It's quite sad when society judges and ostracizes people based on its random criteria. You might be a great person, but you will be abhorred, shunned, taunted or even killed for being unable to fit into some crazy ideal the world has built for everyone. Usually, when religious, caste-based, language-related or even clothing-or-lack-thereof-based ostracism takes place, a lot of protest is heard from intellectual quarters. But these days a good person is being publicly humiliated, and I don't see anyone objecting. Some of the brightest brains in the country are, in fact, participating in the humiliation by repeating the taunts endlessly themselves!
Yes. So Pappu can't dance. What's so wrong about that?
Pappu has an MBA (that requires SOME brains), holidays in France (money AND taste!), plays the guitar (extra-curricular star, plus sensitive, music-loving man), Gucci perfume (metrosexual, probably has a feminine side), born with a silver spoon in his mouth, has a Papa who has great expectations of him (parents usually stop having false expectations of super-success when their kids turn 18, so this guy has something going for him), and is a yaaron ka yaar (a hit with his friends) and kudiyon mein kraze! Add to that his hot hot looks!
Most newspaper pullouts these days spend one ad-ridden page a day telling women how not to expect all the Pappu qualities in one man. Here is one man who defies the ad-ridden advice and is so close to perfection that it is mind-boggling. With those riches and that musical ear, he could join Shiamak Davar's classes and maybe even learn to dance for all you know! And hey, you think Mukesh Ambani or Sachin Tendulkar can dance? Come on! If Pappu does PT, then PT is the new dance!
And let me not get started about the losers who are ridiculing Pappu. One day, Aamir Uncle will drop you like a hot potato, Irfan, and you will soon be acting and dancing solely opposite ShivRajkumar, Genelia. Pappu and his poster-girl of a wife and their two chubby kids will not even cast a glance in the direction of the C-grade theatre where your latest shockbuster is playing, as they drive past in their BMW. Pappu, honey, you rock, naache tu ya naache na!