Love story

the wheel of his Merc. Nothing is said about where he’s been getting action — translation, he gets laid. I mean, what more screams, “Come and take care of me, please”. It’s to director Tanuja Chandra and her two actors’ credit that all this is done nicely — in a tone that makes this patriarchal bias seems as if it’s real, and it helps that Yogi is tuned into other people’s needs, especially Jaya’s. Quiet, Internet savvy Jaya finds voluble Yogi annoying, strange. He in turn finds her lovely, appealing, ethereal. Though she’s irritated with him, Yogi the good natured but talkative raees gently takes charge. He’s insistent, persistent and pushes her, crudely but cutely, to keep meeting him and very soon they are off on a trip — to Rishikesh, Jaipur, Gangtok. This trip is a strange, badly engineered ruse for a long date. A result of a boast about past, epic romances that left the dumped one devastated, all that this trip throws up are some mild personality flaws: she’s veg, he’s non-veg; he often misses the bus, literally. But, again, that’s because he floats through life, sometimes gazing at the stars, sometimes with his head in the water blowing bubbles, whereas she tries to swim fast, from point A to B, using all sorts of strokes. Obviously, his character drives the plot — and her moods. And the episodes that follow then are contrived, written badly and inconsequential except to make the point that Jaya made at the very the beginning — People move on, the past is past…

Director Tanuja Chandra’s film — its story’s been written by her mother Kamna Chandra, dialogue are by Gazal Dhaliwal, and the screenplay’s been co-written by Tanuja and Gazal — is both, adorable and annoying.

QQS pretends to be liberated, evolved, mature by taking on adults with a past, but all it’s interested in is helping Jaya find a mate.

The film is also flawed in its plot details, screenplay. During the trip, we learn nothing about Jaya and Irrfan’s past relationships, of real, emotional complications about starting life afresh. All we get are silly, stock scenes — including one where she’s drunk and gets all touchy-feely — or convoluted, meaningless encounters that eat up a lot of time.

There are no real conversations between them, as if the film is scared that intimacy will lead to sex.

Also, despite an ensemble of supporting actors, no other character comes alive. All they get are two lines and a title — annoying parlour aunty, sweet taxi driver, brother on Skype...

If Jaya and Yogi had just stayed in Bandra and sipped Latte while exchanging more nuggets about the joys of mangoes and pakodas, Qarib Qarib Singlle may have been a greater film.

That’s not to say that Qarib Qarib Singlle doesn’t work. It does, because sitting inside this annoying set up is a heart, pulsating and excited at giving life another shot. And because its lead pair is beautifully mismatched and yet in sync.

Poised and self-possessed, Parvathy, of Take Off and Charlie fame, is lovely and inhabits her character with confidence and a measure of ease that’s very appealing and, well, sexy.

Though she’s in control in scenes, in a few she overacts and is all over the place. I’d put that down to lazy writing and bad dialogue.

Her Jaya is the sweet, warm foil to the crazy but charming Yogi. Qarib Qarib Singlle finds its anchor in Jaya, but draws its power, mojo and the heady promise of romance from Irrfan Khan. Though Irrfan Khan’s acting now is made up of predictablemannerisms — especially when he’s playing voluble characters — his ability to slip in a mumbled asides/comments/insult under the table, only for our benefit, win us over. Always.