Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last time I saw a white marble statue of Shirdi’s Sai Baba produce a miracle in a movie was probably Manmohan Desai’s Amar Akbar Anthony in 1977. And in this picture in 2016 — if you may. Frickin’ eh! Yup. Except, we thought this was going to be a realistic picture about a poor man from a basti taking up a gentleman’s sport, that’s golf. Well, it partly is. About golf? Maybe. Realistic? No.
Seriously, no matter how inherent your talent, you cannot just show up in a golf course first time on, hit the club against the ball, land a hole-in-one or two, and have the world worship the ground beneath your feet.
Golf, for anyone who’s ever tried it, is as much an acquired skill as it is a sport. And someone does need to teach you the basics — like how to hold the damn club in the first place.
If you were rich enough to afford the green-fee, it’s unlikely that you’d find a bunch of nanga street urchins beating drums and dancing for you at a posh club (even t-shirts without collars aren’t usually allowed).
Okay, I’m not going to let technicalities get in the way of a good story being told. Nobody should. Only that I am still searching for the story, which may even be par for the course — mixing ‘satta’ (punting), with desi dons, banal dialogues, and second-rate, sexist, self-referencing jokes, certainly don’t count.