Sometimes we just let things go despite of our heavy ambitions, and believe that it was "God" who intervened in between to make it happen it that way. And in most of the cases, it's just the cause-effect theory taking place: some random events become reason for happening of the other. That's how two of the three stories in this film, the one of Londoner David (1975-1999) and the David in Mumbai (1999), find their connect. While the other David is in Goa, 2010.
Though direct existence of God is out of question in these cases, you'll find someone as God's "messenger" midway either to boost one's ambition (the journalist-like guy who encourages Mumbaiite David to fight against the political leader who had accused his priest father as an anti-Hindu and a proselyte) or to balm one's heart-break (the fourth David of the film- a priest in Goa, or the spirit of Goan David's dad who can make himself feel present by entering into anyone's body and rub his/her ears). And it's just the fortune. Interestingly, one goon in Mumbai tells our hero how Gods and religions are just used by politicians to market themselves among the public, comparing it to the brands of underwear.
These characters are written so indulgently that we expect them to aboard on an introspective journey, but they become ignorant due to their underdeveloped stories and sub-plots, leaving us to crave for the real meat.
David (Neil Nitin) is a loyal right-hand to the head of the Muslim gangster feud based in London, Ghani, who is very father-like to him. Ghani's actual son is a junky Joseph who is forcefully married to David's love Noor (Monica Dogra). This portion has enough substance in the form of well etched characters (like that of Milind Soman) and some Tarantinosque action scenes that it can be treated as a single film.
Whereas the story set in Mumbai leads a struggling young musician (Vinay Virmani) who differs with his father but finds solace with his night-shift working sister and a widow mother Neelam (Lara Dutta) whom he teaches guitar. This is perfect material for a coming-of-age story but is sidetracked with a forced-in plot of revenge.
The other David in Goa (Cheeyan Vikram) finds joy in punching newlywed brides in their face masquerading as "Satku Santa" since he is ditched by her ex-wife; he shares his secrets with a massage parlour owner Frenny (Tabu) who is jailed thrice for her profession. This entertaining track is driven safely unless you are convinced with the character of Saurabh Shukla as David's dead father.
Detailing to the characters could have been done far better with their eras and locations attributed to them rather than the silly make-ups on the actors and their look: the retro gangster is too glossy to be believable; the musician who is fighting for his father's respect is seen with bleeding bruises pictured on his face forever; the drunkard lover is always with a small bottle of alcohol either in his pocket or in his rolled sleeves. Though Vikram looks aptly animated on his part, Neil Nitin is singularly expressive, mostly angry, and Virmani ranges anything between a stony look and over-animated.
Stories set in Mumbai and Goa are fairly similar in their treatment, both of them shot majorly from the POV of the protagonists, and some parallel lines could be drawn too. But the one set in London, shot elaborately in greyscale, lacks the subtlety unlike the other ones and is so non-cohesive with the rest that it seems to be a filler, and even its connect with Mumbai looks very laborious. Director Bejoy Nambiar has done away with this London based one in the Tamil version of the film. May be we should watch that one. But I'm convinced with the film's message that we should just let some things go. So I'll do that.