I would have been better disposed towards the film if it had released in the theatre across my house. Ah, the luxury of walking out of my gate and entering the cinema hall. Catching the after-dinner show, and walking back home late at night.

As it is, I have to take a rickshaw on a hot afternoon. The old rickshaw-wala looks right, left, back and front before each negotiation of one metre. If that isn't enough to make me grumpy, the woman on the ticket counter asks me for 200/- rupees for a ticket. For an afternoon show, that is even more expensive than the fancy multiplex at the big mall. She looks pleased as I reluctantly hand over the money.

I decide I do not like the smell in the auditorium. The people around me are too talkative. The popcorn is stale. And the music they are playing before the show is from Chandni Chowk to China, just a noisy racket from a best-forgotten past. But when the theater darkens, it darkens, and there's that little surge of anticipation. The film, a film, any film is beginning.

All excitement is quickly dispelled when Ray (Neil Nitin Mukesh) talks lovingly to the pigeon who visits his window sill everyday, and even feeds it. Henceforth, I have no sympathy for Ray. The foolish man also leaves his windows wide open when he goes out, for Ms. Pigeon and her boyfriend to frolic around in his absence. Who the hell is going to clean up the pigeon shit? Miraculously, there is none. Nor those annoying little feather tufts. Nor a discernible smell. If there is a smell and Ray is scrunching up his nose in disgust, it is lost on me because of his perpetual frown.

The pigeon episode doesn't let me watch the film for a few minutes because pigeons make me so mad. But then, the onerous responsibility of writing this review makes me banish pigeons from my mind. I stick mental needles through my eyelids to keep them open.

It's hard going though. Who do I blame? That lunch? The air-conditioning after that heat outside that prompts me to take a nap? The inane dialogue? Some more noisy racket music (Pritam) that I seem to have heard too many times before? The cut, flash, cut, jump, zoom, cut, flash, cut that exhausts my eyes? The pale, pale skin of Neil Mukesh that makes me yawn? Bipasha Basu's skimpy clothes that make her look like the girl-next-door, oh yeah, duh? Or the boring looking camera that sees the future, but takes extremely boring photos?

What does keep me awake are the plot-holes. Like the old man who drove me oh-so carefully to the theatre, negotiating each and every pothole, I look right, left, back, front and gingerly jump over each plot-hole. My suspenders of disbelief give up after some time.

I keep myself busy by asking: Why did Khosla Uncle not open the envelope himself and find the camera even before Ray turned up at his grandfather's (Biswajeet) house? Why did Ray trust Captain (Rahul Dev) who killed the man who employed him? Does the Indian government really deploy hot and sexy babes (Sophie Choudry) as RAW agents? When Ray is going to die, why does he still want to keep the camera and put his girlfriend's life at risk? How come the camera starts with recording only a day in advance and then goes on to recording 5-6 days in advance? How does the temple in Kerala look the same as the temple in Bangkok? Why do the goons in Bangkok demand a song and dance from Simi (Bipasha)? Ah, they are Bollywood fans.

Anyway, you don't really want to know. I may have given this a TP tick mark (Time Pass) if it were not for that hot sun, that rickshaw ride, that 200/- ticket and that terrible popcorn. As it is, I wish I had taken that afternoon nap.