Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye!

Dibakar Banerjee's second, after his Khosla Ka Ghosla, is as Delhi as his first, and as sharply written. Lucky, product of a lowincome Delhi clony, does things a boy his age does: hang out with his pals, make eyes at a pretty girl next door, leap from one roof to another (festooned with antennas, rather than satellite dishes) in order to escape from his wrathful father.

Lucky's (Abhay) journey from petty criminal to cool super chor is a lark, but Banerji tells it with a sting. It's not all fun and games; it's also shame and pain.

Lucky's lad-hood is spot-on: the antipathy between the son and the father (Paresh, in the first of his three roles), the halfresentful half-lustful air of the other woman his father has supplanted his mother with (tere ko scooter chahiye na beta, mujhe bol, she simpers, folding a mountainous bra from a pile of clothes she's picked off the line: this could well be the global story of a million boys' first intro duction to the all-powerful, all-mysterious mammaries, but that kind of printed salwaar kameez, that sort of cleavage, and that manner of bra-brandishing can only belong to a Dilli ki auntyji ). Lucky's mantra— `kyon, nahin kar sakta kya'-which starts out as a dare, becomes the cornerstone of his life, which includes a `bachpan ka dost' and partner-in-crime ( Manu Rishi), a `seedhi saadhi' girl-friend (Neetu) who keeps him grounded, and Gogi bhai (Paresh again), who's perhaps the best drawn character in this film teeming with them-said Bhai is a stage entertainer-cum-chief sucker up of a minister's `bigda hua beta'-cum banquet hall owner-cum prime fence and fixer: you can't be more Dilli than that.