"So
this
is
a
love
story!" says
the
wry
cop
at
the
end
of
the
film
while
closing
the
case
that
exonerates
our
hero
'One-Shot
Nandu'
of
accidentally
blinding
Pinky
Palkar
in
a
car
accident.
Indeed
Lafangey
Parindey
(LP)
is
a
love
story.
And
how
grotesquely
indecorous
has
been
the
marketing
of
this
tender
and
shimmering
look
at
an
improbable
love
in
the
slums
between
a
free-wheeling
boxer
and
wannabe
roller-
skating
spitfire
gone
blind.
Deepika
Padukone
gives
to
the
timeless
yet
time-bound
tale
the
kind
of
fluent
grace
and
eloquent
spin
that
the
audience
associates
with
the
female
legends
of
celluloid,
namely
Meena
Kumari
and
Nutan.
Deepika
brings
the
poignant
lyricism
of
the
former
and
the
spirited
delicacy
of
the
latter
into
what's
unarguably
one
of
the
best-written
female
characters
in
recent
times.
When
Pinky
goes
blind
all
of
a
sudden,
she
doesn't
flutter
her
eyelashes
and
trip
over
furniture
like
any
self-respecting
blind
diva
in
our
cinema
would.
She
quickly
picks
up
the
pieces
of
her
shattered
life,
and
yes,
also
the
roller-skates
and
leaves
home
to
a
sniggering
brother's
taunt
and
a
concerned
mother's
encouragement
to
renew
her
dreams.
The
above
is
one
of
the
many
finely-written
and
worded
sequences
in
this
film
suffused
with
a
delicate
charm
and
infinite
wisdom.
Neil
Nitin
Mukesh
has
a
tough
thankless
role.
Not
only
is
he
that
archetype
known
as
the
'Supportive
Lover'
in
the
script
he
must
also
move
back
in
every
other
sequence
to
let
Deepika
walk
away
with
the
best
expressions
and
dialogues.
Neil
never
over-steps
his
boundaries.
As
the
shy
fighter
who
needs
the
blinded
sports-girl's
clairvoyant
spirit
to
take
him
on
the
road
to
love
more
than
she
needs
him
to
cross
that
traffic-laden
road
which
she
can't
see,
Neil
gets
the
lower
notes
in
the
scale
of
the
love-
symphony
right.
While
the
two
protagonists'
journey
into
love
via
a
dance
contest
(Rab
Ne
Bana
Di
Jodi
revisited)
takes
centre
stage
in
Pradeep
Sarkar's
deftly-cut
material,
the
peripheral
characters
also
get
enough
space
to
have
their
say
aggressively
without
getting
hysterical.
A
film
set
in
the
ghetto
is
bound
to
remind
the
audience
of
Danny
Boyle's
Slumdog
Millionaire
and
Vishal
Bhardwaj's
Kaminey.
Sarkar
dodges
both
and
goes
for
the
most
unexpected
reference
points,
namely
Douglas
Sirk's
The
Magnificent
Obsession
and
its
desi
spinoff
Gulzar's
Kinara.
As
in
Kinara,
the
hero
is
on
a
redemptive
route
taking
the
blinded
girl
through
the
corridors
to
her
dream.
It's
a
journey
undertaken
with
great
warmth
tenderness
and
loving
care.
The
dialogues
convey
streetside
sauciness
without
getting
abusive.
But
hang
on.
LP
is
not
soft
at
the
edges.
Pradeep
Sarkar
brings
to
the
storyboard
a
gritty
edge-of-the-street
desperation
that
miraculously
accommodates
a
very
supple
love
story.
In
a
moment
that
can
only
be
defined
as
tragic-comic,
one
of
the
hero's
friends
walks
away
with
one
of
the
most
expressive
lines
in
this
film.
After
Pinky
goes
blind
the
friend
says,
"Ek
minute
mein
Hema
Malini
se
Thenga
Malini
ban
gayi."
The
reference
to
Hema
Malini
is
not
lost
in
a
film
that
takes
Gulzar's
Kinara
to
another
shore.
The
scenes
are
written
by
Gopi
Puthran
with
utmost
concern
for
a
pitch
that
conveys
high
passion
without
toppling
over.
Deepika
looking
into
the
sky
with
a
lovelorn
look
in
her
unseeing
eyes
asking
Neil
to
describe
the
moon
is
a
moment
that
is
priceless
and
poignant
in
its
poignancy.
Deepika
has
been
shot
by
cinematographer
C.
Natarajan
Subramanian
with
the
loving
care
of
a
lensman
shooting
a
place
on
the
map
where
great
events
are
expected
to
happen
just
as
soon
as
the
clouds
disperse.
LP
is
an
inspirational
tale
told
with
as
little
fuss
and
as
much
feeling
as
cinematically
possible.
Not
to
be
missed.
Story first published: Monday, August 23, 2010, 12:56 [IST]