Do take note: they don’t sprint around trees any more. They don’t shout out loud to almost deaf mothers that they have “passed first class first” at the University Board exams. Moms in snow-white don’t toil at sewing machines. Neither are the dear ole mums entreating their overfed sons to have another bowl of gaajar halwa.
Phrases like “Kaan kholke sun lo” (“listen to me with your ear flaps wide open”), Uska to main khoon pee jaaonga (“I will drink his blood”) and Jalaakar raakh kar doonga (“I’ll burn you to ashes”) are dead and buried.
And if there’s a three-way romance, the hero-heroine-and-the-bone-in-the-cutlet don’t have to assemble around a piano which oddly enough has always emanated drum-guitar-and-banjo sounds.
These are just some of our favourite things which have become near-extinct. To be honest you’re actually missing them. Because the New Age cliches induce louder groans and grrrrrs.
Please don’t make us hobble around the bush of cliches and more cliches. In fact, here are ten constant features of the movies which set my teeth on edge:

Muscle ripples:
The hero must exhibit his six or sixty pack torso. The chests of the Khans, John Abraham and Akshay Kumar are as familiar to the nation as mangoes in summer. Acting calibre takes a backseat. A beefy bod and a curvaceous backside (Tusshar Kapoor’s doing it too) are more vital than histrionics.

Bikini flash:
A one-piece swimming suit was worn by Nutan. With two-piece aquawear Sharmila Tagore and Zeenat Aman grabbed their five minutes of ill-fame. Now, if a Bipasha Basu, Anushka Sharma and Katrina Kaif go umm-huh-maybe-umm, they’re reminded of the bikini clause in the contract. Result: every heroine’s emerging out of water, looking like Bo Derek’s grandbabes.

Corruption Unlimited:
Cops and politicians are so avaricious that Anna Hazare must have stopped watching the movies, especially if they have been made by Prakash Jha. Too much Rageneeti going on.

Boogie breaks:
Helen, Laxmi Chhaya, Padma Khanna and the forgotten Leena Das were as essential to the movies as jal is to macchlis. Now, they are called item numbers, and the best ones are done by Malaika-Arora-Khan ever since she hippy-shaked on top of a Chhaiya chhaiya train. Aircraft next?

Slow mo:
Mani Ratnam’s patented this… if there’s water it falls s….l….o…w…l…y, which is like watching paint peel from a wall.

Aalaaps:
Better known as gargling vocal sounds… to express pleasure and pain… aaaaaa aaaaaa aaaaa… with low notes and very high ones. Lata Mangeshkhar’s aaaa-plaints are mandatory in Yash Chopra movies, usually over visuals of folded velvet or autumnal maple leaves.

End credit song and dance:
Used mainly for the TV promos. When these yo-ya-remixed tracks come on the movie is over and done with. Viewers rush out… but the promo plays on, wasting airconditioning in an empty auditorium.

Woman on top:
Women-centric movies ooze vendetta or are about victimisation by cruel male mutton-heads. Zakhmi Lady roles are reserved for showy performances by Vidya Balan, Vidya Balan, Vidya Balan. How about letting her do a part that doesn’t have JUICY written all over it?

Visits to durgahs:
A qawwali must be in progress here, and the place is near-deserted. The normal crowds would spoil the visual composition.

Lips unzipped:
Emraan Hashmi smooches to the accompaniment of a Sufi-flavoured Pritam track. All newcomers kiss to the accompaniment of Dolby surround lightning and thunder. So much mwaah ado about nothing really.