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Chalte Chalte yunhi koi mil gaya tha, yunhi koi (while walking, while venturing along, I met someone and my life has stood still ever since) … that classic duet from the 1972 movie Pakeezah provides one of the stand-out scenes in this film, reflecting as it does on the nature of relation- ships.

It’s just one of many scenes that stick in the mem- ory, which is ironic considering that this is a movie about the debilitating effects of memory loss.

Before I forget, allow me to recall some others. Like the exchange between the sexes when one of the guys boldly remarks that “Indian women are like cheap liquor, always losing control”. Back comes the magni- ficent riposte by his other half that an Indian man is like a mouse, “always looking for a hole”!

Then there is the harrowing sequence of events in which Kajol is absorbed by a gecko hunting for its evening meal while her baby lies in a bathtub that is rapidly filling up.

Or the moment she returns Ajay Devgan’s beloved pocket watch and quips, “Your bad times are over now.”

Or the gyrating, gravity-defying body movements as a colourful salsa dance is staged on the high seas.

Or the scene played out in front of a mirror, with Kajol rearranging the flowers and Devgan attempting to rearrange their lives.

Or the sequence in which a clearly distressed Kajol pats her tummy and informs her hubby that she’s decided to abort the child, just days after the baby has been delivered, as her memory degenerates.

Or the most revealing scene of the lot when a drunk Devgan makes a heartfelt speech about why relation- ships are destined to fail.

If it sounds like I’m gushing, it’s because memorable scenes abound in Devgan’s first film as a director. And as debuts go, it’s mighty impressive.

“Sensitive” and “funny” aren’t epithets one would normally associate with him, but both are in ample evidence. And while the plot is entirely unoriginal (if you’ve seen The Notebook and 50 First Dates, that much is obvious), it’s still beautifully executed.

The first thing that crossed my mind when I watch- ed The Notebook, a movie about a young Alzheimer’s victim, was that it would make for a great Bollywood film, and Devgan makes sure that it does.

He plays Ajay, a psychiatrist who falls for a young waitress while holidaying on an ocean liner. It’s a situ- ation that causes much amusement to the two other couples in his party, whose own relationships are a source of either pity or amusement.

The relationship between Ajay and Piya (Kajol) starts with a lie after he stumbles upon her diary and uses its contents to make it seem as if the things that are important to her are just as important to him. From that point onwards, the relationship is as tumul- tuous as they come, at times reaching ecstatic heights with them feeling that no two people could ever be happier, before plumbing the depths of despair as ill- ness puts them through a gruelling test.

That is how the movie unfolds: light and fluffy to start with, but demanding and soul-searching after the interval. It’s a story that begs for great perform- ances, and they come thick and fast. Kajol is magical, Devgan is magnificent and, together, they’ve never been better.

He starts out as suave and cocksure, only to become increasingly desperate. She starts out as confident and fiercely independent, only to realise that life has the capacity to intensely humble anyone it chooses. Expect best-actor nominations for both of them.

Their friends, played by Divya Dutta, Isha Sharvani, Sumeet Raghavan and Karan Khanna, who make up the supporting cast, are wonderful, totally normal, yet completely believable.

That’s one of the movie’s other strengths: it’s as showy as it should be, with glorious cinematography, lavish sets and eye-bulging locations, but the perform- ances, by contrast, are restrained and entirely believ- able.

That Devgan achieves this balance in his first film as a director is remarkable.

He applies some novel touches. The baby-in-the- bath scene, for instance, is played back to front; Ka- jol’s first sign of illness is introduced suddenly, with- out elaborate explanation, unlike the opening sequence, which is overly elaborate and way too long. Note, too, the change in background as the proceed- ings go from frivolous to serious.

But Devgan’s most outstanding achievement is to provide a notable graph: a starting point and an end point; character growth coupled with story develop- ment; and some wonderful screenplay in between. That’s perfectly unusual in Bollywood!

Overall, it’s a noteworthy debut and a captivating film. Devgan just continues to grow in my estimation.