Priya and Bollywood

I tried to get politically correct and considered naming the title Priya and Indian Cinema, but then I thought what the heck, Shabana Azmi is not going to read my blog now is she? So here goes, this time I want to state my case against Bollywood and more specifically the heroines who are called Priya in their films. No I am not talking about Manoj Kumar singing “Oh! Priya, Priyaaaa....”, I am talking about the plight of a heroine if her name is Priya in a film.

This thought came about when I was watching Laaga Chunari Mein Daag, the less said about this film the better, but when I saw Rani Mukherji (or however her numerologist has her spell it) spurt endless glycerin induced tears from her eyes at any given moment, I wondered why her character was not named Priya.

I wonder if anyone has noticed this, and I am sure all the Priyas reading this have, when a Bollywood heroines name is Priya in any film, then you can be rest assured that she cuts a tragic, sorry, abused figure in the film. My notion seems to be gaining perspective with every Hindi movie Priya I watch. Let me cite a few examples for the still sceptical reader.

Preity Zinta as Priya, the unwed mother, scorned and ridiculed by the inhabitants of the small hill station in which she resides. The only silver lining is that she eventually does overcome all the neglect and humiliation, and even gets the man, though it is only Chandrachur Singh.

Now I bring into picture the ultimate portrayer of a Priya in Hindi films viz. Rani Mukerji. Two stunning examples are Chalte Chalte and Chori Chori Chupke Chupke. In the former she established herself as the brand ambassador and spokesperson for glycerin and in the latter, she portrays a newlywed, whose infertility comes about after an accident induced miscarriage. What’s worse is that she feels the need to engage the services of a prostitute to act as a surrogate mother, incidentally portrayed by Preity Zinta.

Last but not the least is the classic Priya, portrayed by Manisha Koirala in Mann. The Priya in this film is not only frightfully indebted to the supporting actor, but also becomes lame (and I don’t mean lame as in slang for unsophisticated, I mean physically disabled) as the film proceeds.

I write this post in earnest and I just hope the next Priya in any film contradicts my now cemented view (which can actually convert itself into a cliché).