Veteran ghazal singer and actor Talat Aziz lost treasured possessions, paintings, musical instruments and other belongings in a fire that broke out at his home on October 2. The blaze gutted the ground floor and parts of the first floor, leaving Aziz and his family hospitalised and facing significant losses.

Now staying at a friend’s apartment, Aziz says the family has begun restoration work and hopes to return home early next year. “Restoration has already begun. Hopefully, by January or February, we hope to move back into our own home. The family has been coping bravely. My wife, Bina Aziz, is a very strong person, and both my sons have also been strong,” he says.

While the loss of paintings and musical instruments has been heartbreaking, the 69-year-old says the family is learning to move on.

“They had a lot of sentimental as well as monetary value, but we have come to terms with it. One has to get on with life, and we are grateful to God that we escaped without any injuries. That is crucial,” says Aziz who played actor Hrithik Roshan’s father in the 2024 film Fighter.

The outpouring of support from well-wishers has also been a source of comfort. “We have received thousands of messages of support from all over the world, as well as from Mumbai and across India. I can never thank people enough. Maybe this was a reset button in our lives for the better. We have faith in the Almighty,” he ends.

Sunday evenings, for years, have meant only one thing to the All Stars Football Club (ASFC) — hours of football practice at the Jamnabai Narsee School playground in Juhu. But their weekly ritual was cancelled on October 25, in light of the October 18 attack on actor Tiger Shroff that took place outside the ground. Bunty Walia, who owns the ASFC, has called off all training sessions until further notice. We have heard that they will resume only after necessary security arrangements have been put in place.

A source from the ASFC told mid-day that the shooting attempt on Shroff — where reportedly five to seven bullets were fired at the actor’s car by two men on a motorbike — has left the team shaken.

The source said, “The October 25 practice match was cancelled by Bunty Walia. He is clear that till a security plan is put in place, he won’t announce the next match. Many actors are part of the ASFC, including Abhishek Bachchan, Kartik Aaryan, and Ranbir Kapoor. Everyone’s safety is top priority.”

When mid-day contacted Walia, he confirmed that the practice session was cancelled in the aftermath of the attack. The case is currently being investigated by the Mumbai Crime Branch.

“We are not sure about the next practice session. We’ll need to discuss with the police as to how to go forward. We cannot resume till we put the necessary safety norms in place,” said Walia.

As part of the safety measures, going forward, the ASFC may keep its training sessions away from the paparazzi’s lens. It is heard that the club will keep the dates and venues under wraps so as to not attract attention.

Finding the next generation of artistes is perhaps among the best ways a musician can give back to the world of music. Singer Benny Dayal hopes to do that as he takes the judge’s seat on Tamil Idol. In a chat with mid-day, the artiste talks about finding true potential, the importance of performance in artistry, and why AI cannot match genuine talent. Excerpts from the interview.

I am looking for honesty, innocence, and, of course, an X factor that cannot be taught or replicated. There should be something unique about the way they approach music. You can learn techniques and acquire skills, but there is a certain quality that makes an artiste who they are. 

There are people who find a platform through social media and become playback singers, while others write their own music and become popular through these platforms. It has an upside and a downside. Sometimes, music becomes short-lived because of the hustle and hurry of social media. At the same time, there are artistes who are becoming the faces of their own music. That’s brilliant. Ten or 12 years ago, singers were primarily known as playback singers, rather than as artistes with their own identities. 

As far as AI is used as a toy, it is fine. But if I write music with the help of AI, it’s an insult to artistes who have spent years learning music. It’s like a slap on their face. I’m not a big fan of AI tools, but I’m not excessively worried either. I also wonder whether there is something called technical perfection in music [that they try to achieve through AI]. In music, technique matters, but emotion will always be more important. Music should be used to express, not just impress. 

Musicians should always be entertainers, rather than simply singing and calling it a day. Artistry involves performance, and that is the litmus test of any art form. It is an opportunity to bring your music alive and connect with people beyond the recording.

If you get an opportunity to try something, why not give it a shot? But you should not make these opportunities your priority at the expense of your music. It is important to create music that you genuinely love. If you focus on that, everything else will follow. 

For an artiste, art should also be a responsibility. To fulfil that responsibility, they have to be consistent. That means putting in the effort, reinventing themselves, and constantly renewing their approach to music. They must keep revisiting the works of great musicians, relearning, and finding wonderful new things to do with their music.

Lalit Prabhakar knew he had the chance to do something unique when he was asked to audition for the role of 26/11 Mumbai attacks terrorist Ajmal Kasab for Prahaar, led by Rajkummar Rao. While two takes were all it took for director Avinash Arun to know that he had found his Kasab, becoming the on-screen terrorist was a longer journey for the actor.

Breaking down his prep, Prabhakar said, “I spent time with Avinash sir as he expressed his approach towards the character, how he wanted to humanize it, and didn’t want to [adopt] the melodramatic, filmy style. He believed Kasab’s psyche should be our focus. What exactly does it mean to be brainwashed? If a person has killed so many people and is ready to die, how would his eyes and expressions be?”

The actor, who is winning praise for his act in Prahaar, also read the book, 26/11 Kasab Ani Me, by Ramesh Mahale, the chief investigating officer of the attacks.

Prabhakar added, “There’s only one video of Kasab available on YouTube. That’s all I could watch. I studied his two-three photos that are in public domain. The main task was [perfecting] the dialect and tone.”

Ever caught yourself doomscrolling, hopping from one Reel to another, only to emerge more overwhelmed than entertained? Blame the algorithm, perhaps, but content creator Khushaal Pawaar (@khushaal_pawaar on Instagram) wants you to look at the bigger picture. Known for weaving social and political commentary into his character-driven comedy, Pawaar uses the very medium that keeps us glued to our screens to hold up a mirror to society.

Having started out during the lockdown, he has built an audience while navigating the commercial pressures and ethical dilemmas of the creator economy. Now, the former casting associate on Kabir Singh (2019) and casting director on Animal (2023) is looking beyond short-form content, with ambitions to establish himself as an actor and storyteller. His latest short film, The Vijay Theory, is about information overload and is now available to watch on his YouTube channel.

“I had this interest in performing arts since my childhood. I was doing theatre before this, and I also had some radio background. I was always writing stuff for bands or creating jingles and all that. During lockdown, I had free time and no acting projects, so I thought I would try it [content creation]. That is how the journey started,” he says.

While social media offers creators the possibility of turning a hobby into a career, Pawaar points out that the business has become increasingly challenging. “In the last one-and-a-half to two years, it has become tough for content creators to get brand collaborations. You have to be careful about what you put out and how far you are willing to go. Sometimes you go three or four months without brands. You have to think about your morals, but you also have to run your house.”

That balancing act becomes particularly complicated when the money comes with questions about what a creator is willing to endorse. “I have not done betting app promotions on my page. Even if I have acted for them, I have made sure I don’t post it directly on my page. There is a line you have to draw. I will not do paan masala,” he explains.

Pawaar’s approach to content is also shaped by his background in theatre and radio, where storytelling is central to the craft. “I try to make family content that people across India can understand. I don’t want to make it too high-fi; I want to reach the masses. It is rare that I go edgy with my writing. I try to ensure that every Reel has a little story or a character arc,” he says.

For Pawaar, social media is also a means of financing the projects he wants to pursue as an actor. Despite his experience in casting, the roles he hopes to play have not always come his way, prompting him to create his own opportunities. 

One such project is his short film, Vijay, which examines how the abundance of information and opinions online can leave people struggling to make decisions. The film draws on the anxieties familiar to young people who find themselves comparing their lives with what they see on social media.

“The film is about how we are flooded with information and so many opinions. Even if you want to buy something or decide to do something, there are so many options, and every option is trying to get your attention. It is difficult to choose a career, start over, or pick a path and walk on it confidently. It also talks about mental health issues. A lot of beginners and students procrastinate and hesitate. You see so many people on social media and feel that you want to do something too, but you don’t know where to start,” he says.

The response to the film has been encouraging, particularly when viewers tell him that it has prompted them to act on something they had been putting off. Pawaar hopes to make it available to a wider audience, while exploring a festival run and the possibility of expanding the story.

“I wanted to share it with the young audience of India and make it available for free. I recently got a message from a guy who said that after watching my film, he took one step forward and was meeting an investor that day. He had been procrastinating, but he emailed and set up a call. That was a surreal moment for me.”

For Pawaar, the larger ambition is to move from creating content for screens to making cinema that draws audiences into theatres.

“In the next five years, I want to be doing a lot of cinema, making films that people buy tickets to watch, or presenting or doing a show on an OTT platform. My goal is to grow as an actor and, especially, as a storyteller.”

Shefali Shah doesn’t always have it together, even if her towering public persona suggests otherwise. Both, the women she has played on screen and the woman the public has known through the filter of media, have contributed to this image of someone who can never fall apart. Shah is serious, solid, and sure-footed, until she lets one in her mind through her “sort-of-memoir”, The Audacity Of Being.

The Shefali Shah that one meets is a revelation. She is chaotic, impulsive, funny, and like any woman, has a million moments of self-doubt. “I think people wonder, ‘Isko toh kabhi koi problem nahi hoti hogi. She is always in control’,” the actor tells Sunday mid-day.

The point of a memoir is to be honest, but revelations about the self come with risk, especially for a public figure. “It was a risk, until I made the decision. Once I knew I was writing this, there was no other way of telling it besides honestly. And that’s me in everything I do,” she says.

The book that marks Shah’s debut as an author makes one thing clear: You can’t make Shefali Shah do anything. So, while the decision to write a memoir didn’t come from her, it felt like the right thing to do in the pursuit of her bigger goal, sharing the volume of stories living inside her with the world.

“I wanted to actually publish my novella, which is a fictional story. But my publishers thought that my first book had to be a memoir or a biography. I was not very convinced... And that’s exactly why it’s a sort-of-memoir, because it’s not like ‘this happened, then I was born here’. Now, when I look back, it was a good place to start because it’s my story. I can say what I want to. And no one’s going to sue me,” she laughs.

Writing a memoir inevitably involves revisiting unpleasant memories. One such memory in Shah’s book involves her school days. She shares she was bullied by her classmates, even as her mother didn’t allow her to make friends. The actor corrects us, though.

“It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, I could revisit it in much more clarity because I was glimpsing it from outside. I was, however, sceptical because talking about it could hurt my parents. It’s very easy to blame your mother when you are growing up. But as I grew older, and particularly when I became a mother, I realized they did the best they could. Writing about that wasn’t even emotional. It was all just coming out; there was no feeling of ‘Oh My God! Why did this happen?’ Ho gaya na. Fine, move on.”

With clarity, has she gotten the answer to why she was subjected to bullying in school? “Maybe they thought I was very LS [‘low standards’]. So, the school I went to is very prestigious; rich people sent their children there. My parents weren’t rich. I was ashamed of my tiffin because I didn’t know if the thepla or roti-sabzi in it was going to be judged. My peers could pick up a bread roll from the canteen; I could not,” she says.

“Maybe [it was] because I was too dark or because I had two oily plaits. Maybe because I wasn’t a cool kid. I really don’t know what it was, but, now when I look back, it’s on them, not me,” she adds.

This became her mantra for life. Come what may, Shah wasn’t ready to fit in, especially when she experienced freedom for the first time through performance arts. Part after part, she built a rare career for a woman actor in the Indian film industry that featured fully-realised women with their quirks, flaws, dreams, and desires. For someone, who claims in the book and to us in person that she is not ambitious, a rich career of over three decades is no less than a feat.

“Just after Monsoon Wedding (2001), I got married and was pregnant with my first child. At that point of time I wasn’t even thinking of my career. I just wanted to have babies and take care of them. And that’s exactly what I did. After my second child, I felt ready to come back,” she recalls.

Then, she did Waqt [The Race Against Time (2005)], “where I played a mother and cut all my chances of playing anything my age”. “I was ready to work but I didn’t get anything that was exciting enough. But I never had a drive or an ambition to pitch myself to a director because I don’t think I am an ambitious person. It is so stupid. How are you expecting people to know you exist? I mean people didn’t even know if I was alive or dead,” she laughs.

In 2019, Shah struck gold with filmmaker Richie Mehta’s crime thriller Delhi Crime. Even if unintentionally, Shah also managed to challenge the one thing that’s often weaponized against female stars in the movies: time. Here was a 45-year-old leading woman of a blockbuster series. The success of which led her to six projects across theatres and OTT, making her one of the busiest female actors in Bollywood.

“If I was told years before I did DC, ‘You would be headlining a project in your 40s,’ I would have laughed the loudest. I was at the right place at the right time. It depended on a lot of choices I made earlier. So many actors, who work in television, get typecast. Had I been probably doing television, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. I did Juice [2017], which worked almost like my showreel. I thought, ‘Yes, you can rule at 40.’ I got six projects after DC. I thought to myself, ‘I have arrived’. The next year, I was back to feeling, ‘Okay what is happening?” she laughs.

At 53, time feels like sand slipping through her hand. “I wish DC had happened earlier,” she tells us, “Because then I would have had a longer run and done many films and played so many parts.”

But Shah has a plan. “I’m probably at my thinnest right now and I like the way I look. I’ve also cut off age, because when you’re thinner you probably look younger. And I mean thinner in a good way, not like when you’re dilapidated. There’s only so much work that will come for a 52-53 year old and it will be in the same bracket, but if I look like I’m in my 40s, I still have another couple of years,” she says.

Plans are afoot to restore and revamp Fort’s historic Capitol Cinema that opened in 1879, but tenanted shop-owners and hawkers who have carried out their trade on the building’s ground floor or around it for decades are complaining of being squeezed out of their spaces for the redevelopment.

The Mumbai Heritage Conservation Committee (MHCC) has given its thumbs-up to the revival plan, which will see the heritage structure house a 210-seat single-screen cinema spread across 264 sq m, apart from a commercial retail space of 316 sq m.

The ball to restore the structure was set in motion after the parent firm of the cinema, Nadir Company Private Limited, was bought over by real estate major K Raheja. Mirror was the first to report on the takeover on January 21. Capitol has been shut since 2007, according to sources.

“The Capitol Cinema building is a Grade II-B heritage structure. We received an application from K Raheja for the proposed conservation, restoration, additions and adaptive reuse of the theatre, for which we have granted permission. They are planning to use the existing structure for both commercial retail and a single-screen cinema with a proposed seating capacity of 210,” a senior civic official told Mumbai Mirror.

He added that as part of the renovation, the single-screen theatre’s entrance will shift to the rear of the heritage structure, with the auditorium layout being reconfigured from the back. “So, the front portion of Capitol Cinema will be reserved for commercial retail spaces, while the rear section will house the theatre,” he added.

The approval, however, comes with a string of strict heritage safeguards, said the civic sources. “Rooftop service structures must be kept as low as possible, while all original features, including window grids, roof patterns and historic flooring, must be retained or restored under expert supervision and in accordance with conservation norms. Box grills on windows and air-conditioning units on the front façade are prohibited,” said the source.

The MHCC’s NOC covers heritage-related aspects only, with ownership, structural stability, FSI, setbacks and parking still requiring clearance from the BMC’s Building Proposal Department under prevailing DCPR rules, reads the civic document.

According to the civic document, the approval is valid for two years and must be revalidated if work has not commenced or a Commencement Certificate (CC) has not been obtained within that period. An MHCC Completion Certificate will also be mandatory once the work is completed.

On the thorny issue of the existing tenants, the civic official said: “I am not sure whether the existing shopline tenants will be retained or asked to vacate, as that decision rests solely with the owner.”

Most of the tenants at Capitol are unaware if they will be retained or asked to vacate. Mirror spoke to many of them and confirmed that since the ownership change, no one has approached them for rent. “Earlier the owner would ask us for the rent and we would pay by cheque, but after the ownership transfer, no one is asking us for rent. We do not know if we will be evicted or asked to stay. But if we are asked to vacate, we will demand space for the space given up,” said a shop owner, who has been operating for the last eight decades.

A newspaper vendor, Ajay Prajapati, alleged that the owner is not directly engaged with the tenants or sub-tenants or vendors, “instead, they are provoking civic officials to throw out vendors and sub-tenants from the premises,” he told Mirror.

“I’ve been running a newspaper stall for the last 50 years and I have all valid BMC permissions. But after the Capitol Cinema structure has been covered in green net, I was thrown out of the premises and they are deployed bouncers. I was not even a tenant, but sold newspapers on the footpath for five decades, but the civic authority evicted me despite having QR code, which validates I am a genuine vendor in the area. Where should I go to seek justice? How will I run my house?” wondered Prajapati.

Deepak Chourasia, a paanwala-turned-juice seller, has also been removed. “I’m living hand-to-mouth and finding it difficult to pay my children’s school fees. In the name renovation, the owner has encroached upon the footpath. The pedestrians are forced to walk on the busy road. But BMC will never crack down on builders. We, the poor vendors, will be reminded of rules and regulations,” Chourasia said.

Abdul Gaffar Shaikh, the owner of World Stamp and Coin House and a sub-tenant of the structure, said that he has been forcefully evicted. “This shop has been run by my family for the past 80 years, but the civic officials evicted me. Now, the green net is blocking my shop. I have written to the authorities to seek their intervention, but everyone is just a spectator,” Shaikh told Mumbai Mirror.

The green net has also covered Blue Moon Watch at the corner of the building. “It’s been hampering my business. I had to fight with them to allow my shop to be visible to customers. This is ridiculous,” said Noor Mohammad, the staff at Blue Moon Watch.

“We are committed to restoring this historic building into a landmark Mumbai will be proud of, with all works carried out as per law and after securing approvals from the relevant authorities. Restoration works will commence shortly, and all necessary measures have been taken to ensure public safety. We remain in dialogue with all stakeholders and are working closely with the authorities throughout the process,” a senior representative from the K Raheja Corp told Mumbai Mirror.

- It opened in 1879 as a theatre for performing arts and was originally known as Gaiety

- During the British Raj, it staged countless plays. It was converted to cinema in 1928, after which the name was changed to Capitol

- The Neo-Classical beauty, with its Kurla Basalt façade and Porbunder limestone carvings, is a Grade II-B heritage structure on the ‘A’ Ward list

- It also stands in the shadow of giants, as the landmark structure sits in the buffer zone of Grade-I icons CSMT and the BMC Head Office

- A senior civic official told Mumbai Mirror that There were two turrets – above the staircase blocks – atop the structure. “The original roof will be restored as per the archival images. So, these two turrets will be constructed after securing due permission from MHCC,” the civil official added

A heritage structure is classified as such for its architectural, historical, cultural or townscape significance and is subject to regulations aimed at preserving its heritage character.

“Under Mumbai’s heritage classification system, Grade II is divided into Grade II-A and Grade II-B, with the latter allowing certain adaptations and additional construction under specified conditions. Original façades, ornamental features, architectural details and other significant elements must be protected. Essential structural repairs, restoration, internal alterations and adaptive reuse may be permitted, provided they do not compromise the building’s heritage value. However, changes to the exterior, façade or other protected features are subject to scrutiny and may require approval from the competent civic and heritage authorities. Demolition or major redevelopment cannot be undertaken as a matter of course and must comply with applicable heritage regulations,” said a city-based architect, requesting anonymity.

With Bethlehem Kudumba Unit (BKU) becoming Malayalam cinema’s biggest blockbuster in terms of footfalls, its success has reinforced something audiences have come to appreciate about Nivin Pauly: his ability to inhabit characters that feel real. From the repeat-viewing appeal of family dramas to experimenting with different genres, the actor reflects on career choices, the evolving Malayalam film market, social media and the speculation of a reunion with Dulquer Salmaan. Excerpts:

What has been especially beautiful about BKU is the repeat viewing. Someone watches it with friends and returns with their family. Young people are bringing their parents and grandparents. Milestones like this are wonderful, but they will eventually be surpassed. Malayalam cinema is seeing industry hits more frequently, which is a healthy sign. It means the audience is growing, the market is expanding and bigger achievements are possible. I’m sure the next industry hit is already on its way. For me, the real happiness is that BKU became part of that growth.

Every relationship needs to be handled with sensitivity, and this one was no different. What I appreciate about Justin is that he never tries to control Ashley or treats love as ownership. Even when things get difficult, he doesn’t try to separate her from her parents or force her to choose between them and him. They aren’t perfect people, and theirs isn’t a perfect relationship. But there is respect, freedom and a genuine choice to be together. That is what makes their relationship beautiful.

Family audiences are the hardest to connect with, because you’re not speaking to one age group or one kind of viewer. A teenager, a parent and a grandparent can watch the same film for completely different reasons. So when a film connects across generations, I don’t see a 'family-film space'; I see emotions universal enough to travel. I’ve always been drawn to characters who feel close to life: flawed, funny, vulnerable, sometimes confused. Maybe audiences find it easy to place me in those worlds. But I never choose a film thinking, 'This will work with families'. I choose it because I believe in the character and the emotional truth of the story. With BKU, Girish AD created a family that doesn’t feel designed for cinema. They’re messy, affectionate, irritating and real. That excited me.

Instinct has guided me throughout my career, starting with my decision to quit my IT job and pursue cinema. Some of my experiments worked, others didn’t, but both gave me clarity. Failure can make you cautious, but if it makes you afraid, you stop growing as an actor. The lesson was never to stop experimenting, but to understand myself better. Now, the question is how much of what people love about me I can retain while still surprising them.

Success tells you what works, while failure forces you to understand your choices, mistakes and strengths. Both are necessary. The most important thing is not to give up during a difficult phase. In cinema, one Friday can change everything. But you can’t simply wait for that Friday to arrive. You have to keep working, preparing and improving so you’re ready when it does.

A lot of the best humour comes from behaviour... a hesitation, a reaction, an awkward silence or just the way one person looks at another. I really enjoy that kind of comedy, and I genuinely enjoy the process of shooting those scenes. I usually feel very relaxed going into a comedy sequence. A big part of that also comes from my co-actors. Sometimes I enjoy their performances so much that I find it difficult to stop laughing during a take. So, yes, maybe comedy has become more instinctive with experience, but for me, the most important thing is still enjoying the moment and reacting honestly to the people around me.

I prefer not trying too hard to be funny. If the character knows he is delivering a joke, sometimes the humour disappears. But if the character is completely serious and the situation becomes funny for the audience, that is much more enjoyable for me. In a family entertainer especially, humour has to travel across generations. A teenager, a parent and a grandparent may laugh at completely different things in the same scene. So, rather than designing every moment as a punchline, I think it is better to make the situation truthful. Humour usually finds its own way out of that.

We don’t have to try to create chemistry or build a bond with our co-stars. It happens naturally. We just need to be ourselves. With Aju, it is nice because we are such close friends, and we are close even as families. Even if we don’t have a lot of friends, having a few good friends is still great.

With Ram sir and Yezhu Kadal Yezhu Malai, I entered a completely different cinematic world. The rhythm, philosophy and approach to a character were very different from those in the films I normally do. Benz gives me a completely different kind of energy and scale. I didn’t want to approach the character thinking, ‘Now I have to behave like a villain.’ That can become very external. The more interesting question for me was: why does this man believe he is justified in what he is doing? Most people don’t wake up thinking they are the villain in somebody else’s story. They have their own logic, ego, wounds and ambitions. Finding that internal logic was much more interesting to me than simply trying to look threatening. I enjoy that contrast.

Social media is a great way to gauge how people respond to your work. Audiences show their love through messages, edits and posts, and also offer constructive criticism. But it’s not healthy to form an opinion based entirely on social media. Algorithms can keep showing us a particular pattern that may not reflect the wider audience. Personal messages can be more useful because when someone takes the time to explain what moved them or didn’t work, you get a more honest sense of how your work is reaching people.

I’m definitely open to working in different languages. Today, good films can travel far beyond the language in which they are made. For me, what matters most is finding the right character, filmmaker and story.

It’s something to be proud of when people speak well of Malayalam cinema. More writers and directors can help us grow further, both in content and commercial success. We also need big films that gross Rs. 700 crore or Rs. 1,000 crore, but they must be content-driven. That’s what audiences expect, too. Earlier, even Rs. 100 crore was a rare milestone. We’ve come a long way, with films grossing Rs. 300 crore in the last two Onam seasons. Now, the industry is also more connected with distributors outside Kerala. Not every film will work in every region, so we need to understand its core audience and position it accordingly. If a film has potential in a particular market, we should be ready to push it. We did that with BKU and Sarvam Maya. Manjummel Boys, Aavesham and Premalu have also travelled well. It needs strategic planning and a team ready to act when an opportunity arises.

Dear Students is awaiting release. Multiverse Manmadhan is in the rewriting phase. The same goes for the film with Alphonse Puthren (Vijayam). Everyone is taking their time to make the scripts better, so I agreed that we should take our time and make decisions as we go. I also have a project with Nashid Famy, the writer of Jaya Jaya Jaya Jaya Hey. It is a fun entertainer, and that is progressing in parallel. I haven’t decided what I will do next after that.

In Bangalore Days, Dulquer and I played cousins. When we met at an award function after a long gap, his warmth immediately brought back that cousin-like bond. Later, Dulquer distributed my film with Ram sir, Yezhu Kadal Yezhu Malai, in Kerala, and people began speculating about a reunion. We’d both be excited to work together again; it’s about finding the right project. Given the affection and expectations surrounding our reunion, we’d want the film to live up to that excitement.

For actor Paresh Rawal, sharing screen space with his son Aditya Rawal in Pastt Tense was a special experience that went beyond their relationship off screen. While the two had appeared in earlier films, this was the first time they acted in substantial roles, facing each other on camera. Paresh talks about watching Aditya hold his own alongside seasoned actors, resisting the urge to advise him on set and the quiet joy of seeing his son find his footing as an actor. Excerpts...

Paresh says he enjoyed working with Aditya. “This was kind of the first time we were acting together. Earlier, Aditya did a small role in OMG Oh My God, and the role of my younger version in Ferrari Ki Sawaari. But this time, in Pastt Tense, we were face-to-face, literally and figuratively also. There is a joy because I know he is a very hard-working, very balanced kid. Low-profile wala banda hai, but he is extremely focused.”

While working with a family member can initially feel unusual, Paresh says he was comfortable sharing the set with his son. “When you are working together on set with your family member, there could initially be a little oddity. But I've been on stage with my wife, so with Aditya I didn't find it odd. Maybe he felt it, but he concealed it and did his job extremely well. Toh mujhe toh bahut maza aaya.”

For a father watching his son perform, resisting the urge to step in with suggestions can be a challenge. Paresh, however, says he was conscious of letting the director take the lead.

“On set, there is always a kind of impulse you have to control. You want your son to perform in a certain manner, but you have to control that because there is a director like Ananth Mahadevan, who is very good. On set, aisa koi mauka aaya nahi ki main Aditya ko advise kar sakoon. I was happy with the way he went about the scenes. Also, set pe main kabhi tension nahi leta hoon; I'm a very easy-going, friendly person with everybody. But Aditya ka nature aisa hai ki he is kind of very closed. He was extremely concentrated, headphone laga ke baitha tha, toh uske saath toh main zyada interact nahi kiya. Of course, after pack-up, when I'd ask him, ‘Dinner pe kya khayega tu?’ he'd say, ‘Main order kar loonga.’ Bas utna hi interaction tha.”

What particularly impressed Paresh was Aditya's restraint as a performer. Sharing screen space with experienced actors such as Adil Hussain and Sharib Hashmi, as well as Paresh himself, could have been daunting for a newcomer.

“Yeah, Aditya did surprise me as an actor on the set. Normally, when you are new and are pitted against stalwarts, you tend to overdo, overdeliver, just to conceal nervousness. But surprisingly, Aditya didn't do that at all. He was completely minimal. Toh mujhe uska approach bahut accha laga.”

Paresh was also impressed by the questions Aditya raised during the shoot. “The kind of questions he was raising during the shoot, I used to really enjoy it a lot. I used to think, ‘Yeh toh bahut accha hai.’ Bahut khushi hoti hai when you see your kid going on the correct path. And khushi se bhi better is that you are relieved that he was on the right track.”

Paresh's wife, actor Swaroop Rawal, was equally excited about seeing her husband and son share screen space. Recalling her reaction, he says, “She asked me, ‘Tum dono ka koi fight scene nahi hai na?’ Actually, she was very thrilled as a mother and as a wife. She said that it will be fun to watch us.”

I was a bit taken aback initially. I was not used to that confidence and that fire. But after giving it more thought, I realized that she has a right to have her own opinion and to disagree. So, I am not scared of those eye-rolls and door-slamming now. In fact, I like it because I have been there and done that. This is like a replay (laughs). I feel that every teenager will go through this stage, and no parent should try to stop it or make them behave. They are gaining confidence and also assuring themselves that they can have an opinion, which is fantastic. I am happy that Kaveri is a typical teenager right now… It’s not necessary that she’s not listening to me by putting her headphones on, turning around, and showing me her back. Besides, the frequency of “Oh sorry” and “I love you” has increased for sure (laughs).

I think the key is not a trick; it is transparency. I try to be as transparent as possible while communicating with her. I listen to her sensitively and genuinely when she is telling me something. I rarely continue my own work or keep scrolling while she is talking. It’s beautiful to see someone flower in front of you, so it is important to hear what they have to say. Similarly, when I have something to tell, it is her turn to listen to me. There are times when I tell her that something is not good for her. For example, recently some of her friends were getting into hair care routines inspired by social media. So, I had a chat with her about this, and she got the point. A mother’s word is better than online suggestions.

There are challenges, but I don’t think a few years here and there make a difference. The early 20s are a time when mothers are still aspiring professionals, and for them it’s an issue if they need to take a break in their career. It can be a setback in progress. Even though I was surprised when I conceived, I was happy. Incidentally, I was working on three films (‘Singham’, ‘Deool’ and ‘The Good Road’) at that time. I had always wanted to be a mother. I wanted to have many children of my own and adopt as well. As I was in my 30s, I was far more aware and settled. I wanted to have a natural delivery, so I did all the pregnancy workouts and stretches to stay fit, and all went well.

I did work through pregnancy and resumed again when Kaveri was five and a half months old. I think the film industry is filled with empathetic and supportive people. People do pass insensitive remarks if someone has put on weight. Body-shaming is very wrong, and people are waking up to that. It is unfortunate that the discussion of shift hours became such a burning issue. Maybe there was a miscommunication, and a superstar like Deepika will definitely be given everything that she deserves willingly and lovingly.

Yes, I wanted to get into formal teaching. But I don’t teach my daughter as such. I focus on teaching her life skills. I have the highest respect for teachers who teach her at school. I have my favourite teachers, but I love my mother abundantly. Similarly, I would love Kaveri to meet fantastic teachers in her life, and I want to be there for her too. I teach her things that might seem silly. Recently, on Dussehra, I drew the traditional Saraswati symbol and Apta tree leaves on our blackboard. In the Marathi community, we exchange these leaves as a symbol of gold to wish each other wealth and prosperity. To my surprise, in the evening, Kaveri told me, “Aai, did you see? I have made Saraswati next to your Saraswati.” It was heart-warming. I love teaching her small things, be it rangoli, traffic rules, or civic sense. You don’t have to actually verbalize or demonstrate what you are teaching. You just have to be the person you want them to become. Kids learn by observing.

I have always wanted to make films for kids. There are not too many Indian movies or plays for kids. And the plays running are dated at times. So, I had been thinking about these things and thought of starting a podcast for kids to start with. I didn’t want to interview celebrity kids, as they get enough attention anyway, not just from the media but from their own parents too. I wanted to talk to kids from different backgrounds and understand what they think, what they feel, and the aspirations they have. I met one girl who was a star student. Then there was a child who had no qualms about religion. He was a Muslim, but he was talking passionately about Diwali and Dahi Handi. There was a girl whose parent is a lesbian, and she was okay with it. The innocence of children interests me. I wish we could protect this innocence and naivety. As we grow and become professional and smart, we lose our naivety. My effort is to conserve that innocence and offer them a protective hand via my podcast.

I love this question. Thank you for asking this. Yes, the opinions are divided. I am of the belief that we needn’t burden the child. You don’t need to ask your child which car we should buy, or whether we should take a farmhouse or not.

Just for the sake of equality, we cannot pressure kids to make choices and make them feel responsible for decisions. Having said that, I have also seen parents not giving their children choices when it comes to selecting their career or the classes they attend. That is wrong. Sometimes, parents change a child’s school for a better board or better opportunities. But is the child asked if they are ready to leave their present friends and face a new community? These are questions we must ask. It’s nice to involve kids in decisions about their lives. Say we have set aside Rs 5000 for their birthday. We can tell the child that and ask them whether they would like to invite friends home or distribute chocolates at school. It’s very important to make the child feel heard.

It is important to instill in children that colour or body size do not matter and that everyone is beautiful. Somebody’s writing is beautiful, somebody’s singing is beautiful, somebody’s nature is beautiful. But I feel that more than kids, we need to teach adults these things. Kids are going to follow what they see. We have so many ads that say that you are not your colour. It’s so unfortunate that some people still believe that people with lighter complexions are better looking. We have open chats about these things with Kaveri.

We must finish whatever is on the plate. We must eat whatever is cooked at home. We are okay to skip a meal or snack (I don’t force food). We also have to help with laying the table, making the bed, and everyone has to wash their own undergarments. So, even if we have a cook or we have help at home, Kaveri takes part in everything. Helping is a way of co-existing. I also feel that kids should know their mother tongue, so I speak in Marathi at home, and I expect answers in Marathi.