Previously: Rahul was a dick on multiple fronts.
New scene: Yash disembarks from a helicopter, thanks the pilot, and says to his assistant who's waiting on the tarmac: "Cancel my appointments and set one up for my son at 10:00." The assistant agrees. Yash turns to look at the chopper, and just to rub in the fact that he's rich, muses, "Nice machine. Got to get a couple more of these things." His assistant forces a smile and thinks about his Eeco car payment and school fees for three kids.
Scene change again: skyscraper exterior, panning up from a shot of Some Expensive Car. Inside, Yash toasts, "This is for you, my son! From today Raichand Empire belongs to you." Except the helicopters. And my unconditional love. "Cheers." They drain their champagne glasses--dudes, it's only ten o'clock--then Yash turns to his father's photo. "Oops, sorry Dad. That's your grandfather, salute him." Rahul's pleased to at last be allowed to behold a picture of his paternal ancestor. "He was a great man. A great man," Yash enthuses. "Just look at him. Look at him." I am looking, and apologies if that's Big B's actual father, but he looks extremely stern and not a little intimidating. I'd run out of the room with my tail between my legs, is what I'm saying.
Yash continues raving about his father's stature. Sometimes, Yash tries to stand just like his dad, just like the picture he has of his father. He can't do it, though.
Thirty years ago, Yash's father told him some stuff, which Yash is now going to repeat to Rahul. And it goes on and on and ON. The Raichands like to wax long and eloquently about stuff like parampara (that's tradition) and the preservation of family name and prestige. I'm too bored to type it all; I'm not a transcription service, y'all.
The point is, Yash demands Rahul's promise that he will only raise the family's stature in the world. Rahul gives it, but as he says the words, his solemn face is intercut with bhangra drums and a sweeping view of Chandni Chowk. Someone's legs and really cute shoes which I covet is running through the alleys. She's carrying an Indian flag. And just as Rahul's making the ill-advised addition of promising to always keep his father happy, the flag swirls out of the way and the bearer appears, and she looks like this:
and Rahul is so screwed. He just doesn't know it yet.
Kajol goes dashing through the crowded streets to a candy shop, yelling "Pooja! Pooja!" A little girl, about ten, sits at a counter combing her hair while a very nicely dressed little boy holds her hand mirror for her. Ah, yes, I fondly remember the days of my fifth-grade year, when boys didn't run like girls had the plague and I could order them to do my bidding whenever I chose. Or not. Kajol screams in Pooja's face, "We WON!" The shop breaks out in general celebration. "God, Sachin played so well... 100 runs not out!" Everyone does some sort of cheer that looks as practiced as the Braves' tomahawk move, then Kajol instructs Pooja, "Okay, now listen, take care of the shop. I'll be back." Um, wasn't she doing that already, since you were busy running in the streets with a random flag?
Kajol extends her arms in delight to someone outside in the street and sashays out of frame. "Oi, Haldiram, hoi hoi!" Pooja resumes her hair-brushing. Outside--oh shit, it's Johnny Lever, flipping his wrists and dancing with a man-purse hanging from his arm. Kajol dances alongside. "What a game what a game what a game!" she screams at the top of her lungs, because did you know Punjabi girls are suppose to be LOUD? Neither did I when I first saw this movie, I just thought Kajol was really annoying the crap out of me! But now I see it was bubbly filmi pseudo Punjabi-ness that annoys the crap out of me! "What a game!" Haldiram agrees. "By the way, what game are we playing?"
Kajol smacks him. "India won the match!" "Oh, that's nice!" he replies. "If you didn't know, then why were you dancing?" she asks. "I'm dancing because all the laddoos my wife made have be sold," he says, in what passes for an undertone with him. They make some joke about the laddoos cleaning out your intestines, or something, just in time for his wife to hear and pout, "C'mon, ji." "I haven't even started yet," he leers at her, which is actually kind of cute considering they're married, and she smacks him playfully.
Ignoring this byplay, Kajol starts waving over their heads and shrieking "RUKHSAR!" because my eardrums just weren't aching enough. Even Johnny's wife agrees with me and shushes her. Apparently Rukhsar's enduring the routine examination by her possible future in-laws. Now that I've typed it, it looks like a gyno appointment, but I'm sure it's just about as pleasant so I'll let that stand.
Inside, the sound of snoring. A woman, a little boy, and an sleeping old woman sit as Daijaan instructs Rukhsar, who's her daughter, "Sit down, daughter. Salute them." Simone Singh, looking absolutely gorgeous in pale blue, obeys. "Wa alaikum as-Salam," responds the prospective mother-in-law. The little boy whispers to his grandmother to wake up, the bride is here. Then there's some slapstick sort of bit where the grandma thinks Farida Jalal is the bride, and also Kajol creeps up on the balcony opposite Daijaan's window and mimes that India won by 100 or something. This causes Rukhsar to burst out inappropriately when she's supposed to be all shy and retiring. It could be funny, I guess. To someone else.
The mother-in-law glances around like she's smelled something bad and makes it clear that, being from Lucknow, they would be doing Daijaan a favor by taking a bride from Chandni Chowk. She tells Rukhsar her son's name is Ashfaque, just in time for Rukhsar, distracted by Kajol, to yell, "Sachin!" Then saas-ji gets her feathers ruffled and Daijaan has to "explain" that her dead uncle's name is Sachin and Rukhsar always shouts it when she's excited. Wow, that could be difficult to explain on the wedding night, I hope maa-in-law paves the way there. Grandma starts bawling for poor dead Sachin. Rukhsar motions violently to Kajol to get away from here. Daijaan turns, finally, and sees Kajol avoiding her gaze.
Cut to Daijaan dragging Kajol and Rukhsar by the ear through the road, lecturing all the way. They enter a house where Pooja sits at the feet of a kind-faced man, while a doctor writes a prescription on a pad. "Oh my God, is everything okay?" Daijaan demands when she sees the doctor. "Forget about me," says Kajol and Pooja's father, "What's she done now?" Daijaan remembers her rant. "We almost lost a wedding proposal thanks to this crazy girl!" The doctor tells them Dad's "BP" is high. "BP high-wigh?" gasps Kajol. "Why? Because of you," her father grunts. Doc leaves them with the prescription.
"Om Bhai, you need to care for yourself," Daijaan remonstrates. Kajol agrees, and her dad tells her to shush; he doesn't want to talk to her. "Kyuuuuuuun?" she squeals, and he mimics, "'Kyuuun?' What's Sayeeda saying?" which I guess is Daijaan's actual name. Mindful of the blood pressure, Daijaan tries to play it off as a joke, but Bauji calls her on spoiling his daughters. Daijaan distracts him with the announcement of Rukhsar's engagement. "Didn't they see you properly?" Kajol teases her. Gosh, I don't think anyone has said her character's name yet, but I'm just going to start calling her by it: Anjali. Rukhsar indignantly tells her to shut up, then they hug.
"So you're just going to leave us and go?" Anjali asks. "Some day all of you girls have to leave," Bauji replies. Yeah, wouldn't want womenfolk hanging around, cluttering up the place. They're pretty useless anyway. Anjali flat-out refuses, and Pooja agrees. Bauji offers to go instead, and both the girls cuddle up to his side, Anjali demanding why he would talk that way. "Someday you have to get married," he says, matter-of-fact. "I just pray to God that the man you marry loves you even more than I." Kajol denies the possibility of such a man in the world, and right then we cut to Naina and Rahul screeching to a halt in a convertible at his front door.
Next up: Yash tells Nandini to get back in the kitchen, and Rahul falls down some steps.