All language subtitles for Farzi.2023.S01E01.WEBRip.AMZN_

Hurry up, come on. Bring him in.

Boss has to go back today.

Move! Move!

-Sunny?
-Firoz?

-Sunny!
-Are you okay?

They fucked me up, man.

-Are you okay?
-I am.

-Did you do something?
-I didn't. Did you?

No! I was just watching some videos.

Be quiet. Someone is coming.

Mr. Artist.

Who made this?

To tell you the truth,

we printed the picture
of the most honest man on Earth

on the most dishonest object in the world.

What the fuck were we thinking?

Is this van Gogh yours?

Yes, sir.

I can hardly see a difference.
It's too good.

-Thank you, sir.
-How much for it?

6,000 rupees.

I could get the original for that.
Make me a deal.

I think it's worth 1,000 rupees.

It takes talent to make a true copy, sir.

It's an exact replica.

Come on. It's still a fake in the end.

If I hang it up,
will people think it's an original?

If you're worth a 100 crore painting
on your wall, then they will, sir.

My final offer is a thousand.
Take it or leave it.

People know shit about art.

Put a famous painter's signature on it
and everyone wants it, for a bargain.

So that's what I do.

Some specialize in landscapes,
some in portraits, some in still life,

some modern art, some make oil paintings,
or watercolors, or sketches.

I'm an expert in all of these.
I make copies of all of them.

I don't have any other choice.

If the painter isn't famous,
no one will buy it.

My grandfather is an amazing artist.
He's made quite a few originals.

He's great.

But he's not famous.

But he has something else
to fall back upon. His Kranti Magazine.

KRANTI MAGAZINE

He loves it more than anything,
even more than me.

Hey, Firoz! What's going on?

Grandpa is looking for you.

If he's not waking up, let him sleep.

Wake up! Take these over there.

Don't make him work so hard. He'll die.

Easy. You have all the time in the world.

The new copies are here. Right?

Did you manage to sell a painting?

This week's issue looks fantastic, uncle!

Sadly, only we like it. Look over there.
No one's buying magazines these days.

The scrap dealers are making a killing.

-Is Grandpa upstairs?
-Yes.

Listen. Please, take him home.

He makes us work for 15 hours.

Why do you complain so much?

Let him be.
Staying active at work keeps him healthy.

-Otherwise, he'd be bedridden.
-He won't, but we will.

Use sleeping pills if necessary,
but take him home!

-Like that's possible.
-Sunny...

Finish this, Sunny.

I don't know why,
but my hands are shaking today.

Did you read today's issue?

Yes. Superb, Grandpa.

Bullshit. You haven't even seen it.

Grandpa, I'm here with you every day.
I know what's written in here.

That's the problem with your generation.

You see a lot of things,
you hear a lot of things,

but you don't understand anything.

If we post these issues online,
at least the kids would have a look.

It's not even selling offline, Grandpa,
and you want an online edition.

We must awaken the masses, child.
I want to take Kranti to the people.

If not on paper,
then through any other means.

I can work around the clock.
I just wish someone would show me the way.

Here.

As they say, we can choose
our friends, but not our family.

Firoz is my friend.

But this shabby Kranti Magazine
from a bygone era, is my family.

No matter how much I hate it,
I'm stuck with it for life.

Grandpa started this magazine
to galvanize our society.

The staff here shares Grandpa's ideology.

-Did you get homework?
-Yes.

While others played after school,
like normal kids do,

we'd be out selling
the newest issues of Kranti.

And no one bought it.

Please, buy a copy!

Grandpa says Kranti will change the world.

But for that, people must read it first.

I don't think even the people who buy it
actually read it.

-Keep a watch outside.
-Go ahead.

We put all the money we saved
in his drawer.

He never figured out
where the money was coming from.

-Two Pepsis, please.
-No. Just one, please.

Are we saving money here too?

120 rupees, minus 5 rupees
for the soda, that's 115 rupees!

We need to find a way to make 500 a day.

-That's too much, make it a 100 rupees.
-Let's do 250.

-So, in how many days will we be...
-Millionaires?

No. Billionaires.

We'll be billionaires in 109.75 years.

Has anyone ever become rich by saving up?

As kids,
we spent all our time at the press.

I loved Grandpa's paintings,
and Firoz loved the machines at the press.

So, Grandpa taught me to paint,

and Uncle taught Firoz how to print.

Things got so rough one year,
that we had to survive on buns.

Dusk and dawn,
day and night, buns and buns.

All we had was buns.

Life had turned into a, "Bun-den."

Cut it!

At least this has tutti-frutti on it.

What had our lives become?
Nothing more than a bun.

Look at that! Worth 25,000 rupees.

No. At least 50,000.

Hey, look! That one's at least one lakh!

-75,000 rupees.
-20,000 rupees.

50,000 rupees.

That one's also one lakh.

One crore!

When you're broke,
the only thing you see is money.

How are you so pretty?

I guess you don't see my efforts.

-I'll take you there.
-Don't worry about it. It's too expensive.

You think I can't take you to that club?

What's up with you today?

Step out after five minutes, okay?

And leave the car keys on the tire.

Hey, you!
Bikes aren't allowed to park here.

Yes. I'm going.

-I'm leaving.
-Good. Beat it!

Sorry! I slipped.

What do you even see in her?
They're all the same!

A poor boyfriend is fine
but the husband must be rich.

They'll pet a mutt on the street,
but only buy a Shih Tzu.

You're good enough for a cuddle,
but she'll never let you into her circle.

You should try being nicer.
All you do is badmouth others.

She is my girlfriend.

Girlfriend? Only in a parking lot.

If she really thinks
of you as her boyfriend,

why haven't you met her friends yet?

No one but me
will tell you this bitter truth.

-And I'll tell you one more bitter truth.
-Tell me.

You only want to be with her
because she's out of your league.

You think I don't know you?

Listen.

Just let it go, man.

Stop wasting our money on an uptown babes.

We'll end up broke and she won't care.
Do you get it?

I promised her.

We'll earn back the money next year.
How expensive could it be?

-27,000 rupees.
-You don't need to translate it.

Wait a minute.

Sir, this venue hosts very lavish parties.

Listen, forget these gouged prices.
Can't you give us a discount?

Here's an idea. Get out of here,
buy some bottles of booze,

hang lights on a terrace,
play the music you like,

and party with friends of your own class.
It'll be fun. Now, out.

Kuldeep. Kuldeep Sharma.

How much do you make?

For the party tonight,

could you afford a ticket?

No, right?

At least we're trying.

Who are you to discuss class?

People wearing slippers are not allowed.

Leave, before I smack you with them.

Hey, fuck you!
I'll buy this hotel one day, got it?

-Idiot. Let's go.
-Throw them out!

-Come on!
-Kick them out!

Let's get out of here!

Do you feel good after that humiliation?
There goes our dignity!

Do we really look that poor?

Why are you wearing slippers?
Don't you have shoes?

-Sure. Blame my slippers.
-Yes.

Because rich people don't wear them!
When I'm rich, I'll dance here with these.

I'll show you too!

I'll be back.

Let's go over here.
These guys are just going crazy.

Play some good music.

Something peppy.

-Yeah, of course! You did. Club Velocity.
-Yes!

We couldn't get tickets.

That's odd. Why didn't you call me?
You should have...

Listen, can you chill for a bit?

If you want, we can go somewhere else.

-Is that Nikhil?
-I asked him to pick me up.

-What a car!
-It's a bimmer.

Bro, that's not a beemer, it's an Q7 Audi.

It's worth one crore, bro.

-Yes.
-That's right, bro.

-Should I walk you downstairs?
-No, don't worry.

For the next three months,
if you rip off Picasso, van Gogh,

da Vinci, their cousins, friends,
step brothers and sold those paintings,

you'd make just enough
to attend that party.

What's the point?

The party would be over by then.

-Life...
-Not another life lecture, please!

Whenever you start talking like that
it gets depressing. Stop it.

But it's true.

Respect... is beyond the reach
of middle-class people like us.

We can't afford any respect.

We pay taxes, make small savings,

manage expenses with credit cards,

take out loans, then take out another loan
to pay off the first one.

We spend most of our lives
paying off loans.

First, to become employable,
an education loan.

If you land a job,
to travel to work, a bike loan.

If you get promoted, a car loan.

Then, the most fucked up loan. Guess.

Which loan?

A wedding loan.
Marriages don't last, but installments do.

Then the biggest one of all, a home loan,

where you end up
on the streets trying to pay it.

Then the fucking kids.

Their education loans,
this loan, that loan,

you get a heart attack paying them
and your life is over.

Then insurance agents come in
and tell the widow,

"Ma'am, you defaulted
on a payment seven years ago,

"so you won't get the payout."

Insurance cancelled! Fucking hell.

That's why the babies are born crying.
They know they're gonna get screwed!

We're the fucking majority.

But no one gives a fuck about us.

We're not middle class,

-we're middle finger class.
-What?

Two, one... Happy new year, motherfuckers!

Happy new year, bro.

We survived another year.

Just a few more years of struggle.

I had helped you back then,
so I thought...

It's all right. I hear what you're saying,
but I wanted to give it a shot anyway.

Why isn't anyone working, Grandpa?

-Uncle Yasir?
-The recovery guys showed up.

-Ratanlal?
-Ratanlal and his son too.

-What did they want?
-Full payment, in a month.

We're doomed.

Hello. Can I talk to the boss, please?

Him too?

Did you see that?
He's calling everybody who owes us money.

Half of them are dead,
the other half were so desperate,

they had to borrow from us.

They were in need, so I helped them.