Interviewing Sajid Khan

In an effort to make this sad sad blog slightly exciting, I decided to do a celebrity interview. I mean, that's what you do, don't you? Got a shitty idea nobody gives a fuck about? Add a celebrity and suddenly "BOOM!" you are rolling around in popularity for whatever shit you came up with. Case in point would be Wipeout hosted by SRK. We already had a better version of the show playing on the same channel but they had to go ahead and make a crappy version of the show and people watch it because SRK is hosting it. It's like you give a person the best car in the world to drive for a month and then you take it away and give him a Maruti Alto. Only you have a celebrity give it to him. Yeah, that's right, you don't have that super-awesome car anymore. No more back massages, seat warmers, shit awesome music system. No more. Now you have an Alto. But wait, a celebrity gave it to you. I hope that makes up for the loss. Let's not even talk about Minute to Win it.

 

      Fuck You AXN!

Well, anyway, since people are that stupid, I decided to take advantage of their limited capacity for rational thought. I got myself an interview with Sajid Khan. Here is how it went.

  Sajid Khan: Director, actor, tv show host, asshole

I met Sajid Khan in a big cardboard box which belonged to a hobo, who lives in the box and was present during the entire interview.

Me: Well, let me start off by asking you why here; In this cardboard box? I mean, I don't mind the setting at all. The sight of this homeless guy eating roadkill right in front of me, does not unsettle me at all. I am just curious. 

SK: To give this interview a mass appeal. 

Being the hard hitting interviewer I am, I told him point blank.

Me: You are lying to me, Sajid. Don't do that again. 

I ended my last statement by taking out the bayonet I had bought specially for this occasion and waved it menacingly in front of Sajid.

Me: You bullshit me again and you'll be this hobo's next meal.

The hobo's interest was piqued. He left the dead rat he had been gnawing upon and started sizing up SK appreciatively. Saliva was gushing down his chin. I could literally see him cook Sajid with his eyes.

Sajid(angry): What the fuck? You think you can threaten me, you puny fuck. Do you know who I am? The greatest film maker India has ever produced! Everyone else is a boob. I am the only talent this nation has. You are going to threaten me? The guy who gave India "Heyy Baby!"? Are you out of your fucking mind?

I thought about this for a second. Opened my rucksack. Took out the file containing my medical history. The first page certified me clinically insane. The rest were photos of pigeons.

 Who is creepy? I am.

The photos of pigeons made sure Sajid realized I meant business. 

SK(visibly subdued): Will you let me go after this interview is over?

Me(Fingering the blade): We'll see.

SK(angry and panicking): Fuck you, motherfucker!

He started to leave or rather escape. I sprang in to action. I grabbed hold of his hair-gel encrusted hair and headbutted him in the face. He reeled back, almost in slow motion, fell on the ground and passed out. The cardboard box plunged into a comfortable silence. I took this opportunity to empty out the contents of my whiskey flask in my mouth. There was still some alcohol left at the bottom. I offered it to the hobo. He took a swig and started retching and cursing violently. Maybe my particular mixture of cheap vodka, rum. whiskey and curd does not appeal to everyone. To each his own.

 NOOOO! What have you made me drink, cockface?

Sajid Khan regained consciousness and found the hobo licking the blood off his face. Sajid pushed the hobo away and got to his feet in sheer panic.

SK(loud squeaking voice): What are you doing to me? What do you want?

Me: Are you asking me or the hobo?

Sajid khan made a run for it, again, but before I could do anything the hobo got to him and punched him in the solar plexus. Sajid khan went down like a house on fire. The hobo looked at me and gave me a conspirator's wink. Sajid Khan rolled himself up in a fetal position. His eyes were blank.

SK(solemnly): I will answer your questions.

Me: That's all I needed to hear. Talk to me about Heyy Baby.

SK(eyes sparkling): Heyy Baby is a modern yet very traditionally Indian film -- you can watch it with your entire family. It deals with single parenthood and will appeal to both, the young and old. Youngsters will like the modern sexuality and women, the single parenthood part of it.

The germ of the idea came to me from my friends who are robustic[sic] guys when it comes to women, and who have not changed even after marriage. But the moment the male actors in the film get a baby girl in their life, their whole perception towards women changes. Though the film is a comedy, it also makes you think. 

Me: Two things. What is robustic and why are you bullshitting me again?

SK(confused): W-w-w-what?

The hobo kicked him in the balls.

Now replace this guy with Sajid Khan.

   

I looked at the hobo and gave serious thought to hiring him. Few minutes of deep thought found me hiring the hobo as " The Truth Seeker". He was to be paid in blood. Sajid Khan's blood.

SK(writhing in pain): Why? Why? Oh God, why?

Me: Because you lied to me. You copied the movie from Three Men and a Baby. You have no friends "robustic" or otherwise. The comment about youngsters appreciating the modern sexuality and women and the single parenthood makes no fucking sense and lastly because you are a talentless fat asshole hated by everyone. I mean why the fuck will youngsters like being single parents, you fat fuck? Make sense or die. Last warning.

I glanced at the hobo. The hobo nodded and proceeded to beat Sajid to a bloody pulp.

Sajid(trying to protect himself from a hailstorm of blows): STOP! I WILL TELL YOU THE TRUTH! Stop! Just please God stop!

I raised my palm and the hobo stopped.

Me: Now, tell me the truth about Heyy Baby.

SK: It is true I copied it from a hollywood movie. I did it because like almost everybody else in bollywood, I have no originality in me. The reason I decided to have the interview in this cardboard box was because for once in my life I wanted to be original. We all know how that turned out. Every joke I have ever cracked is a rip off or an exact copy of something I've seen or heard somewhere else. I am a big fat loser who was living in the shadow of his loud mouthed slightly less dumb sister. I had to get out, man. I had to do something. The movie was my way out. Take a Hollywood movie, add skimpily clad women and some lame ass songs and you are not a nobody anymore. I just wanted to be happy. I just wanted to be loved (sajid khan ended with a sigh).

Me(to the hobo): Was that last part from some hollywood movie?

The hobo grunted as if to say yes. Or maybe he was hungry, now that the rat had been eaten down to the last bit of flesh. I assumed it was a yes. I started moving menacingly towards Sajid Khan, with the bayonet held high above my head.

SK(backing away): I am sorry. Don't hurt me. I am sorry. I don't know what to say. I can't come up with anything original. What do I do? Help me!

With this Sajid Khan started sobbing. For a fleeting moment I felt pity towards him, but then I remembered Heyy Baby, and I hit him in the face with the flat part of the bayonet. The weapon left a huge welt on his face.

Me(ignoring SK's screams): Next time it'll be the blade that will hit your face. 

SK(pleadingly): What do you want me to say? Just tell me and I'll say it.

Sajid was beginning to get on my nerves. 

Me: Your movie is a complete remake of Three Men and a Baby which in turn was a remake of a French film. Your characters are the same as those in the ones made before. The back-story to the characters is pretty much a rip off of the hollywood version and yet you claim that your movie was a complete original with no inspiration from any other movie. You go around claiming to be one of the most talented people around on every talk show. Why? 

SK(defeated): Because it is easy to fool the Indian audience. They are dumb as a fucking rock. I mean you claim something to be the truth for long enough on television and they will eventually believe it. It is too easy. And also because I am an asshole. I really am. Everybody hates me but nobody hates me more than I hate myself. The last time I had sex was with an inflatable doll. Next day the doll was gone. And that's when I live alone and nobody visits me, ever.

 Pictured: Sex doll after sex with Sajid. Also Pictured: Undiluted remorse and pain

Me(curious): Really? The doll was gone?

SK(conversational): It was. Not a fucking trace. The neighbors say they saw someone matching the description of my doll leave the building, but they weren't sure.

Me(shocked): You told your neighbors you had a sex doll?

SK: No, no. I didn't tell them anything. They came up to me and told me they saw someone leave the building they haven't seen before. The description matched that of the doll.

Me: Do they describe everyone who leaves the building to you?

SK(confused): Sometimes.

Me: Coming back to the interview. Why the extra y's in the title of your movie.

SK: I am not sure why. After a while I realized that I can pretty much do anything I want and get away with it. People have gotten so used to trashy cinema, that they don't really care anymore. The y's are there just for the heck of it. I don't even remember how I explained them to the audiences.

Me: What's your beef with Sanjay Leela Bansali.

SK: He is a waste of space like almost everyone in bollywood, but he is more talented than me, therefore, I hate him.

Me: Are you in competition with your sister.

SK(voice filled with hate): I hate that fat cunt. The only thing I hate more than myself is that loud mouthed bitch. I wake up everyday praying she dies. I dream about her dying but there she is. Alive. Making movies which are worse than mine. The fact that she has been allowed to make movies implies there is no God anymore. At least he is not here. Not now.

  Loud mouthed bitch

Me: Are you gay?

SK: I can be if they'll take me. I am desperate to belong to anything, anyone.

Me: Are you--

My sentence was interrupted by Sajid Khan being viciously attacked by the hobo. The hobo went straight for the jugular with his teeth. I watched as Sajid Khan was died mercilessly at the hands of a homeless person in a cardboard box. There was poetic justice in that scene.The interview could not have come to a better conclusion. I left the box as the hobo prepared Sajid Khan for dinner. I was at peace.