So how did Mahesh Bhatt go back home after throwing a chappal at Kangana Ranaut, as alleged by the actor, wonders Minoo Shah, tongue firmly in cheek
Raise your hand if your mom has ever thrown a chappal at you. Now, think back and remember what you did with the chappal and what went through your mind as the missile flew towards you.
Although, I was seldom at the receiving end of my mom’s archery skills, my brothers were quite another story. They got adept at catching the flying chappal having created vantage points much like a baseball diamond at strategic spots in the livable areas of the home. These souvenirs, some velvet, some leather, some fabric were then hidden out of sight to be used at a latter date for the neighborhood wada bonfire. Alas, for my mom, she was left with many an orphan chappal which she then sold to the ‘bhangar’ buyer.
Since I inherited the chappal-throwing DNA, my children too were at the receiving end of flying stilettos. In my defence it was either being escorted away by Child Protective Services on a regular basis or resorting to an age-old technique to keep monster kids at bay. Now, you self-righteous people that are frowning at my parenting skills, don’t tell me that you have never wanted to put these moments of passion back into your wombs? Come on be honest.
Anyway, so far in this narrative, there is no mention of flying Daddy boots making contact with foreheads, chandeliers, derrieres or an occasional window. So, imagine my furrowed brow when I read and re-read the episode of Mahesh Bhatt throwing a chappal at Kangana Ranaut. This writer’s mind immediately conjured a tanned Kolhapuri missing a clapper boy by inches and a dodging Kangana by a hair’s length. This scenario was immediately followed by, how did Mahesh go home that night? Did he limp to his car in one chappal or did he borrow the chorus girl’s shoulder? Maybe he retrieved the chappal after Kangana made a run for her life. After which did, he proceed to go home with this memento in order to hone his skills by target practising at Soni or Alia? Time permitting, this is a mystery the Mumbai Police must resolve.
Oft when on my couch I lie, I wonder what if the tables were turned? Imagine an Ambani event with all the who’s who along with drunk waiters, and flying drones are Mahesh Bhatt and Kangana Ranaut. Mahesh would probably be the epitome of a gentleman during such occasions. Kangana, not so much. (1) because she is a lady and (2) because (if I may be permitted to use a cliche) hell hath no fury to that of a woman scorned. Back to my mind’s eye which sees Kangana lying in wait behind an adorned pillar and Mahesh chatting up everything in skirts. Suddenly, much to the surprise of Mukesh Ambani, he sees a size 8 crystal studded Jimmy Choo zigzagging its way and landing on a hairless pate belonging to an astonished guest. He wonders if this is entertainment Nita may have conceived for the evening, sighing that no one keeps him informed. He, a sharp-minded bloke is alarmed to see spatters of blood raining on his pristine marble floor. He makes a mental note to ask Nita to perhaps refrain from the gory and retires to a more peaceful corner of Antilla. Pandemonium reigns as the hairless individual none other than Mahesh Bhatt gawks at a rather lissome woman with a Queenly grace smilingly winking and waving at him as she exits the chaos. This, Kangana was able to do on her stellar two feet because she had thoughtfully brought an extra piece of footwear should opportunity strike and it seems like it did.
At this juncture, my wandering mind had to be brought back to the task at hand and back to my premise of the genderic diffusion. Having done an in-depth research on this subject, I unearthed that this age-old custom was practiced in all cultures. To name a few: Cleopatra kept Mark Antony in line with an occasional slipper or two, Imelda Marcos of the Philippine Empire had a roomful of handy ones periodically brandished at the household help, I understand Eva Perone too took a few spare ones when sent into exile. The conclusion I believe is self-evident as we have established that women are masters at the art of flinging articles that for most part belong to the feet.