Think of some­thing so fa­mil­iar that when you pay at­ten­tion to it, it feels strange. Sneha Khan­walkar’s com­po­si­tions for are au­then­tic, orig­i­nal, sem­i­nal even, es­pe­cially true to the root of that word, and yet on a first hear­ing they are in­ti­mately known. And on a closer lis­ten, they emul­sify into an al­ready adored lilt shaken with a saucy, suc­cu­lent tilt.

The promo plays the ob­vi­ous jin­gle, I Am A Hunter, with its sin­gle je­june pun on gun. But the tap-swoosh of Vedesh Sookoo’s reg­gae fun would have been limp with­out the hard knock be­gin­ning, a yokel yo­del of “high-low, hey-lo, hai-law”. Lionel Richie just lost his sub­con­ti­nen­tal stran­gle­hold on how to say hello. Mixed with mostly English lyrics, the Bi­hari bits, “Daily goli nikle, au­to­matic, tun, tun” shouted or twanged rather than sung, have meaty beats, and yes, the pe­nis jokes keep sug­gest­ing them­selves. In a grave­yard of Bol­ly­wood mashups where the spec­tre of imag­i­na­tion is scared to loom, this short im­port from Trinidad & Tobago mated with a plain­speak­ing Patna lives and thrives.

With all its fre­quent, ob­vi­ous, drilled-in al­lu­sions to sex, the songs of Wassey­pur are the an­tithe­sis of porn. Porn as a fail­ure of the imag­i­na­tion, with its ag­glom­er­ated anatom­i­cal mov­ing parts in repet­i­tive, me­chan­i­cal de­tail is some­what like pop. It’s

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