Director: Subhash Ghai, 135 mins, tbc, Subtitles

Stars: Anil Kapoor, Shefali Shah, Anurag Sinha, Aditi Sharma

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Is India Islam’s enemy? That is the question posed in this latest attempt to explore the mind of a suicide bomber, Bollywood-style.

It opens in Afghanistan with the shooting of a photographer by the bearded and turbaned Mehmood (Anurag Sinha). Unsurprisingly, he is an Islamic fundamentalist, intent on dying for his cause because “it’s written in the Quran at page 199.” Assuming a new identity 'Numair', our moody protagonist, is subsequently sent to New Delhi, India. He intends to blow apart the August 15 Independence Day celebrations with an exploding biro.

Based in the suburb of Chandni Chowk, Numair is befriended by a Delhi university professor, the liberal Rajan (Anil Kapoor) and his social activist wife Roma (Shefali Shah). With their love of home-cooked food and big fat Punjabi weddings, this couple and their mute but cute kid cause the terrorist to become a humanist.

Director Subhash Ghai’s creative drought continues. It’s a topical, sensitive subject, well worth examining, but do not expect any serious exploration into the psyche of a man willing to commit jihad. Ghai takes the title literally: characters are either pure evil or paragons of virtue. What’s irresponsible is that the fundamentalists are depicted as mainly foreign or Indian Muslims who equate terrorist murders to “having fun”, whilst the Indians are generally Muslim-loving Hindu patriots.

This chauvinist film portrays an idealised India, where Hindus and Muslims peacefully co-exist with love despite minor differences. It rightfully points the finger at corrupt politicians for creating and perpetuating communal disorder. Yet, the baksheesh-taking Indian MP character is called Wazir Shah.

Alien Afghanistan is filmed in grey monochrome; Delhi is all colourful touristy shots of the Indian capital’s landmarks. Kapoor and Shah as the bickering but still in love married couple are credible characters and debutant Sinha has ‘angry young man’ Bachchan potential. They are all short-changed by a script which insists on one dimensional characterisation and the inclusion of the obligatory romantic subplot. Ghai insists on unmemorable songs, sung by an on-screen band, which divagates from the narrative.

All of the above would not matter if this xenophobic film answered intelligently any of the questions it raises. Instead, the simplistic solution proffered to terrorism is similar to Sir Paul McCarthy and Stevie Wonder’s naïve and corny race relations ballad, Ebony and Ivory: love is India’s harmonious message.

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