This is a spoof on Sholay that I wrote by changing genres for a class assignement...
Sholay – ‘Fire on the mountain, run, run, run!’
(Original Genre: Action)
(New Genre: Science Fiction, Comedy)
Jai’s Diary:
So, well, it’s the year 3000 and not 2000 for God’s sake! How can you expect me to go fight those bear-human crossbreeds? All because this Galaxy Patrolling Officer, Thakur Whambam was stupid enough to trust me and my buddy Veeru Drinksalot to help him fight off a hive of bees. One stung him, we both ran out. Hickery- Dickery- Dock.
Toss Time! We go. Damn! On our way to Rammsteingadh, we meet Basanti Talksalot, the spaceship captain (for short distances only!) Veeru is convinced Talks-Drinksalot is the ideal surname for his to-be born children. I simply stuff cotton in my ears. Thakur, we realize stays with his ancient looking naukar Ramlalloo and widowed daughter-in-law, Radha Shuddup. What a feisty lady SHE is.
Ok, the first time we land up at Thakur’s ancient looking space station from circa 2500 AD, he tries to get us beaten up by mutant turtles to check our, ahem, strength. We beat them, thankfully, but that’s when I realized Thakur was not right in his head. Radha is slightly nuts as well. She actually gave us the password to the space locker in which Thakur stored all his towels. Towels! I mean, we would be rich! He definitely would have more towels than what the SHAM- Space Home Dept. and Ministry is offering us. 50,000 towels. Hmf. I wonder if SHAM stands for something else as well. Am I in love?
Meanwhile in Gabbar’s Den.
“Kitna Inaam rakhe hai sarkar hum par” Sambar, the right hand of the bear human crossbreed Gabbar Kink, who had his backside stuck to the crow’s nest of the spaceship yawns to himself, scratches and, “50,000 towels sire. And I would suggest that you would kindly refrain from using Bhojpuri at least now.” Ach-thoo went Gabbar. “Answer me only the question I ask! Another unsuccessful raid! Son of a swine! I want something done now!” Stomp, stomp. Sambar rolls his eyes.
Jai’s Diary:
Life drags on. Wake up, fool around, kill Gabbar’s bears. Veeru is the only saving grace with his drunken antics. He threatened to jump into the blackhole if the darned spaceshipwaali’s Aunt refused to get them wed. Radha also seems to be eyeing me. So I guess we are all in the family way. But work comes first. Although making merry comes even before.
We celebrated this half wit festival in which people put powdered stuff into people’s space suit! In spite of it being totally unacceptable, I played along. Ah, to be in love! But the darned Gabbar had to spoil this as well. I never really did figure out what is problem is. Also, thanks to the dim wit, Thakur went into a flashback. Shudder, shudder.
Thakur’s Flashback:
He was a happy go lucky space patrolling officer, who was nearing retirement. All he wanted to do was get away from all the hustle and bustle of the Martian Prison. He was tired of torturing his prisoners by playing the ‘Sadistic Guitar’ He had a special pick that he used to burn holes in their ears. He had subjected Gabbar to it once, which lead to mental damage instead of cochlear version of it. And all Gabbar wanted then, was revenge.
So when Thakur comes back to his little hamlet Rammsteingadh in the next galaxy, he discovers Gabbar’s monkeys dancing to ‘Kitne Aadmi They’ Remix by their very own Sarkar… over his family’s dead bodies! Grr! This was the nth time he had had to resurrect them. Gabbar was going to pay. Yes, Thakur was going to play the most ghastly tune on the ‘Sadistic Guitar’ ever! He put on a Slayer t-shirt and was off.
He posed and started playing a Megadeth tune. Unfortunately, Gabbar’s bears were unaffected by it and captured him. He was tied up and forced to listen to Dave Mustaine’s whiny vocals himself. Gabbar staged an entry. “Yeh haath humka de de Thakur.” Sambar slapped his forehead. “No!” yelled Thakur. “Come again?” said Gabbar. “God damn it!” said Thakur, posed and “Nahiiiiin!” “Haaaan!”
Veeru’s Diary:
Do I have to do this? Drink! Get me a drink.
Ok, so this is how Thakur lost his hands and his Sadistic Guitar. Gabbar and he kept pow-wowing over this. My poor Basanti and her gaanvwaalas were dragged in this unnecessary battle. I was all for taking Basanti and running away. Also the weird ship she calls ‘Dhanno Shanno’ But no! Jai Scorny has to use his coin to toss … all the time.
I grudgingly tagged along. Till… I saw a good looking girl in a bikini space suit dancing away. She was dancing to Gabbar’s remixed song ‘Main dooba main dooba’ Gabbar, used my pet dialogues ‘Kutte mein tera khoon pee jaoonga’ in the remix. I was already drunk. Then I realized it was Basanti who he was forcing to dance on the tune.
Darn the whisky! I ran towards Gabbar and got caught. And my dearest spaceshipwaali had to actually do amid air jig without her oxygen mask. All this to save me. I vowed to Gabbar that I would suck the son of a bitch dry of his blood. Well, at least my Jai Darling would.
Jai entered and while I was too drunk/ beaten up to notice. He whisked me away. I was content to being in his arms when it hit me, “Where is my Basanti?” I threw a fit and Jai went back to get her. Thakur came running in the meanwhile.
Damn! The whisky was taking over. I kneeled on the spaceship’s main button panel. And I let out a dangerous weapon. Apparently, this 500 year old relic merges two people into one. Oh oh! Jay! And Basanti? No! Please God, I can’t marry Jai! What was this? Jai and Gabbar? Oh…well.
Thakur’s recorded Diary: ( He has no hands, Einstein)
Oh, well. All’s well that end’s well. You see, Radha doesn’t have to marry that walking talking Sarcasm Emitting Machine. Gabbar exists only in his bodily form. Seeing his body still makes my non existent fingers scream out for my Sadistic Guitar.
The combination of Gabbar’s lunacy and Jai’s sarcasm was too much for a poor body to handle. The, ahem, deadly combo is now kept in the Martian Zoo in the Alpha Centauri Galaxy. Veeru and Basanti are now married. Thank God she is not my daughter.
Everything is nice and good in Rammsteingadh now and Veeru is blissfully unaware of the fact that it was me, rather, my leg that set of the old missile. I say, “Tere liye toh mere pair hi kaafi hai, Gabbar” Hahaha!
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