When I was four years old, I desperately wanted Tina Munim to be my mother. For those of you not as well-versed with the Hindi cinema world of the 1980s as I might wish for you, let me introduce you to Ms. Munim. In the movie I had just watched of her, Souten (loosely translated asThe Other Woman), she carried more glamour on the ends of her shiny, glossy hair than even divinely possible. She wore stylish clothes including a shimmery blue dress with an edgy slit along not one but BOTH of her thighs, high heels of all colors including a shiny silver pair, which in turn inspired my first “high” heel pair, and she not only danced in said shiny, silver shoes, she also sang, and managed to accuse her husband of disloyalty through this song right in the middle of a crowded party. You can check out the video where I fell in love with this ethereal creature here.
I am going to guess here that at age four, I understood no bit of the loyalty angle, or why that had to be expressed through a song and dance number. But, this I understood. My sari-wearing, waist-length-hair-in-a-braid mother would never wear a shimmery blue number with slits down both legs. She would also never chop off her hair to her shoulders, and she would not style her locks so perfectly that a single curl would sit like a triumphant sun right in the middle of her forehead. Though I didn’t have any evidence to support or contradict this, I was also very sure that Ma would also probably never drip with sparkling jewels while singing-dancing-clapping in circles around my father to shame him the way Ms. Munim had to her husband in the movie.
What then was the point of life?
After the movie, I shared my hope with my parents. I told them I was keen on switching mothers, and that Tina Munim would be perfect. If I am remembering this correctly, I think I received a lot of encouraging words, so much so that this was shared with anyone who came to our home in the next few days. However, no adult, I repeat, no adult, provided me with the kind of directions I needed to make this happen.
You will be amazed to note that my instincts about Ms. Munim were 100% right. In 1991, she married into one of India’s wealthiest families. Now imagine if she’d known to adopt, right after the release of Souten. So many lives would be so different then. So many more of us could be wearing shimmery blue dresses and accusing people via songs and dances in crowded parties.