Shubh Mukherjee, I gather from news reports, once narrated an incident to producer Hrishita Bhatt who thought it so charming that she felt a burning urge to share it with the world by putting it on the silver screen.
Howsoever that story went, Shakal Pe Mat Ja goes like this: In Delhi, four losers — all boys, obviously — want to do something that will put ants up everybody’s pants.

But smarty pants Ankit (Shubh Mukherjee), his little brother Dhruv (the delightful Pratik Katare who is completely wasted here), one accented and flatulent American Rohan (Chitrak Bandopadyay), and a nail-rubbing, long-haired nincompoop Bulai (Harsh Parekh), have no money, no bright ideas and no talent whatsoever. So they decide to make a documentary film, something about hopeless security at high-risk terror targets, i.e. the international airport.
We come to this piece of detail after a comical scene about an award ceremony for terrorists. This is the stuff Rohan dreams of, receiving the Most Khatarnak Terrorist award, beating Osama. When Rohan is rudely shaken out of his fantasy (to put a stop to the offensive motion of his hand), we realise that the four boys are being detained at the airport for questioning — they were found loitering near runway No. 4 and clicking photographs of a plane, all without permission.
The cops interrogating them, led by Raghuveer Yadav, are short-tempered morons who can’t tell a kid’s school project from a ticking bomb. Naturally, the four boys don’t take them seriously and continue to joke about the bomb in Rohan’s bulging stomach, which immediately takes offense and starts letting out lethal gasses rather loudly.  
Rohan’s eclectic collection and knowledge of porn is flaunted repeatedly to keep the audience in naughty spirits. The dreary foil to roly-poly Rohan is anorexic Bulai, a kapal-bhati fanatic who, it seems, has exhaled all his brain cells, one breath at a time.
Moron cops can’t handle these four boys, so they call the anti-terrorist squad and Saurabh Shukla waddles in. This guy has flashes of common sense but soon lapses into moron behaviour. Incidentally, his wife’s name is Savita, and Rohan’s fascination for Savita Bhabhi leads to some ha-ha moments.
While cops are harassing the four boys, a real bomb, entrusted to an incredibly incompetent gang of scruffy, sulking terrorists, enters the airport, along with the pretty Aamna Shariff. The man controlling this real terror attack is one bearded fellow in a cave who plays with a toy plane, calls himself Mama-O-Mama, and talks into a satellite phone in code: hakuba, shakura, marhaba...
One terrorist get arrested, but he commits suicide, his dead finger pointing at the four boys. The boys are now officially under arrest, so they escape easily. Soon, everybody is running around at the international airport, carrying guns and talking into walkie-talkies, and yet, the boys can’t find each other, the cops can’t find the boys or the terrorists, and the terrorists can’t find the bomb. To add to this nonsense, too many red bags with unsavoury undergarments are flung about till, finally, the bomb decides that it is fully fed up and must go off.

Shakal Pe Mat Ja is a dim copy of Tere Bin Laden. It uses everything in the chutkule book to make us laugh: pornographic talk, farts, an angry Sardarji, even sprinkling su-su on an innocent pisser. It has a few funny dialogue and scenes, and some quirky ideas and editing cuts. The background cackle, meant to underline funny moments, is cute. Though Shakal... did manage to get three giggles out of me, that’s nothing compared to the fatigue I felt at having to suffer half-baked characters blather on and on just because the camera is trained on them.
Though Shakal... has a competent supporting cast, the comedy is mostly off-key because of the inept screenplay and insufferably wordy dialogue. Characters appear out of nowhere and lead to neither mirth nor sanity. Yet, Raghuveer Yadav manages to stand out, though he did seem awfully irritated. Saurabh Shukla has lost his mojo, but anyone still thinking of casting him must do so quickly, before his head completely sinks into his body.
Shalak Pe Mat Ja is clearly an amateur effort and in today’s Bollywood where big production houses spend a hundred-crore on equally idiotic stories, this clumsy, unpasteurised attempt is mildly endearing. But it should not have been put out in cinemas.
Shakal Pe Mat Ja  means "Don’t go by the looks". I’ll just say, don’t go.