The first thing you’ll notice about any Shatrughan Sinha film is the stellar performance of his moustache. The best moments in his films coincide with his extreme close-up shots. His moustache basks in the glow of its own awesomeness and effortlessly swings from glow-basking to ass-kicking acting. In stark contrast is Ranjeet the Rapist’s fake upper-lip fuzz which looks like a fresh-off-the-boat immigrant who’s been confronted by the grueling task of cleaning bird poop off all the statues in an alien city. In every film it quivers, trembles and shakes. It spends more time being overwhelmed, than being a moustache. Ranjeet’s poser moustache proves the age old adage that so many people in film circles swear by, “When you wear a fake moustache, your character tries to rape the heroine unsuccessfully and then gets put through purgatory by the hero, who sports a real, glorious moustache and also gets the girl (who has a real, glorious moustache of her own)”
Moustache lovers of yore had been known to walk out of Ranjeet’s movies to shed a tear or two by the popcorn machine. In a country whose national sport should really be moustache-growing, Ranjeet’s phony fuzz has caused a lot of outrage and rancor. For many moustacheophiles, wearing a fake moustache is just as heinous an act as being clean-shaven. Ranjeet remains indifferent. While he has vanished from the big screens, he still manages to make appearances on TV shows where he and his fake-mustachioed brethren make merry, shed fake tears, eat fake food, make fake suhagraat love, and give each other real homo-erotic pep talks.
That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’m going to stand outside Ranjeet’s house with a placard that says “It’s grown, not worn :(” I’m going to do it.
For real.
