This entry is a part of @Bloggerheads- The Blogging Competition organised by NMIMS for their Annual Cultural Festival,Euphoria 2006.

My name is Mithun. Yes, that's right, Mithun. A quick perusal of the Oxford dictionary informs you that I share my name with a variety of the milch bovine found in the north eastern parts of India, thankfully, a high yielding variety.

But that's certainly not where I get my name from. Legend says that when I was born and the nurse slapped me, I told her, 'kutti, kameeni, mein tera khoon pee jaaoonga'. As you might have guessed by now, my folks are movie-maniacs. So much so that they named me after the Bollywood superstar of the era that I was born in, with complete disregard to how much their kid would get ribbed throughout his life, especially when the hero of their choice would want to release 52 movies in a year, with names as esoteric as 'Cheetah' and 'Hitler'.

Not that I am complaining. Outside of West Bengal, I am always well known and if you have in your repertoire the entire lyrics of 'Zoobie, Zoobie' and all the moves of 'Disco Dancer', you are bound to be popular, for whatever it is worth.

I have been accused of addressing my teachers at times with the respectful salutation, 'Ae Saala' and once when my mom caught me with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, I was left scot free because I told her, 'agar pet ki aag ko bhujaana chori hai, to haan haan mein chor hoon'. Things came to a head when, on discovering that my dad also stole cookies, I insisted on getting a tattoo on my wrist saying 'mera baap chor hai'.

Yes, movies are in my DNA.

Sometimes, I wish I was born in the Middle East. Every Friday would be a holiday, you see.

My favourite question in a B-school admission form or a company interview is, 'What are the three most important incidents that changed your life?'. Pat comes my reply, 'Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak', 'Maine Pyar Kiya' and 'Kuch Kuch Hota Hai'.

Not for me all these arty-farty multiplex movies. A love triangle, two dogs and a pigeon, bust and pelvic thrusts, one guy taking out two hundred bare-handedly, ribald jokes, yellow shirts, maroon trousers and blue shades, khaandaani ladaais and double meaning lyrics. Throw in a couple of item numbers and Nadeem Shravan songs with Kader Khan dialogues and this Mithun also 'lungi uthati aur disco dikhaati' on his cloud number nine.

It is a travesty to see the new generation appreciating absolute trash like Mr. and Mrs. Iyer and Hyderabad Blues. I mean, what is the big deal about making real movies with real characters who say and do real things? Don't we see enough of them around us everyday? Within those dark halls with 300 tiered chairs, air conditioning and Dolby sound, lies a hallowed world of sheer make believe; an escapist paradise from the grim reality of everyday mundane existence. Why would anybody in their right minds want to outrage the sanctity of a fantasy world, so pure and pristine, with real life portrayals, is beyond my Technicolor comprehension.

I am at a new cusp in my life: as a marketing graduate, from one of the better b-schools in the country, I have managed to land a decent job with an FMCG biggie. So now, I am all set to leading a life, not in tinsel town but in the world of targets and quarterly results. Depressing, right? Wrong!! Absolutely wrong. Now is my chance to watch all these bollywood big shots sell my soaps on TV, use my hair-oil and promote my toothpaste, while I smile smugly all the way to the bank.

So although if you were to see me now, you would find an inconsolable figure, crying copious tears onto the keyboard. Relax. Don't worry, 'yeh toh khushi ke aasu hain'.

                                             The beginning..........