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There is a long face in the crowd. But we must not look. He will learn.

He will stumble and scrape his knees. He's not understanding what purpose does he serve. But when he looks around he sees the crowd. He looks at every person and he knows what purpose they serve. So he learns.

But one day somebody walks along and remarks how he isn't what he's trying to be.

"No, shit," he says in reply and starts weeping. He knew this was a silly facade. He knew the cover is blown. He is exposed for what he is. But now he doesn't know how to operate.

What face does he pull? He wants to be angry, but that's not the right way. He wants to lie down and sleep, but then he'll be disqualified from the race. He wants to destroy things, but things are hard to replace.

He wants to stay in the mess, but it has become such a mess. He wants to walk away from the mess, but he had such a tough time getting in. He breaks down. He is not in control anymore.

The drama his life has become is a story. The story is not of love, but it is love that cuts through his life. There is no statement about his story that isn't followed by an opposite word. If one reads him again, they'll see how uncertain he is.

A still from Tamasha.
This story is captured and labelled Tamasha. There are moments when you want to laugh with him, but, yet again another but, he also makes you push your knuckles in your mouth.

There is a complexity in the simple comedy he seems to be performing on screen. The audience is laughing, but somewhere inside they know what's happening.

The viewer is satisfied he spent his money well and he goes back to his life when the film ends. He wants to ignore what he has seen. He wants to forget. He has learned what he is supposed to years ago, and he doesn't want to unlearn.

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