Film's promotional gig with Indian Railways off to bumpy start; makers compelled to cancel photo-op at Borivali station after fans throng platform despite security
Shaheen Parkar (MID-DAY; October 17, 2019)

On Wednesday, Akshay Kumar and the Housefull 4 cast kicked off Indian Railways' plan, Promotion On Wheels, which sees them partnering with studios and enabling them to use the trains to promote their films. The superstar joined Kriti Sanon, Bobby Deol, Riteish Deshmukh and others at Borivali station at 4 pm where the eight-coach Delhi-bound train — adorned with posters of their Diwali release — awaited them. The stars were to be accompanied by fans and media persons as the special train made its way to Delhi, halting at Surat, Vadodara and Kota. So far, so good.

However, the stars' multitude of fans played spoilsport in their plans. As soon as word spread that the stars would be arriving at Borivali station, a sea of fans thronged the venue. While cops had barricaded the area anticipating huge crowds, it did little to dampen their excitement. mid-day has learnt that the makers of the ensemble comedy altered their plans on seeing the commotion at the railway station. A source close to the project reveals, "The entire star cast was to do a photo-op with select fans on the platform. However, on reaching the venue, they unanimously decided to drop the plan and instead headed directly to their designated coach."

This is not the first time that a Bollywood plan has gone off rails. In 2017, Shah Rukh Khan took the Mumbai-Delhi August Kranti Rajdhani to promote Raees. One person died of suffocation as 15,000 people turned up at Vadodara station to catch a glimpse of Khan.

Fortunately, it was a smooth ride thereon to Surat for Housefull 4 team as they interacted with fans on board and regaled them with their travel tales.


Akshay Kumar at platform 10 of Borivali station






Beefed-up security controls the crowd at Borivali station

On the campaign trail, Urmila Matondkar sets temperatures soaring with her star power, and comes down hard on failing civic facilities, internet trolls and communal politics
Kunal Guha (MUMBAI MIRROR; April 7, 2019)

Almost a quarter of a century ago, Urmila Matondkar dazzled cine-goers in Ram Gopal Varma’s blockbuster Rangeela — and those images of her poised on a rocky beach in a black swimsuit, with a Speedo-clad Jackie Shroff gazing at her with love and longing, are etched into the collective consciousness of the city.

Cut to the present: en route to campaigning in the predominantly Maharashtrian area of Kaju Pada in Borivali, Urmila Matondkar realises that her SUV route is being obstructed by a BEST bus. The driver and conductor have apparently disappeared to relieve themselves. But then again, April, as they say, is the cruellest month — and the Congress Party’s candidate for Mumbai North, her days in AC vanity vans long gone — is feeling the heat.

Soon, a mob of fans and party workers surrounds the car, armed with cellphone cameras. Her unarmed security guards struggle to disperse the crowd, but the actress-turned-politician pops out of the vehicle’s sunroof with a wide smile and folded hands. This has been a format for all rallies that Matondkar has attended in the last week, ever since she was fielded by the Congress Party on March 27.

Within the first 10 days of assuming her new avatar, the actress has met with trade associations, women’s wings and locals in her constituency to try and put her finger on the pulse of the electorate. “I have learnt that housing is a pressing concern and slum development projects need to be initiated. There are places in the city where water is available only at 2am and then, the locals have to wake up and go to work in a few hours.”

The 45-year-old’s decision to contest has garnered unsavoury reactions from certain quarters — singularly on Twitter. During her first interaction with the press at a microbrewery in Bandra, 12 hours after her formal induction, the actress laughed uproariously when a reporter quizzed her on being RSS founder Mohan Bhagwat’s niece — a theory that’s been widely endorsed across social media channels. Yet another scribe referred to her by her ‘real’ name, Mariyam Akhtar Mir — a moniker supposedly acquired after her marriage to businessman and model Mohsin Mir. “They also said that my husband is Pakistani — since that seems to be the ‘in’ thing these days. But making me related to Mohan Bhagwat is something even Manmohan Desai couldn’t have come up with,” says Matondkar. Despite her years in showbiz having insulated her from sharp criticism, she wasn’t prepared for things to take such a nasty turn. “I was initially alarmed but that’s what pushed me to join politics. There is no freedom to stand up for what one believes in, or express oneself in this country. This election is not just about power or party, it will decide our country’s path in the coming years.”

A female party worker clutching a megaphone abutting Matondkar’s car announces with proselytising zeal that can only be triggered by a general election: “Aapki Mumbaichi mulgi, aapki Konkan Kanya, Smt Urmila-taai, aapka aashirwad lene aapke beech mein aayi hain!” The announcement instigates a Pied Piper effect and locals surface from every corner, as the rally negotiates its way through the serpentine bylanes of Kaju Pada. Matondkar takes over the microphone and fluidly flits between Marathi and Hindi while addressing folks, emerging from their homes to see her. Matondkar’s dexterity with language has also been recently targeted for favouring certain communities that constitute a fat chunk of the vote bank. “If I speak to Gujaratis in Gujarati (their mother tongue) in Kandivali, how am I catering to just one community? I have a flair for languages. I can speak decent Telugu as well. What people don’t know about me is that I have always been an extraordinary student,” she tells us when we meet her at the rally.

Pitted against BJP MP Gopal Shetty, who defeated former Mumbai Congress chief Sanjay Nirupam in the 2014 Lok Sabha polls, Matondkar has been critical of her opponent’s tactics. Her point of contention — a long hoarding that communicated his party’s objectives in Gujarati was nothing but a ‘communal ploy’ to attract votes. “I only commented about the hoardings on a truck that were in a language which is not a language of the state. Is that wrong?” she counters. “When you call yourself a leader, you cannot divide your people based on language or religion. I don’t want to treat any community in isolation,” she adds, making eye contact with every bedazzled local she waves at.

At a U-turn, Matondkar descends from her car to personally greet a gathering of women and children. A sari-clad woman steps forward with an aarti thali and presses a tika on the actress’ forehead. “Sab ke saath photo loongi,” assures the actress to the congregation jostling to catch a closer glimpse of the actress. Her campaign trail has sensitized Matondkar to issues in her constitutency. “In recent years, Kandivali, Borivali and Malad have grown so vastly and deeply that the number of trains assigned barely suffice. For instance, there’s only one ladies special local train that leaves from Borivali to Churchgate. This is appalling given the number of women who commute daily on this route.” Matondkar also laments the deplorable state of healthcare, especially for pregnant women. “You wonder why even such basic things were not looked into. Healthcare centres have been created but there are hardly any doctors visiting them. I feel this area has been extremely neglected and you wonder if it is part of the same Mumbai which has been perceived as this glorious, glamourous city where one has lived for so many years.”

Despite her determined stance on improving civic infrastructure, the actress isn’t oblivious of the obvious. “No matter what you speak and how well you speak, people will consider you for your glamour quotient. Being an actress known for my sexy image, they will think that I am dumb blonde. But the beauty of it is that the idea of ‘dumb blonde’ itself is a myth that exists in a man’s mind,” she avers.

We approach a rudimentary stage, possibly constructed for a religious ceremony. Party workers urge Matondkar to say a few words from the vantage point she enjoys. “Pani puri kaisi hain?” she quizzes a group of young men gobbling down the quintessentially Mumbai street snack at a distance. Once convinced of the undivided attention of her audience, she folds her hands and makes a direct plea, seeking their mandate. “April 29 is a holiday and the women at home may be busy preparing meals. But before you have lunch, first go out and cast your vote for Congress. If the women of the household don’t come out and voice themselves, the country can’t progress,” she says.

A party worker suggests she sing a line or two from one of her chartbusters. The actress politely rejects the idea, saying, “Phir bolenge gaana gaake vote maang rahi hain.” Matondkar is alluding to media reports that followed after she broke into song — Lakdi ki kathi, kathi pe ghoda from Masoom (1983) at one of her recent rallies. The actress had then conveniently segued into “ab humein vikas ka ghoda aise hi leke jana hain… .. yahan se Dilli tak.” She assures us that this was “not a gimmick”. “I swear I didn’t know the media was following me. It was an extremely tiny pocket near the intersection between Borivali and Dahisar which houses low-income families. When I reached there, the kids were very excited and happy to see me. I had prepared a speech but when I met them, I was like ‘What do I tell them?’ I felt that if I could bring a smile on their face, it would be worth it,” she clarifies. “Yesterday, someone was asking me to play garba with Gujaratis and I refused,” adds the contestant, who was also accused of resorting to a cheap political stunt of eating a vada pav during her meeting with the Marathi Ekikaran Samiti.

As we reach the end of the rally, Matondkar mulls over her new identity. “Till yesterday, I was in a relaxed state of being. Now, I have reduced sleeping hours and spend more time in the car than anywhere else. I am constantly going from one place to another and have no fixed meal timings. I don’t even know when I last had water.” In her new role as a party candidate, Matondkar has even embraced a sartorial shift: dresses and gowns have had to make way for kurtas stitched from fabrics conducive to a tropical clime. “When you go amongst people from your constituency, you’re not bothered about what you’re wearing or how you’re looking. I am happy with my wardrobe because it’s comfortable. It’s better than wearing chiffon saris and dancing in the Alps like I have in my movies,” she quips. It is the sort of pragmatism that is rather apt for a woman on the move in the relentless Indian summer.


Matondkar flanked by Sanjay Nirupam (left) and Sachin Ahir at a Kandivali meeting

A glass of soft drink for Rs 240, a bucket of regular popcorn for Rs 240, and two samosas for Rs 95. Welcome to fleeceland

Days after a Mirror test drive revealed that multiplexes were violating a govt rule by not allowing people to bring food from outside, we highlight the massive overpricing of food items at the theatres
MUMBAI MIRROR (August 13, 2018)


Days after this paper exposed how multiplexes are hiding behind the lack-of-clarity excuse to bar moviegoers from carrying food inside (‘Now showing: Confusion’, August 8), we carried out another test drive, this time on the prices of food and beverages. The results will leave you seething.

At a Lower Parel multiplex (see above), items as basic as a regular tub of popcorn and a glass of soft drink were priced over 500 per cent more than what they cost outside a cinema theatre — more than the price of the movie ticket itself.

And the overpriced food did little to enhance the movie-going experience, as showed by a Borivali theatre. A Ghatkopar East multiplex claimed to have reduced prices “by a big margin” since the debate over unaffordable food began raging, but catching a movie there could still burn a hole in patrons’ pockets.

The test drive came days after the state government, after announcing during the monsoon session of the legislature that moviegoers were free to carry food into multiplexes from August 1, shot itself in the foot by telling the Bombay High Court — which is hearing a public interest litigation on the matter — that such a move could pose a security risk. The HC demanded an explanation from the state government on that claim.

“What security concern can be caused by food inside theatres? People are not prohibited from carrying food to any other public place besides cinema halls. If people can be permitted to carry home food inside the aircraft then why not to theatres?” the bench had sought to know.

Following the state government’s U-turn on the issue, Ravindra Chavan, minister of state for food and civil supplies, clarified with Mirror last week that there was “no ambiguity” and multiplexes cannot prevent anyone from bringing food from outside.


Carnival Cinemas, Borivali: Popcorn costlier than cooked food
A large tub of popcorn (Rs 260) was the most expensive item at the food counter, steeper than cooked dishes such as chicken momos and rolls. The cheapest popcorn, that too hot and fresh out of the machine, that this reporter has come across comes in a small packet at Churchgate station for Rs 7. The caramel popcorn at the theatre did not skimp on caramel, but the cheese popcorn was almost bland, with no clear taste of cheese coming through.

A large cup (650 ml) of a soft drink cost Rs 170, which can easily come under Rs 50 outside.

In the fast food category, cheesy nachos with Mexican salsa and topped with French fries was the costliest at Rs 230. Both the quantity and the taste were satisfactory. A plate of samosa, which cost Rs 90, was fresh and tasty, but there are better samosas for far less outside.

The experience was partially worth the cost, considering that food and tickets for two can set your back by Rs 1,000. This was the same multiplex where the reporter was allowed to carry food in during the first test drive, but a Mirror staffer was stopped on Saturday.

AUG 11, Noon
TICKET PRICE: Rs 150
POPCORN AND SAMOSA: Rs 350
COST OUTSIDE: LESS THAN Rs 100


R Odeon Mall, Ghatkopar East: Slashed by ‘big margin’, yet not as afordable
A large cup (900 ml) of soft drink came for Rs 150. For a large tub of caramel and cheese popcorn, one will have to shell out another Rs 180. Outside, one has to pay only Rs 50 for beverage and Rs 60-70 for popcorn. Neither of them was worth the price. The carbonated drink tastes the same anywhere, and although the popcorn was fresh, one can get the same outside for half the price. Tarun Devnani, duty manager of the multiplex, said they reduced prices “by a big margin” recently. The mega tub (170 gm) of plain popcorn, which earlier cost Rs 330, is now around Rs 200 on weekdays, and Rs 250 on weekends and after 6 pm. “They become even cheaper during ‘happy hours’. We also have the facility of booking snacks online, which has special combos and offers.”

Aug 11, 5.25 PM
TICKET PRICE: Rs 225
POPCORN AND SOFT DRINK: Rs 330
COST OUTSIDE: Rs 120
Prices of other items: Packet of banana chips: Rs 60; veg puff: Rs 70; veg burger: Rs 130, 2 samosas: Rs 80; French fries: Rs 140; veg sandwich: Rs 130


INOX CR2 Mall, Nariman Point: Salty sandwich, costliest water 
Since this reporter went for the last show of the day, samosas and burgers were not available. There was a single samosa on display, but the staff was candid and kind enough to admit that it had gone bad. The last vada pav (Rs 140) was up for grabs, but customers who had purchased one before didn’t like it. From the little variety, a bottle of water (Rs 60 — the most expensive water on offer), a tub of caramel popcorn (Rs 280) and a paneer sandwich (Rs 210) was the safest bet. The same come at Rs 20 for a water bottle, Rs 100 for popcorn, and Rs 50 for a sandwich outside. The popcorn was good but the price left a bad taste in the mouth. The salty sandwich was nothing to write about. If these items were an indication of what is offered through the day, skip the food.

Aug 11, 10.45 PM
TICKET PRICE: Rs 430
WATER BOTTLE, POPCORN AND SANDWICH: Rs 550
COST OUTSIDE 170

Metro INOX, Marine Lines: Where chaat is six times costlier
During the interval, this reporter bought bhel puri, which cost Rs 150. Outside the theatre, the same can be bought for just Rs 25. A small tub of sukha bhel was also priced at Rs 150, 10 times more than what it costs elsewhere. In fact, all chaat items were overpriced, ranging from Rs 150-200.

A plate of two samosas — rather bland given the steep price — cost Rs 100, twice the price at which it’s available outside. A large turn of cheese popcorn went for Rs 280, in contrast to Rs 40 outside. That translates to a hike of 500 per cent. This reporter, too, ended up paying more for food items than the ticket, and none of it made it a worthwhile movie-going experience.

Aug 11, 7.45 PM
TICKET PRICE: Rs 350
BHEL PURI, 2 SAMOSAS AND POPCORN: Rs 530
COST OUTSIDE: Rs 115


PVR Phoenix, Lower Parel
A no-frills tub of regular popcorn (55 gm) costs Rs 240. One can buy the same outside for just Rs 40. That’s a 500 per cent hike, and this was just plain salted popcorn. A large cheese caramel popcorn costs Rs 500.

A glass of soft drink (600 ml) was charged at Rs 240. A 500 ml bottle of the same costs Rs 40 outside. For the price this correspondent paid, he could have bought 3 litres of the same soft drink outside. Again, this is a 500 per cent hike.

Then came the humble samosa. A plate of two samosas cost Rs 95; outside the mall, one can get the same for Rs 40 a plate. The taste was no different from what one gets outside. Together, the soft drink, samosas and popcorn cost more than the ticket itself. The food is not worth the price. Given a choice, take your own chow.