How many stars sparkle in the sky?
Ever tried counting them?
It would take 6,000 years to count those in our galaxy.
And how many such galaxies exist?
Scientists reckon, two billion more.
Isn't it possible that amongst these billions of celestial bodies
a planet with people like us, exists?
As we explore the space looking for them,
could they be coming here, looking for us?
What the thief stole was the gadget to recall his spaceship.
Without this remote he could not return home.
He neither knew our language, nor did he have a friend here.
Alone, anguished, his only thought was...
"how will I return home?"
On the pathway of time Life is but a brief flame
In its luminous mist We wish, we dream, we exist
But on a beautiful bend
A stranger may we meet
Life after life
Whose memory may persist
Sorry, I raised my hand first.
But I called out first.
I'm a big fan of Harivansh Rai Bachchan.
I'm a bigger fan of his son, Amitabh Bachchan.
I've been reading his poems since I was ten.
I've memorized them all.
I know his dialogues since I was five, without even memorizing them!
Hello, who wants it?
Give it to me. Poetry's not his cup of tea.
100 euros.
100 for a ticket worth 40? Black market of poetry!
I queued up six long hours for this.
-Go for the dialogues. -All yours. Ladies first.
Just a second! Why not split the ticket?
You can enjoy the poetry in the first half
and I'll savor the acting in the second half.
96 euros! How about a discount? We're from the same country.
Hail India, bro!
Long live the motherland! 100 euros.
Sir!
Can I borrow 4 euros? Please!
You can keep my watch till I repay you.
Please, Sir, it's the last ticket.
The show is sold out, child. There are no tickets left.
There is one left with that black marketeer.
Scoundrel!
-He's bringing shame to India. -So true!
Wait here. I'll get you that ticket.
-Sir! -Do I know you?
Where's my ticket?
Ticket? Yours for 100 euros.
Decaying dacoit! Senile snake! Capitalist!
Mind your coat first!
-Now enjoy the show! -Security!
Wrinkled wreck!
Let's get out of here.
-I won't spare you, old man! -Shameless girl!
Don't chase me. Catch him!
Oldies these days! It's a spoilt generation!
Don't let it bother you.
-Forget about it. -How can I?
That bandit must be enjoying the poetry and here I am!
Drop it.
Why pine for the party that shuns us?
Follow the moment that beckons us.
I too dabble in poetry.
It's nice. Go on.
No. If I go on, you'll propose to me.
-Are you crazy? -I mean it!
Your favorite poet, senior Mr. Bachchan
met a lady one morning, wooed her with a verse
and by dusk they were married. So I've read.
And boy! Look what they produced!
Mr. Amitabh Bachchan.
Jaggu.
Jaggu?
My name.
Papa had given me a horrendous name. Jagat Janani!
I used to get mocked at school so I shortened it.
Jaggu!
-From Mumbai? -No. Delhi.
I'm studying TV production here.
And you?
I am Sarfaraz. I study architecture...
and work part-time at the Pakistan Embassy.
The Pakistan Embassy? Why?
Because I'm from Pakistan.
It's unlikely the Indian Embassy will employ me!
What's wrong?
Nothing.
Since I am from Pakistan, it perturbs you, doesn't it?
Alright then.
Goodbye.
Ask not my name, nor my country
From bondage of borders, break free
A few steps on this brief journey
Come, just walk with me
Ask not my name, nor my country
From bondage of borders, break free
A few steps on this brief journey
Come, just walk with me
Past the realms of word and speech
Hand in hand, nowhere to reach
A few steps on this brief journey
Come, just walk with me
Past the realms of word and speech
Hand in hand, nowhere to reach
A few steps on this brief journey
Come, just walk with me
If the sun scorches the pathway
A carpet of shade will I lay
If darkness fills you with dismay
I'll conjure up a moon in the sky
If dejection fills up your day
With laughter I'll shoo it away
Laughing, frolicking, humming a song
Together we shall walk along
With you, my fellow traveler
Nothing in this world I fear
Why a few steps, a whole lifelong
With you I'll walk along
Past the realms of word and speech
Hand in hand, nowhere to reach
A few steps on this brief journey
Come, just walk with me
Mom! Papa!
More photos please!
What's his job? What's his family like?
Calm down, Mom. I'll tell you.
First, tell me the name.
Sarfaraz.
Is he a Muslim?
Yes. He's studying architecture. His family is in Pakistan.
Pakistan! Which Pakistan?
There's just one Pakistan, Mom
You'll wear burkas? Read the Quran? Have you gone crazy?
Don't you disconnect. Stay put.
Start the car.
All's doomed, Your Holiness. Help!
I knew exactly where Papa was headed.
Since childhood, one face had surrounded us: His Holiness.
From bags to the walls of our bathroom
he was omnipresent.
He would set up an auspicious time even for a root canal.
He had gifted Papa a God box with a deity for every task.
Goddess of Wealth for the stock market.
God of Health for workouts.
Web-based worship and sacred sweets by courier
were his innovations.
Hail, Your Holiness.
Touch his feet Jaggu.
Why this fatal infatuation?
Pick up a pen and write.
God...
enlighten me.
Yes.
Your wish is our command.
Write down the prophecy.
This Pakistani boy,
Sarfaraz,
will betray you.
I know he won't.
History stands witness. These people scheme and betray.
He will pursue carnal pleasures.
But he will never marry you. He'll vanish.
Jaggu, come back home! One more night there, and you're dead to us.
Mr. Sahni, let me talk to her.
Child, hit the delete button.
Banish him from your system.
What happened?
-Why? -Will you marry me?
-What's the matter? -Yes or no, Sarfaraz?
Yes, but--
-Tomorrow. -Tomorrow?
Tomorrow we get married.
His prophecy is wrong.
It was from Sarfaraz.
He said, "Marriage isn't just between individuals, but families.
Our faiths, countries, cultures are different.
We can never be happy if our families are unhappy.
Don't try to contact me.
I'm sorry."
New Delhi.
I came back to my city, but my parents refused to see me.
I joined a news channel as a reporter.
Today's story: a depressed dog.
That's our breaking news!
Some days we had the news and some days we fabricated it.
Missing: God.
If found, contact Tipsy.
There's a story in this man. I'll see you at office.
Don't be late!
Why are you handing these out?
I have a case pending with Him.
He neither solves it, nor meets me.
My life is kaput.
He's gone into hiding.
Have you seen Him around?
No.
Hail Goddess, Hail Holy Mother
By the way, what's with the helmet?
I got the idea from taxi-tops.
Yellow yells out from miles.
It's because of this that taxis are spotted easily in traffic.
-So? -So, even God will spot me easily.
How else will he spot me in this crowd?
A bit to your left.
They say animals are not suicidal.
Here's Nikku. Mr. Sweetie Singh's dog.
Nikku has attempted suicide thrice.
He jumped off a roof, licked sleeping pills and hopped onto a gas burner.
What's wrong with Nikku?
Is Nikku prey to a mental problem?
Is Nikku...
What's wrong, Jaggu?
Our chat with famed industrialist, Mr. Ratan continues
right after this break.
You wanna have some coffee?
Get him some coffee.
What's your guess?
Does this dog have depression, anxiety disorder,
schizophrenia, or ADHD?
Whatever, why would I care?
Why do we air such stupid news?
What would you rather air?
Hold him, please.
Look at this.
I met a guy distributing these pamphlets.
-He is searching for God. -Did he find Him?
No. But...
"Searching for God," that's religion. "Finding God," that's news.
If he finds God, get him.
Man, you've changed!
Where's the "Fighter Cherry Bajwa"?
Let me show you. Take a good look.
There are three marks here.
And they aren't birthmarks.
I ran a show against your Dad's guru, His Holiness.
His devotees shoved a trident right here in my bum.
That day I swore that if you want to live in this country
don't mess with religion.
We were chatting with famed industrialist, Mr. Ratan.
The boss killed my story.
But two weeks later, it came back into my life.
Stop! Thief!
He's stealing from the donation box!
Where do you think you're going?
Don't let him go!
Move!
Lifting from the donation box, you fool?
-Yes. -He's no thief!
While donating, my wallet fell in the box.
He was getting it out for me.
Trust me.
Check for yourself. It has 5,000 rupees in it.
-That's mine! -Not anymore.
Once in the box, it's donated.
Now, it belongs to God. Let them go.
Dude, what the hell were you up to?
Claiming my refund.
God took His fee but didn't deliver.
Hang on.
I saw you fish out some money, then put some back in.
I took back what I'd paid at this branch and returned the rest.
You used to wear beads and amulets, right?
Rejected. Gone for good!
Then why the stickers?
Self-defense!
God's pictures on a public wall prevent peeing.
And on the face, prevent punches.
Mitu, where are you?
Please pick me up. I've got no money to get home.
I'll fill you in later.
I'm at Mudrika, outside the temple.
Hurry up. Thanks, bye.
Here you go.
-What for? -For the ride home.
I feel very sad when someone can't get to their home.
-Wait. -That's all I had.
I can't accept this.
-Why? -Won't you need it to get home?
Money can't... get me home.
Why? Where do you live?
I live at the Agrasen step-well.
But in the rainy season, I check into a lock-up.
There are 122 in the city. I yo-yo between them.
And they let you check in, like in a hotel?
Come. I'll give you a demo.
URINATING HERE IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED.
Just watch!
Hey! Look here!
You vandal!
Jaggu!
We have to follow that van.
-Who are we chasing? -A story.
Give me your wallet. I need some cash.
-Hurry! -Here.
-Yes? -I want to go inside the lock-up.
Why?
To meet that guy.
Do you think this is the local coffee joint?
Saunter in and chillax with your buddies?
This is a lock-up, get it?
Only offenders get in.
Bribing is an offense!
That's why I'm committing it!
I can lock you in.
Yes, please.
-Thank you, Mr. Pandey. -One hour, that's it.
I want to know your story. Will you share it?
-Why? -I'm a TV reporter. It's my job.
Go on, ask me whatever you want to.
What's your name?
I don't have a name.
They call me Tipsy here. Beats me why.
And what do you do?
I'm an astronaut.
You mean, those who shoot off to the moon?
I've been there once. It's kaput.
Sure!
So, what's your favorite planet?
-My own. -I meant besides Earth.
Earth is mega-kaput.
I meant my own planet.
It'll show up there, at night.
We went bananas,
when we found another planet with people like us.
I was sent here on a research mission.
Boy, what a welcome I got!
Somebody stole my remote.
Without it, I can't signal my people.
And without a signal they won't come for me.
They'll think it's a perilous planet.
That I'm dead as a dodo.
-Listen. -What?
Let me out. I want to go home.
Your Highness, convicts don't decide that. Cops do.
I'm not a thief!
So say all the thieves.
Where's Mr. Pandey?
He's out, on his rounds.
Mr. Pandey!
-Mr. Pandey! -Shut up, or I'll whack you!
You think I'm talking baloney?
Obviously!
Is Hindi the official language of your planet?
On my planet...
There's no language on my planet.
We read minds. There's no confusion.
Here, you utter something and mean something else.
A two-letter word can have four different meanings.
When you nod and say "oh," it means "Oh, that's cool."
When your eyes pop out, "oh!" means bad news.
"Your mother-in-law is moving in." "Oh!"
Shock.
When angry, you thunder.
"Oh! You'll pay for that blunder!"
And when your thought is deep, your "oh" is long!
"Oh! I see!"
As you hear the words, you've got to watch the expression
to get the real meaning.
It's torture! It took me six hours to learn Hindi.
A whole language in six hours?
No one let me hold hands.
Finally, a nice lady lent her hand.
I held it and transferred her language into my system.
Man, there's no limit to your whoppers!
Is your hand a USB cable,
that transfers files between computers?
And your clothes!
Are faded jeans the rage on your planet too?
No!
On my planet...
No one wears clothes on my planet.
Here, at first I thought...
your skins were different from ours.
Some had sparkly hides,
some, jet black.
Some hides were colorful. Some, white.
Some hides were tight. Some, baggy.
Then one day, I found a car.
A dancing car.
That day I realized our skins were the same.
But yours are covered with this thing called "Fashion."
Now I could mingle.
Yet I was mocked.
Look at him. Half man, half woman!
Slowly, I got it.
There is men's fashion and there is women's fashion.
A fashion for the day
and a fashion for the night.
Sporting fashion
and serving fashion.
With the clothes, I found some photos.
It hit me. These photos meant survival.
You could swap them for food.
So I built a portfolio of this old man's photos.
What's this?
What are these for?
Why are you giving me this junk?
Right! Now we're talking!
Here you go.
I got it. This photo had value on just one kind of paper.
On any other paper, it was worthless.
Dancing cars were widely available for cash and clothes.
They were my bank, and my tailor.
Once, I got such a magnetic attire
that no photos were required.
The food was brought to me.
For you, Sir.
Now, to find my remote, I had to learn this planet's language.
Without it, every task was a trial.
Like telling this gentleman
that there was a defect in his fashion.
I felt I had spoilt his fashion.
So I put it back the way it was.
I found him on the road.
Some scumbag hit him and bolted.
Seems pretty okay.
But he isn't responding.
Has his eardrum called it a day?
Are you deaf?
He can hear alright, but he isn't talking.
Seems he's in a state of shock.
I'm afraid it could be memory loss.
Do you remember the scumbag who hit you?
Do you remember the license plate?
Do you remember anything at all?
Come, my friend. Come with me.
Be my guest till you get your memory back.
Keep slamming your head.
One knock took your memory away, another might bring it back.
I've seen it in the movies.
To figure what he was yapping about,
I had to hold his hand and transfer his language into me.
Do you remember your wife--
Hey!
With memory loss your gender sense went for a toss?
Wait a moment.
Look at my license.
Rogue, rascal, scumbag.
To return home I had to hold someone's hand.
Here comes my zany guest
Can't tell guy from gal Happily hits on all
Here comes my zany guest
Can't tell guy from gal Happily hits on all
Your frantic antics if not stilled, Will surely get me killed!
Don't be a scourge Do curb your urge
Here comes the lusty lad My guest with this crazy fad
Tourist in tacky gear Are you from near or far
From Mumbai, Madrid or Madagascar?
Tourist in tacky gear Are you from near or far
From Mumbai, Madrid or Madagascar?
What was your name at school? Was it nerdy or was it cool?
What's the zip code Of your abode
Did you alight from a cloud Or sprout from underground
Your frantic antics if not stilled, Will surely get me killed!
Don't be a scourge Do curb your urge
Here comes the lusty lad My guest with this crazy fad
This memory loss is a blessing
Feuds forgotten Lenders left guessing
Lovable lad
Innocent cad
Don't be a scourge Do curb your urge
Here comes the lusty lad My guest with this crazy fad
The lusty lad With a crazy fad
Hits on all
The lusty lad With a crazy fad
Hits on all
Here comes the lusty lad My guest with this crazy fad
Here comes the lusty lad!
Here comes the lusty lad My guest with this crazy fad
I feel your pain, bro.
But don't go grabbing hands.
You may end up in a bed, but most likely a hospital bed.
Don't give up, I know the place for you.
Hand or foot, hold whatever.
No one will bash you here.
Come.
What a neighborhood! Virtuous, welcoming women.
All reaching for my hand, inviting me home.
Here I met a serene and gentle woman, Pepper.
Pepper, take him to the honeymoon suite.
Pepper sat patiently all night.
And for six hours, I transferred her language files into me.
From ABC to XYZ, I drew in everything.
Is it your first time? Kaput before you kicked off?
Yes...
Where are you from?
Far, far away.
From a village you'd have never heard of.
But you speak my lingo.
Because I learnt it from you, sister.
Sister! You think this is a convent? Out!
Bro!
Bro, wake up!
Bro!
You're talking!
Bro, I need your help.
Pepper cleared up your throat!
Bro, come with me.
Memory and making out have a direct connection!
We should update the doctors. "Get laid, get well!"
It's urgent, bro!
Okay, let's go.
Stop! Stop!
Stop, bro!
The jerk robbed me right here.
I need my chain, bro. I must get it back.
-Is it precious? -It's priceless!
The thief must be a local.
But he must have sold the loot in Delhi.
If he sells pricey stuff here, he'd get caught.
Then I must go.
Where?
Delhi.
-Officer! -Yeah?
-Somebody stole my remote control. -Are you tipsy?
You're expecting the police force to track your TV remote?
-It's not a TV remote! -Then?
Can't tell you. But it's like a chain.
Really precious.
-Where was it stolen? -In Mandawa.
The theft took place at Mandawa
and you're searching for it in Delhi, you idiot?
The thief came to Delhi.
-So? -So where's the thief?
Blockhead! It's a city of 15 million.
Police are humans, not God.
Only God can help you.
Surrender to God, you'll succeed.
Surrender to God.
Only God knows.
Ask God, not me!
Ask God!
Trust in God, my child.
Who was this God chap? Everyone said only He could help.
What I saw blew my mind.
Earthlings had figured out who had manufactured them!
Their creator lived with them. He had millions of houses.
Earthlings took their problems to Him, which He solved for a small fee.
My planet had no such facility.
I could not believe it! So I decided to test it.
One take-away God.
Which one? One for 20, 50, 100 or 500?
What's the difference between the one for 20 and the one for 500?
Just the size. Otherwise ditto.
The one for 20 is equally efficient, right?
Okay, give me 15. Nothing less.
God, I am famished. Get me some food please.
I went bananas!
God actually worked! Now I could go home.
God, my remote is stolen.
Please find it. I want to go home.
God's battery died. Worked once, then kaput.
-What do you mean? -Stick a new battery in.
Where does it go?
-It needs no battery. -Then why is it off?
-Manufacturing defect? -I make no defective stuff.
-You made this God? -Of course! With my own hands.
Did you make God or did God make you?
He made us all. I only make His statues.
Why the statues?
To worship Him. To voice our problems.
Is there a transmitter inside? How can He hear us?
God needs no transmitter. He hears directly.
Directly? Then why the statue?
What's with him?
Do you want to bust my business? What's your problem?
My remote is stolen, Sir.
I'm requesting God to find it. But He doesn't reply.
-Are you tipsy? -Meaning?
You're overloading this pint-sized God.
His itty-bitty feet can't chase the thief.
Bother, the big God is inside the temple.
He'll run fast.
Offer Him coconut and some money. He'll deliver.
That'll be 200.
Earthlings waited with fees to get their work done.
Two hours later, I got the appointment.
God!
God, please get my remote back.
-Where is it? -Move!
Wait, He didn't deliver my stuff.
He didn't deliver! I paid the fee.
-Your work will be done. -But when?
Can't say when, but it will be done.
-Move! -But when will I get it?
Don't block the line, scram!
If I scram, He might give it to someone else.
-Are you tipsy? -Lady, please!
Where will I get my stuff?
At the mental hospital!
What? I paid here and the delivery at the mental hospital?
-Throw him out! -At least give me a receipt.
How will I claim my delivery without a receipt?
Get out!
-But what about my remote? -Leave!
I can't find my shoes.
Somebody might've taken them. Now you take your pick.
Rotation is a routine at temples.
He took the payment, but didn't deliver.
What's his name?
-They call Him God. -Real name?
No idea.
Where does he live?
In that temple.
-You handed him the cash? -No. I put it in His box.
-Did he say he'd do the job? -He says nothing.
Is he mute?
Perhaps... Maybe.
Oh.
Describe him.
Ditto.
But a bigger chap.
Come closer.
Are you tipsy?
Yes. But how do you all know?
Do you think I'm a jackass? I've been a cop for 20 years.
I can tell in a snap who's tipsy and who's not.
Kirpal, frisk him.
-Let me have a look. -Sir.
Dr. D'Mello.
Doc, why get so buzzed that you forget your faith?
Mistook temple for a church! Wanna rouse a riot?
Go to church. To your own God.
Church?
Get out of here!
-My stuff! My remote! -Get out!
God was crucified for your sins. Ungrateful man!
Crucified! When?
2,000 years ago.
What did I do? I just got here.
-Are you tipsy? -Yes!
He's watching your behavior.
Where?
Where is God?
What's in that mug?
Wine! Now I got it!
God was bored of coconut water.
Now He preferred wine. But wine was expensive.
So I had to muster money.
I got some from the dancing car. And some from a gentleman
who held out a bowl of dole everyday.
You could withdraw as per your need.
Sir, is there a God's house nearby?
Right there.
Preacher, let me drink
In God's abode
Or show me a place Where there is no God
Stop! What's that?
Wine, for God.
Where is He?
This lady looked very sad.
To know why, I grabbed her hand.
Hitting on a widow, you lech!
Widow? How do you know?
Don't you see she's clad in white?
I am so sorry your husband's dead.
-What? -When?
How do I know? You are clad in white.
Brides wear white!
No, widows wear white.
-Widows wear black, stupid! -Got it?
-Are your husbands no more? -Oh, God!
I'm alive, you moron! I'll whack you!
After many whacks, I learnt that there wasn't one God.
There were many Gods.
Each with His own set of rules.
Each God had come up with His own company.
They called it religion.
Each company had its agents.
All Earthlings belonged to some religion
and followed the God of that religion alone.
What was my religion? Who was my God?
To find the remote I had to know my God.
What are you doing?
Where is the label?
What label?
The religion label.
How do you know which company he belongs to?
Where does God label them?
Finding my religion was tough.
So I decided to worship all Gods.
Perhaps, one of them would be my God, who'd help me.
It's You who governs The world I hear
Do listen to my plea My home beckons me
God where are You?
Tell me, where are You?
You guide back to sanity Those who've lost their way
I too am completely lost Guide me too, I pray
God where are You?
Tell me, where are You?
Shall I worship You in temples?
In mosques do my faith I show?
Or to a Gurudwara would You like me to go?
Temples and churches, I looked everywhere
My hope now, Has turned to despair
Not a single ritual Did I ever flout
Like millions around I submit without a doubt
God where are You?
Tell me, where are You?
You have many names And many faces too
I've walked each of the myriad Paths which lead to You
In no shrine did I find You
What else should I do to find you? Give a clue
I blindly follow and With reverence treasure
Your every whim and fancy In more than ample measure
God, where are You?
Tell me, where are You?
God, where are You?
Tell me, where are You?
God, I'm all confused.
What's my fault? Why can't my voice reach you?
Understand my plight.
Give me some guidance.
Please.
Shall I talk to you with my hands clasped,
or on bent knees, head to the ground?
Do I wake you with temple bells?
Or call out on a loudspeaker?
The Geeta, the Quran, or the Bible, what do I read?
Your different managers say different things.
Some insist fasting on Monday, others urge on Tuesday.
Some forbid food after sunset, some after sunrise.
Some say, worship the cow. Others say, slaughter her.
Some send me barefoot to the temple. Some, wearing shoes to the church.
What is right and what is wrong?
I am clueless.
I'm at a breaking point.
I want to go home.
I'll do whatever you ask. Just get me home.
Please.
Say something.
At least one of you...
give me an answer.
Please.
MISSING: GOD.
Why the lock, man?
I won't let you go today!
Open it! It's my entry!
Lord Shiva, the slayer of sins, who fears none...
-Who are you? -Don't you recognize me?
I'm Tipsy!
Where the hell is the security?
Do I perform for drunkards in the toilet?
Unlock the door! Right now!
First give me my remote!
-What remote? -The remote of my spaceship.
Spaceship?
Did you forget? For the zillionth time,
I'm not from here. I'm from a far off planet.
Put this away!
Give me my remote, and I go home. Got it?
Brother, let me go. I've little kids at home.
I know! You fathered two Gods.
Both are centuries old. They can be home alone.
First my remote, then your family reunion.
Oh, God, please save me!
There's a God above you, too?
Lord Shiva, help!
Where is he?
Help!
Hail Lord Shiva...
-Hail Lord Shiva. -Hail Lord Shiva!
I was meditating on the snowy peaks of the Himalayas...
and suddenly, there was light!
Dazzling light!
It came from a bead lying in the snow.
I shut my eyes and invoked God.
Next moment, I was connected.
I said, "God, enlighten me.
What is this miraculous object,
that is warm even in this biting cold?"
God said,
"It's a divine bead from Lord Shiva's necklace.
Take it and enshrine it in a grand temple.
Sighting this bead will heal all suffering."
Hail Lord Shiva.
Are you ready for the sighting of...
the divine bead from Lord Shiva's necklace?
Hail Lord Shiva!
Hail Lord Shiva.
Hail Lord Shiva!
-Stop. -Let him through.
He's awed by the sight.
-Come. -Hail Lord Shiva.
Not there, child. Come here.
Express your ecstasy.
Hail Lord Shiva.
God, where are you? Please step out,
I want to thank you.
He's right here.
I met Him in the toilet.
I asked for my property and He bolted.
I thought He vamoosed.
But, no! He led me to my property.
Hail Lord Shiva.
This isn't Lord Shiva's bead.
It's my property, misdelivered to you.
Your bead must be misdelivered too.
Ask God, He is right here.
God, do step forward, clarify.
Anyway, I'll take my property.
That's mine! Why are you stopping me?
-Hail Lord Shiva. -Hail Lord Shiva!
A traveler of dreams...
Neither a devotee, nor an unbeliever
Oh Lord, tell me
Where am I?
Why do you play this game Of hide and seek with me?
Please take me home
My heart is lost
Since when have you felt that you're from another planet?
Listen, you need to see a psychiatrist.
Time up! That's all you get for 500 rupees.
Just a minute.
Here's my card.
My number's on it. If you wish, I'll get you an appointment.
Feel free to call. Okay?
Thank you, Mr. Pandey.
You think my story is a lie, don't you?
Then go back to the suicidal dog, Nikku!
That's the story for you.
Mr. Pandey, I need to go back in for 2 minutes.
Quit going in and out!
Another 500 and he's all yours.
When did I mention Nikku, the suicidal dog?
You didn't.
So how do you know?
When you held my hand, I read your thoughts.
You thought, "This story is dead.
I got to live with the Nikku story."
Don't lie! I must have mentioned it.
I cannot lie. Lying needs language.
And on my planet, we hold hands and read minds.
-Give me your hand. -No way.
-Try it. -Help me, son.
My wife's ill. The hospital wants a deposit of 10,000 rupees.
I'm short of 500. Please help me...
Let me give you some money.
-Here. -Give me your address.
I'll courier a check.
The courier won't reach my home. Please keep it.
Thank you.
Sir.
Here's another 100. For the tip.
Bless you.
This proves that you're no mind reader.
You got conned. There is no hospital around here.
I know!
He's gifting his wife a five star dinner.
It's her 75th birthday.
She has never been to a fancy place.
He's been saving from his pension for months.
She ordered ice-cream and his budget went kaput.
With an excuse to go to the restroom, he ran out for some bucks.
Another yarn!
Ma'am, on my planet, we don't lie!
Anyway, it's up to you.
-Here. -Thank you, Sir.
One moment. Tip him.
Why hold back? It's your birthday!
Thank you.
CONTACT: TIPSY, THE AGRASEN STEP-WELL.
I told you. On my planet, we don't lie.
Hope you haven't told anyone...
Have you told anyone that you're an alien?
No way!
They'd lock me in a lab, and rip me up for research!
How come you told me?
Ever since I set foot on this planet
everyone has taken money from me.
You were the first to give up 5000 rupees for me.
I thought you are a good egg. I could trust you.
I'll get your remote back, Tipsy.
How?
I haven't figured it out yet, but you'll go back home.
What are you goggling at?
You.
Aliens don't drop by my house everyday.
Does everyone on your planet have stick-out ears?
-Yup, ditto. -And everyone roams around naked?
Isn't it weird?
That crow is naked. Does it look weird?
But if it dons a tie, it'd definitely look weird.
Tipsy, I was up all night...
thinking how to get your remote back.
Connect to Balbir Singh. Room no. 4.
Isn't it the Fortis Hospital?
You've been dialing the wrong number since yesterday.
Impossible! I can't be wrong every time!
So how do we get the remote?
Hello, connect to Balbir Singh. Room no. 4.
-Sorry, Sir. You're late. -What happened?
Balbir died this morning.
What! How can a piles surgery be fatal?
It is embarrassing, but don't worry.
We'll have "heart attack" written on the death certificate.
It shouldn't spoil the family's reputation.
-Come for the body. -On my way.
-Okay, bye. -Get the car--
Why did you say that?
I'm doling out joy.
When he finds his friend alive, imagine his joy!
What!
I was sick of his calls. So I played a prank.
-A prank? -Tipsy, I was just kidding!
Oh!
I got it! Someone is playing pranks.
When His Holiness dials God,
cocking his head, "God, enlighten me."
His calls are going to a wrong number.
Someone out there is playing pranks.
The real God wouldn't call my remote a bead.
Looks like the phone lines to God have gone kaput.
All calls to God are going to a wrong number!
-As in? -I always used to think,
why would the real God give such weird solutions?
Why would He say, "come rolling to me, then I'll help you!"?
Aren't we God's children?
Would a father make his kids roll for help?
I'm sure your dad would've never said
"Kiddo, you want a new dress? Start rolling!"
Why would He want to bathe in milk? That's illogical!
And if these calls went to the real God, what would He say?
He'd say, "millions of my children are starving on the streets.
Give them milk. Don't give me a lactose shower."
I'm sure someone's playing pranks, like you did.
Tipsy thought His Holiness was a victim of pranks.
I didn't clear his confusion...
for a crazy idea was forming in my head.
An idea that would get back Tipsy's remote.
Who's this Tipsy?
That's a mystery.
But the way he sees this world is unique.
-As in? -If he saw you smoking,
he'd call the cops to say that you're attempting suicide.
Why?
The pack says "Smoking kills" yet you puff away.
So what's the big idea?
Face-off.
Between Tipsy and His Holiness.
We'll take the face-off to TV.
-Ratings will go through the roof! -Jaggu.
I have three trident marks on my right bum.
You want three more on my left for balance?
Tipsy won't fight His Holiness, but gently explain, that...
his calls to God are going to a wrong number.
His Holiness will be stumped.
Tipsy's here. Please meet him once.
I bet his queries will baffle you.
Excuse me, you dropped this.
That's not mine.
Kamasutra condoms, strawberry flavor.
I hate strawberries, man. Why don't you ask others?
It's not mine. Buzzed bozo!
Is this yours, Ma'am?
-Check your purse if it's missing. -Shameless cad!
-Has to be yours. -No, not mine.
Tipsy, it's his.
Ask him about it. Come on in.
Come in.
What's this?
It's a condom.
-What does it do? -It controls the world's population.
How?
It has to be worn... while having sex.
How does your wearing it control the world's population?
Not just me. Millions wear it.
And they all borrow it from you?
Everyone has it.
-I've a question. -Go on, Tipsy.
When money is dropped, all run for it.
But when a condom is dropped, all run away from it. Why?
-Sex is a very private matter. -Why?
You don't announce it to the world saying, "I'm having sex today."
But, at weddings, with fireworks and music bands,
why do they tell the whole town, "I'm having sex today"?
What's the matter?
I have no answer for you but I have a job for you.
Let's beat it before he changes his mind.
Shield your holy bum, Your Holiness. My trident is on its way.
Tipsy, here His Holiness connects his devotees to God
for solutions to their woes.
Listen carefully to his calls.
If you think the calls are going to a wrong number, alert him.
-Will that get me my remote? -Once he realizes
that the bead story is a prank, he'll return your remote.
Good plan. Let's go.
To build a home for someone is a holy deed.
To build a home for God is the holiest deed.
So donate for the temple.
And see your woes flee.
Son, voice your woe.
Your Holiness,
my wife's been paralyzed for six months.
The doctors have given up. What should I--
God...
enlighten me.
Yes.
What place?
What transport?
Your wish is our command.
Have you heard of the Rathong glacier?
No.
It's in the Himalayas. Take a train to Silliguri...
then a bus to Gangtok.
Then an eight day trek.
You'll reach a grand temple.
Pray there, your problem will be solved.
Wrong number! This is a wrong number!
-What? -Wrong number!
Your Holiness, your phone line to God has gone kaput.
Your calls are going to a wrong number
and a fake God is playing pranks.
What are you trying to say?
I'll explain. Aren't we God's children?
Yes, so?
If your kid's in trouble and asks for a solution
would you help him promptly, or would you say,
"Kiddo, I've another house 2,000 miles away.
Come there and tell me the same problem again.
Then I'll solve it." What bull!
If the call went to the real God,
He'd say, "Son, tend to your ailing wife.
Don't run after me.
After death, you'll come to me anyway.
Give her your time now." Right?
I can prove it's a prank.
Call this fake God again and ask,
what's the guarantee that she will get well.
Sir, don't leave her side till you get it in writing.
Just call, and clear all the doubts.
It's time for His Holiness' holy silence.
Praise be to God
Glory be to God
The woes of your devotees...
This fake God is passing off my property as a holy bead.
He is no God. He is a fraud.
He is a fraud!
God doesn't talk to us mortals.
He communicates through His managers.
-Tipsy has raised a big question. -What?
Is God really talking to the managers?
No.
So where do these commands come from?
-From a wrong number! -So what should the public do?
Till the phone lines are fixed, don't depend on God's managers.
Help each other in difficult times.
A great tip from Tipsy.
Don't rely on God's managers.
Rely on each other.
-Hail Lord Shiva. -Hail Lord Shiva.
Tipsy says that you shouldn't build the temple,
because that bead belongs to him.
What's in your pocket?
-Do you smoke? -Yes.
-Do you consume alcohol? -Occasionally.
You smoke cigarettes, consume alcohol
despite knowing their fatal effects.
Governments permit these poisons,
factories manufacture them, stores sell them.
And nobody questions this.
But in this sacred land
of Lord Rama and Krishna
where I wish to build a temple...
why am I being asked these questions?
Why not question the man
who is trying to stall this temple?
Who's this Tipsy?
What's his real name?
Why is he hiding it? Is he a Muslim?
If you must question, go ask Tipsy
what is his religion?
Find out his religion. Find out his faith.
Centuries ago, Mohammad of Ghazni...
came and destroyed our temples.
Today, another invader wants to repeat history.
But we won't allow...
Your God asks my religion. Let's ask Him
the religions of these people.
-What nonsense! -Call up your God!
Why bother God? I'll tell you.
This one is a Hindu. He's a Christian.
Sikh, Jain
and... she is of your religion.
Enlighten him.
Hello, I'm Sikh.
Greetings. I'm Muslim.
I am Jain.
Hi, I'm Christian.
Hello! I'm Hindu.
Bamboozled!
I swapped their robes. Got it?
Faith is connected to fashion.
Want a demo? Check the math.
Beard + mustache + turban = Sikh.
Minus turban = Hindu.
Minus mustache = Muslim!
This difference is made by the fake God.
If the real God wanted it, He'd put a label on us.
-Is there a label on your body? -Mine?
Don't gape, strip and check!
Why be coy?
Everyone strip and show His Holiness. Is there any label?
Cut the coyness. Okay, I'll go first.
Look.
Is there a label? Is there?
Is there a label? Check some more.
Remove this ruffian.
-Get out! -Hey! I'm proving a point.
Start the chants!
Praise be to God Glory be to God
Why don't you understand? That's no divine bead.
Jaggu!
Stop this farce!
Papa?
You were only 40 days old when His Holiness christened you.
Remember, he who gives you a name, can ruin it too.
Papa, he named me Jagat Janani.
How can he ruin it further?
Name your price!
Papa!
Trying to scare His Holiness to extort money, aren't you?
No.
You'll burn in Hell! Fear the wrath of God!
Thank you, Papa! Thank you.
I'd solved only half the puzzle. You pieced it together.
Fear is the key.
The prankster is cashing in on fear. Get it?
Not exactly, but can you explain it to Papa?
You bet! I can prove it. Follow me.
I don't have time for this nonsense.
If it turns out to be nonsense, I'll call off the show.
Exams are on at this college. The students are scared stiff.
Now, we'll establish our business: The Fear Factory.
Come on.
Machine installed.
A little seed capital.
Now the inauguration.
Just watch! The capital shall double in 15 minutes.
Look there.
The first customer.
Tea! Piping hot tea!
Check the investment of the tea vendor.
Kettle, tea, sugar, bike, thermos...
And here, a rock and a red mark.
Tea! Piping hot tea!
There, you've got to woo the clients.
Here you've got to shoo them away.
Hey, scram. Give others a chance
There you bow before the customer.
Here the customer bows before you.
If he's in deep trouble, he'll lie before you!
The wrong number guy trades in fear.
He knows, "Those in dread, to the temple head."
You too, seem afraid! Off with these.
Do not question religion.
It's a matter of faith!
If God didn't want us to raise questions
He wouldn't have given us the power to reason.
Guardians of religion use violence when they can't answer us.
They scare us into silence. But now we won't be silent.
So far one Tipsy raised questions. Now there will be a thousand.
Friends, pick up your phones.
When you spot a wrong number,
shoot it and send it to us.
We'll put it on TV.
Dump your fear, ask questions.
Holy Sir!
One question.
If you can conjure gold from thin air
why don't you end the nation's poverty?
Answer, please.
Holy Sir!
Since you're a walking gold mine, why do you ask us for donations?
God is great!
This is a wrong number.
Jaggu, come with me.
Come.
The wrong number idea is a national rage.
-What! -It's spread like wild fire.
Come, take a look!
Guru said that to land a job I should feed a cow.
Is this cow an employment agent?
Or will it post my résumé on Monster.com? It's a wrong number.
Watch this one!
He says, convert to Christianity, or be damned.
If God wanted, I would've been Christian by birth.
Why convert now? It's a wrong number.
These girls want to go to school.
A new dictate says, "Kill them if they do."
Is God so inconsiderate that He'll deny knowledge to children?
It's a wrong number.
What God has destined for you will happen.
He has a master plan for the universe.
You have to accept it.
Your disciples say, "To get a male child,
buy this book, and chant the mantras."
So buy a 10 rupee book
and bust God's master plan!
Tipsy! Your show's a hit! Messages are pouring in.
Here's another.
What happened?
It's from Papa.
He's ashamed that I'm his daughter.
You know, I was in tenth grade...
when I wrote my first poem.
It was for Papa.
"They say my Mom I resemble. I say, possible.
But I'm my Daddy's girl."
I recited it on the Annual Day.
All the parents applauded.
But one whistled with joy.
The applause ended, but the whistling continued.
It was Papa.
And now this message.
There's a wrong number in your Papa's head.
The day he gets rid of it, he'll whistle for you again.
It won't happen.
-Don't be sad. Come with me. -Where?
On my planet, when people are sad, this is what they do.
What are you doing, Tipsy?
Recharge the battery!
-What! -Just copy me.
Tipsy...
What are we doing?
Shut your eyes.
Then how will I copy you?
Right. Keep them open.
To steal glances of you all day
To strain for every word you say
To put every chore aside
And follow your every stride
That's nothing but a waste of time
Love is a waste of time
Amore is nothing more
Love is a waste of time
But my mind and heart insist
Once in this life at least
I must waste my time
Without reason or rhyme
I want to waste my time
I love this waste of time
A zillion peeps into the mirror
A million times I've styled my hair
Countless sets of clothes I've tried
Emptied perfume bottles with flair
Dressing up is all I did Did nothing else worthwhile
Now I understand
That love is a waste of time
But my mind and heart insist
Once in this life at least
I must waste my time
Without reason or rhyme
I want to waste my time
I love this waste of time
My world has Topsy-turvy turned
I know not how to tell you
I smile without rhyme or reason
What's happening I have no clue
The mind just wants to soar And from roof-tops yell
Now I understand Love is a waste of time
But my mind and heart insist
Once in this life at least
I must waste my time
Without reason or rhyme
I want to waste my time
I love this waste of time
The donation box is getting more questions than cash.
Your relics don't sell anymore.
These are the negative comments on Facebook and Twitter.
-Just five? -Those are in support.
The abuses are in here.
It's time for action, Sir. Avoiding the issue can be disastrous.
MISSING: GOD.
Call, Bajwa.
Tipsy has asked many questions. I'll ask him just one.
His Holiness wants to come on the show.
To debate with Tipsy.
Tipsy will rip him!
Get Tipsy ready.
Don't miss, The Final Question. Sunday, 6:00 p.m.
My pal's become a star! Hey, look. He's become a star!
The star was roaming butt-naked.
I made him a star. The bloke's on TV
and here I am, in a shitty shack of this shanty town,
guzzling booze with a jackass like you.
Star, my foot!
Tipsy, it's a call from Bhairon Singh.
Bhairon!
-Bro! -You lusty lad.
You're a rock star!
Bro, where are you?
In Mandawa. Coming to Delhi tomorrow.
With a gift for you.
I've nabbed the thief who stole your stuff.
He sold it for 40 grand.
-Guess to who? -Who?
His Holiness!
God said,
"It's a divine bead from Lord Shiva's necklace.
Take it and enshrine it in a grand temple.
Sighting this bead--"
Hey!
What happened?
The thief who stole my remote has been caught.
Bro said, the thief sold it to His Holiness.
Then His Holiness is finished!
We'll tell him, "Return the remote, or the thief tells all on TV."
So he didn't find my remote in the Himalayas!
He's lying.
Wrong numbers are not floated by some fake God,
but by His Holiness.
Did you know about this, Jaggu?
Do you remember the day you mentioned wrong numbers to me?
All his calls are going to a wrong number.
I knew that you were on the wrong track. But I kept mum.
If you would've called him a fraud, people would've killed you.
People crave for the unique.
Wrong number!
Your "wrong number" concept was unique.
-Today the world supports you. -This is a wrong number.
Tipsy, my plan worked! You're going home!
You'll fly away tomorrow, my friend.
We'll never meet again.
There will be such a void.
Should I stay back?
How can you?
I'm serious. I have a job.
I'll get some ID made and settle here.
I'll find someone to "waste time" with me.
I'll marry her.
-Who will marry you? -Why not?
Your wife will go nuts introducing you.
"Meet my husband. He's Tipsy!"
That's not my name! Nonsense!
-Tipsy! -I'll get a real name.
Why don't you suggest one? A name you like.
A man's name must match his personality.
Right!
So how is my personality?
Let me give you a demo.
A poet once wrote...
Irony of mismatched names.
No poetry, please! I've something to say.
Who says, "What's in a name?"
How do I make her understand?
If you don't get the right one what a pain.
Mr. Burns is in fact so cool.
With violence alone Mr. Peace does rule.
His name is Mr. Fox but has no bushy tail.
The name is Mr. Green, but he's always pale.
One whole ton is the weight of Mr. Flower.
At his mere sight, the poor chair does cower.
Very nice. Very nice.
Here's a bunch of cards with different names.
Pick the one you like.
Danduram Thatte?
-Disaster! -Next!
Tutari Singh?
Sarfaraz...
-Sarfaraz. -What happened?
Keep going, find a good name.
What's the matter?
Nothing.
Brother!
God is in His Heaven We mortals on ground
Nowadays He doesn't have Time to look around
God is in His Heaven We mortals on ground
Whatever may happen here He does not reprimand
Thousand evils, million wrongs He does not take a stand
Plundering is all around Bombs come to hound...
A terrorist outfit has claimed responsibility for the blast.
They say, "This was a mock drill.
Persecute our people, and real war will follow.
We shall protect our God."
Where are you going, Tipsy?
On the show.
You don't have to.
I must, more than ever.
The Final Question.
Welcome to our special show
-where we'll meet Tipsy and-- -Wait a minute.
Bring it.
What is this?
God says, it's a divine bead from His necklace.
This man claims, it's his property.
God says, build a temple.
And this man opposes it.
Who should I listen to? God, or this gentleman
who used to hand out these blasphemous pamphlets?
First he claimed, God is missing.
Then said, God is a fraud.
Next he'll say, God is dead.
What do you want, son? A world without God?
Do you have any clue how people suffer?
People have no food to eat...
no place to live.
No friend to talk to.
People kill themselves. Slit their wrists, jump off buildings.
Why? Because they have no hope.
If bowing before God, smearing holy ash,
wearing amulets, gives them hope to live,
then who are you to snatch away that hope?
And if you snatch away their God,
how will you fill that void?
This man rants about wrong numbers.
Today he must tell us, what is the right number.
You are right, Your Holiness.
There was a time when I too had no food to eat.
No place to live.
I used to cry a lot because I had no friend.
The only thing I had, was hope.
God.
Each day I hoped, tomorrow will be better.
God will find a solution.
I agree that believing in God gives hope...
the strength to face ordeals.
But I have one question.
Which God should I believe in?
You say there is one God.
I say no.
There are two Gods.
One who created us.
And the other, whom you created.
We know nothing about the God who made us.
But the God you made up, is just like you.
Petty. Takes bribes, makes false promises.
Readily meets the rich, keeps the poor waiting.
Thrives on flattery. Makes you live in fear.
My right number is simple.
Believe in the God who created us.
And the God you created...
should be abolished.
You'll abolish my God and I'll keep quiet?
I know how to protect my God.
You will protect God?
You!
This is a puny planet.
Billions of bigger planets float in the space.
And you, sitting in a tiny corner of this puny planet, have the nerve to say
that you will protect Him? The creator of the universe!
He doesn't need your protection. He can protect Himself.
Today someone tried to protect their God and my friend died.
This is all that's left, his shoe.
Stop protecting God.
Or else this planet will have no humans, only shoes.
A Muslim terrorist blows up a train
and a Hindu guru endures your sermon. That's nice.
What's this Hindu, Muslim? Show me the label.
You created these differences, not God.
This is the deadliest wrong number of this planet.
It kills people, separates them.
Like your wrong number separated Jaggu from Sarfaraz.
-What wrong number? -That Sarfaraz would betray her.
And he did betray her.
-Hold on. What's going on? -Hold it.
Are you telling me that my prophecy about Sarfaraz was wrong?
Exactly!
Then prove it. Prove my prophecy wrong!
And if you fail, you'll have to fall at my feet and admit
that you are a liar. And that you tried to defame me.
What if I prove it?
No, Tipsy!
Then this shall be yours.
I accept.
Turn the cameras towards Jagat Janani.
I hope you will answer my questions truthfully.
In Belgium you fell in love with a Pakistani boy.
True or false?
Please spare my personal life.
On Friday, at 3:21 p.m.
I predicted that this boy will betray you.
The next day you went to the Marriage Registrar's office
but he didn't show up.
-True or false? -Yes, he didn't come.
Now will you come to my feet or should I walk up to you?
-Sarfaraz did not betray. -Please let it go!
No. Tell us what happened that day.
Just once, for my sake.
I was at the Marriage Registrar's office and...
-I received a letter. -Did Sarfaraz bring it?
No. He sent it through a kid.
-Was it signed? -No!
Then how do you know that Sarfaraz sent it?
It could have been for some other girl.
There was another girl. With a cat, right?
She asked you to hold the cat for a while, right?
The kid who gave you the letter, did he know you?
-No. -Did you know him?
No.
Then how would he know that the letter was for you?
Maybe he was told to give the letter to the girl with the cat.
You read the letter, but didn't call Sarfaraz.
Did you?
Because this man planted a wrong number in your head
that Muslims betray.
Sarfaraz didn't betray you, Jaggu.
What's going on?
You expect us to believe these cat and bull stories?
One minute.
We'll get to the truth right now. Jaggu, call Sarfaraz.
This number does not exist.
Any other number?
-What about his home phone number? -I don't know.
I work at the Pakistan Embassy.
He used to work at the Pakistan Embassy.
Put it on the speakers.
Greetings. Pakistan Embassy.
A student from Lahore worked with you.
Sarfaraz Yousuf.
Is your name Jaggu?
Hello. Is your name Jaggu?
Yes. How do you know?
She called!
The girl from Delhi has called!
Farah, it's Jaggu calling!
Mr. Sayyed, hurry up. It's Jaggu's call from India.
Come on, hurry up! Everyone!
Sarfaraz Yousuf calls us from Lahore, every day at 9:00 a.m.
and with impeccable politeness, asks just one question.
"Did Jaggu call from India?"
We say "no," and he disconnects.
He's driven us crazy.
Wait. Let me connect you.
-Mr. Sarfaraz Yousuf? -Yes, speaking.
-Where are you? -In Lahore. Why?
-Where are you right now? -At home. Why?
Is there a chair or a bench nearby?
Please sit down. You're about to get a jolt.
Pardon me?
You have a call from Delhi.
Here, talk to her.
Sarfaraz.
Jaggu.
Hello, Jaggu, what's the matter?
Did you go to the Marriage Registrar's office?
I did, but you had left.
Why didn't you call?
How could I? I got your letter.
You had said, "don't contact me."
I knew you were under family pressure.
But deep down I knew, one day you would contact me.
What took you so long?
I am sorry. I had your wrong number.
I just got the right number from a friend.
Thank you, son.
Here, hold this.
Tipsy! You're taking batteries home?
-Don't get them there. -But why do you need so many batteries?
Back home, I'll listen to the sounds I've recorded.
What sounds?
The sounds of earth. Of the crows, the traffic, the honking.
Up there, you'll listen to cars honking?
Now and then... whenever I miss this planet.
Hey, wait! There's one more bag.
Forget it, Tipsy!
You kidding? It's stuffed with batteries.
Wait!
Driver, please stop!
Does everyone on your planet have stick-out ears?
And everyone roams around naked?
Why are you staring? Is there something on my face?
You know, I was in tenth grade...
when I wrote my first poem.
It was for Papa.
"They say my Mom I resemble. I say, possible."
Poetry means sparse words, soaring thoughts.
Pal, you're really cute.
Here's to the teetotaler called Tipsy.
Granted, I am poor...
No tape had the sounds of the crows or the traffic.
Every tape had just my voice.
MANDAWA.
Got it!
He sure made me run!
Tipsy, what's in these tapes?
I told you. The crows, the traffic.
Every night, when your planet rises, I'll play these tapes.
And wave at you. Like this.
Will you wave back, now and then?
Haven't you recorded my voice?
Your voice?
I think I have. That one poem you recited.
One poem? That's all?
I'm not exactly in love with you,
to waste all my time over you!
He didn't look back. Not once.
Perhaps, he was hiding his tears.
One thing he learnt from us. One thing he taught us.
He learnt how to lie...
and taught us how to love.
He came here naked, as children do.
Asked a lot of questions, as children do.
And then one day...
he went away.
Four billion miles away.
He left me two parting gifts.
Sarfaraz...
and Papa.
Till the time I am alive,
I'll look at his planet every night and wave.
I'm sure, he'll do the same.
Fellow astronauts, prepare to land on Earth.
Remember the four Earth Survival Commandments.
One, do not roam around naked.
Cuddling, making love, etcetera, must be done in closed rooms.
But fighting and making war is allowed in the open.
Two, beware of the language, it's confusing.
If Earthlings say, "I love chicken and fish."
It doesn't mean that they love animals,
but that those animals are on the lunch menu.
The gap between the thought and the speech is our topic of research.
Three, on landing, find dancing cars for clothes.
Hide your remotes deep in your underwear,
safe from thieves.
And four, the mother commandment.
If anyone says, "I'll connect you to God."
Dump the research, take a U-turn and run for your life.
Come, don't be afraid.
What are you goggling at?
-I have a question. -What?
On your last visit, how often were you whacked?
-What's this? -Self-defense!
Oh, I see. Safety gadgets?
-Let's go. -Not there! This way.
Kaput!