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.”

A few weeks ago, music composer and singer Amaal Mallik announced on social media that he was taking a one-year break from the film music industry to focus on his physical and mental health. 

Explaining his choice to do this, he shares, “My mind is rocking but physical health is talking. Every artiste expects self-worth and appreciation. Main film music ko apni kadar dikha dikha kar thak gaya. Actor apni jagah aur hamaari apni jagah. Izzat ki baat hai. It’s not that someone’s career ends without the film industry. This is a perception in our country because people have a habit of looking at the music industry as a subset of the film industry.”

He adds, “Call it a break or retirement, but I took one in 2019. A seven-year relationship had ended, and I had also lost my dog around the same time. I was working on Kabir Singh, and the blueprint I had made for the soundtrack was taken by some composers. People asked why I didn’t speak about it then. That’s because I was going through such a personal emotional loss. I spoke when I was better and had the chance.”

In an era of remixes, Amaal’s insistence on keeping original music separate from remix-led offers also shaped his choices and cost him opportunities.

He says, “I have been removed from 60 films, while I must have declined 15-20 films myself. I have a rule: if the original song is locked first and there is a need for a remix later, I will do it. But I will not do a remix as a condition for being offered an original song in another film. I declined to remix Aashiq Banaya Aapne and Masakali. In fact, I asked fellow composers not to do them because as a community, we cannot let down other composers. We are not one-song wonders or sell-outs.”

He adds, “I also started noticing a simple pattern: Amaal Mallik ko album se hataao, woh nahi chahiye, even if the song is good. I have realized that if you work with ethics, speak the truth and create original music, toh aapko kaata jaayega. I want to set an example to upcoming composers to ask for their rights and not sign wrong contracts.”

The experiences of being removed from projects and having to make difficult choices also took a toll on his confidence, but the response to Yeh Awarapan in Awarapan 2 has helped restore some of that belief in his work.

Amaal recalls, “At the time, I wasn’t confident, but ultimately, the song won. The day after the title track released, I was offered 15 films, and I have signed three. However, I don’t want to talk about them now because whenever I speak about my work, there is an effort to remove me from that project.”

The negative PR he encountered around his song in Awarapan also contributed to his public confrontation on social media with composer Tanishk Bagchi, which he later deleted.

He says, “Many people tried to mess with the song and spread negative PR around it. I had proof to substantiate my claims, but I had to remove the garbage from my timeline. My post will make people famous, and I am not here to do that. I have the courage to call a spade a spade, toh agar meri galti hogi, main usko bhi accept karunga.”

Amaal also raised the issue with Salman Khan Films’ social media team after an anniversary post celebrating 11 years of Hero omitted his name as the composer and Kumaar as the lyricist of Main Hoon Hero Tera.

He says, “My tweet wasn’t directed at Salman Khan sir. My point was that Kumaar and I created the song. When you celebrate a song, the composer and lyricist should also be recognized. I didn’t fight for my own brother, who sang the song. I fought for my writer and myself. After that, many labels have added our credit and I am glad that people are coming around.”

One development that has strengthened his resolve is his father Daboo Malik publicly stepping forward to support him.

Daboo says, “Amaal is a very important aspect of my existence, and many people don’t factor in how this child has grown and built a musical empire of his own. Many times, Amaal has stopped me from speaking up despite documented proof. Today, I feel it is time for me to speak up for him. If he is speaking his mind, I will stand by him. If anyone wrongs him, they should know that I will not remain silent. I will support him even if he chooses not to make music after this. His music speaks for itself, and my priority now is his health and well-being.”

For years, the question of women in commercial cinema was simply whether they were there. Today, women headline action films, lead spy missions and carry franchises. The change is visible. But visibility can be deceptive. A woman can be at the centre of the frame without being at the centre of the story. Alpha, the first female-led film in YRF’s spy universe, puts Alia Bhatt and Sharvari in a world historically dominated by male agents. Yet questions remain about whether the sexualization's of its female stars belongs to an older visual grammar. Toxic, directed by Geetu Mohandas and featuring five prominent actresses alongside Yash, was positioned as a film with a female gaze, but questions have also been raised about whether its female characters have stories independent of its male protagonist.

The female gaze is ultimately about point of view: whether a character has an interior life, and whether her choices carry narrative weight.

Data journalist Surbhi Bhatia’s analysis of Bollywood from 2000-2022 found that female-led films received less than a fifth of the capital and resources invested in the top films in any year. Yet these films can be highly profitable, often delivering returns comparable to, or better than, those of male-led films. Bhatia illustrates the disparity through the returns on investment of women-led films. Lipstick Under My Burkha, made for around Rs 6 crore, generated approximately Rs 25 crore, a return of more than four times its investment. Raazi, starring Alia Bhatt as a spy, was made for around Rs 40 crore and generated Rs 195 crore worldwide, returning 4.8 times its investment. By comparison, a male-led film made for Rs 250 crore and earning Rs 500 crore delivers a 2x return.

The issue, she argues, is “not that women-led films perform badly, but that producers are less willing to assume the risk of producing, distributing and promoting them at scale.”

Bhatia will discuss these findings during her talk Kuch Kuch Data Hai: Bollywood, Visualized today at Woodside Inn, Bandra, as part of a Pint of View Lecture. Her research also shows that roughly one-third of working characters in paid occupations in films are women. They are more likely to be doctors, teachers, journalists, dancers, actors and models, while police officers, military personnel, politicians and criminals remain more likely to be male. Characters associated with power, danger or institutional authority are still more often written as men.

Aditi Govitrikar, actor, sees a similar gap between discussions and opportunities. “The conversation is happening, but whether it will translate into work or not remains to be seen,” she says, pointing to Delhi Crime, The Great Indian Murder and Made In Heaven as rare examples of women-centred storytelling.

That gap becomes more complicated once a film moves from the idea on the page to the finished product. Sidharth Jain, founder and producer at The Story Ink, explains, “Commercial filmmaking is inherently a collaborative process. Writers, filmmakers, producers, actors, studios and marketing teams all enter the equation, along with the pressure of the box office.”

With larger budgets and more stakeholders, an original idea is not necessarily discarded, Jain explains, but can gradually become something different from what the filmmaker first set out to make. Creative control can therefore be as consequential as casting.

A female lead, or even a woman directing the film, does not automatically determine the perspective through which her character is understood. That point of view has to survive from script to screen.

Arati Kadav, director of Mrs., takes the argument back to the writing itself. “We don’t depict women as whole people,” she says. Creators need to “step in the shoes of their characters” and “live those stories with the fullness they deserve”. Even smaller female characters, she argues, should have “a strong point of view, a proper backstory and some duality, rather than becoming too one-tone”.

Jain adds, “My biggest problem is that we don’t have a large pool of good screenwriting.” A filmmaker may have the right intent, but without the craft to communicate it, the idea, he says, can get lost in execution.

Revati Mahurkar, who has worked across Indian and international music videos including Qatal, Mascara and Tevar, believes that sensuality and self-expression can coexist beautifully when women have a say in how they are presented—from performance and costumes to the images that make the final cut. “I think women having agency in how they are presented changes the entire perception of their presence on the screen,” she says.

“It’s what moves us away from objectification towards having an active role in picturizing and presenting the content, whether a song or a film.” Mahurkar also feels that respect for women in the industry may be growing, but “entertainment only reflects what is happening in the real world around us.”

Jain, too, sees the industry moving beyond its traditionally male-star-driven model, in which “the heroine is just there for three songs”, towards a greater emphasis on story and content.

He sees it most clearly among younger writers, who are “more self-aware, more responsible” about how women are written. But he is wary of treating this as a complete transformation.

“It’s a generational shift,” he says, one that will happen slowly, as filmmakers and audiences continue to shape and respond to each other.

Films such as Kabir Singh and Animal are reminders that stories built around male desire and violence still have considerable commercial currency. But their success does not cancel the growth of female-led cinema; it only exposes the marketplace in which those films must compete. Counting more heroines, too, tells us little about how much narrative power women have acquired.

Representation cannot, after all, be measured by counting women on screen. A heroine may have substantial dialogue, fight scenes and even a plot of her own while the film continues to view her chiefly through male desire. The real measure is whether she has an inner life, consequential choices and ambitions that do not exist merely to advance a man’s story. Bollywood may be changing the stories it is willing to tell, but the more difficult shift lies in who gets to shape them, and whose perspective is allowed to endure from the first draft to the final frame.

The first-look posters of Batwara 1947 sparked confusion online, with several social media users mistaking lead actor Kanikka Kapur for actor Kiara Advani and wondering whether the latter was part of the Partition drama.

Reacting to the chatter, Kanikka, 31, tells us that while such comparisons are not new, the scale of the response took her by surprise: “When I saw people had mistaken me for Kiara in the poster, I laughed a lot. People have compared me before, but never this much. I thought maybe when they watch the movie, they will keep looking for Kiara.”

Kanikka recalls facing similar comparisons during her web show ImMATURE season 2, when her ponytail look was placed alongside Kiara’s look from Kabir Singh (2019): “I’m sort of used to being compared to her. A lot of people say I look like her and a lot of people say I don’t.”

The actor, who stars opposite Karan Deol in the Rajkumar Santoshi directorial, says she takes the mix-up in good humour: “Honestly, I don’t mind because I find her really pretty. If people think I look like her, it’s fine.”

Seven years after Kabir Singh became one of Bollywood’s most discussed films, Nikita Dutta still finds herself revisiting its impact. The actress, who played Jiya Sharma in the blockbuster which released on June 21, 2019, says the film continues to remain relevant, because conversations around it never seem to end.

Nikita says, “For me, it was a career-defining moment. After 2019, the way filmmakers looked at me and approached me changed completely. I give this film almost 99 percent of the credit for that.” 

Ironically, despite the success of the Telugu original Arjun Reddy, Nikita wasn’t convinced the Hindi remake would become such a phenomenon.

“I actually thought the opposite. We’ve seen films work brilliantly in the South and then not perform the same way in Hindi. So I didn’t expect Kabir Singh to become a hit. It taught me that sometimes you need to trust the filmmaker more than your own instincts.”

Talking about stepping into Jiya Sharma’s shoes, Nikita reveals, “Jiya was an actress, so in some ways I was just playing a subtler version of myself. Sandeep Reddy Vanga sir asked me to watch Arjun Reddy, and when I met him, all he wanted to know was whether I liked the film and the character. There were no lengthy discussions about character graphs or detailed preparation.”

Yet playing Jiya wasn’t as easy as it looked, largely because the character spoke so little. “When you don’t have dialogues, everything depends on your expressions. This was the first time I was trying that kind of subtle performance.”

The film’s success also left a lasting impact on her personally. “A big success changes you. It gave me confidence and self-belief. I suddenly felt there was something I was genuinely good at. That’s a very powerful feeling for an actor.”

Actor Shahid Kapoor has played brooding men before, but as O'Romeo releases today, he appears surprisingly at ease. Calm, measured, almost detached from the chaos his character brings to screen. Excerpts...

In spirit, I would say yes to the latter! But from a professional POV, no. I don’t think any artist can give themselves to something unless they connect with it. When the connection is not there, there is always something missing in the product. In O'Romeo, of course it’s the titular part; I play Ustraa. And with Vishal Bhardwaj, it’s always a world that he creates. Ustraa’s attitude is that of Romeo. If, as creative people, you don’t connect, it is wrong for you to do the film. If you won’t be honest, it is unfair for everybody else. I very much connected with this film. I had one preset in my head before I met him, and I was very clear that at this stage in my career, I don’t want to do a film that is too experimental or a film meant for a smaller, intellectual audience and not for a wider audience, who have a simpler mindset and whose approach to filmmaking is that they go to theatres to get entertained. There’s the cinema you love and the cinema that people love. The whole endeavour has been for years to find a Ganga-Jamuna moment between them, to meet a middle ground. This film is an attempt at achieving that; it’s meant for an intelligent audience but also very much like a typical, mass audience.

(L-R) Raj Vasudeva and Adil Hussain in ‘Mercy’. Pics/Instagram, Youtube

There is an allure to quieter cinema, the kind that satiates the soul. That’s what Adil Hussain seeks with every project. And achieves too. A case in point being his latest indie film, Mercy, which won the Best International Feature Award at the London Independent Film Festival earlier this week. “I play a sort of conscience keeper,” says Hussain of his character, Father Joel, in the Mitul Patel-directed drama. “He resolves people’s crises — moral, emotional, or spiritual.”

Despite its recent international win, Mercy is yet to release in India. The senior actor is disappointed that meaningful stories are often overlooked in the Indian market.

“Such films don’t meet the market’s appetite for gloss and spectacle. The market is dominated by big-budget, flashy storytelling, leaving little space for quieter cinema. People assume films like Mercy will come to streaming eventually. Meanwhile, social media floods them with shallow entertainment. People have become lethargic about seeking stories that touch them deeply,” he reflects.

Hussain — who has championed quality stories with Life Of Pi (2012), English Vinglish (2012), and Mukti Bhawan (2016) — notes that meaningful cinema can survive only if both creators and the audience make conscious efforts.

“Unless distributors, producers, and OTT platforms collectively push to promote such films, they’ll keep getting lost in the noise of short-form entertainment and cheap thrills. We must not forget that true art entertains the soul, not just the senses.”

In his four-decade career, the actor has built a rich filmography. His appearance in Kabir Singh (2019), however, was a departure from his usual projects. Later, he expressed regret about being a part of the movie, leading director Sandeep Reddy Vanga to state that Kabir Singh brought Hussain more fame than his other “art films”. He also threatened to replace Hussain’s face with an AI version of him in the movie. 

Broach the subject, and Hussain, with his usual grace, admits, “It’s my fault that I did not read the script. I was travelling extensively with Mukti Bhawan then and didn’t have the time to go through the full script or watch the original Telugu version [Arjun Reddy]. I even told my manager to quote five times my usual fee, hoping they’d back out — but they agreed.”

He eventually accepted the role after reading what he thought was a “brilliantly written” scene. However, his perception changed after watching the film. “I found it misogynistic. When I saw the film, I thought, ‘What have I done?’”

He, however, emphasizes that his regret was personal, not accusatory. “It’s not about what Sandeep Reddy Vanga has done — it’s my responsibility. I could have said no. Several women friends expressed disappointment. It was important for me to say I regret doing that film.”

Braving the downpour, Stree 2 stars Rajkummar Rao and Shraddha Kapoor recently brightened up HT’s New Delhi office with their infectious energy. At HT City’s Stars in the City event, the duo had a lively chat with Sonal Kalra, Chief Managing Editor (Entertainment and Lifestyle), Hindustan Times. During the conversation, Rao candidly shared a boundary in his acting career: “It would be very hard for me to slap a girl in a scene. I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

When asked if he would have taken on a role like Kabir Singh, Rao responded thoughtfully, “Maybe, but I would have had a lot of discussions with my director about that scene. Unless it’s something integral, like breathing for the character, I would get into a big debate with my director.”

The 2019 film, directed by Sandeep Reddy Vanga, was a box-office success, but it also drew significant controversy. Actor Shahid Kapoor’s portrayal of the titular character, criticized for his violent and toxic behaviour towards his love interest, Preeti, sparked much debate. Rao made it clear that the infamous slap scene was a line he wouldn’t cross.

Shraddha Kapoor was all smiles as she engaged with the winners of the HT City’s Stars in the City contest, answering everything from her upcoming projects, music to the big question — marriage. 

Initially sidestepping the topic, she shared, “I am so lucky to receive so much love everywhere — it’s a huge blessing. I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s very humbling. There’s a special connection I have with my fans. Little girls hug me, calling me their ‘big sister,’ and even elderly people tell me I exude positive energy. I just want to say thank you!”

But Kapoor didn’t leave it at that. Addressing the marriage question directly, she added, “As far as marriage goes, I absolutely believe in fairytale love — that’s what I imagine. Whenever that happens for me, I would love to take it to the next level and get married.”

Kapoor, who has always been mum about her personal life, has recently been in the news for a breakup with scriptwriter Rahul Mody, who wrote the 2023 rom-com Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar, starring her. Fans speculated that the actor not only unfollowed Mody, but also stopped following his sister, the production house and his dog on social media.

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In 2004, Kunal Kapoor debuted with Meenaxi: A Tale of Three Cities, after which he went on to do a prominent and probably one of his most memorable roles in Rang De Basanti. It’s been two decades since the actor started his journey as an actor. Talking about falling in love with cinema, he shares, “At the core, I believe I am a storyteller, and for me, this is the best place to be.”

Elaborating on his decision to pursue a career in show business, Kunal says, “I discovered movies by chance after doing many things in my life. I became an assistant director (assisted director Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra on Aks), and once I was on a set, I felt this was the most magical place.”

“It was the most exciting place to be – whether as an actor or a storyteller. But it’s also a place with its own set of challenges. There have been ups and downs, there have been very exciting times, and then, there have been frustrating times. But when you’re in a place you love, you take everything in your stride and move on,” says Kunal.

In his 20-year-long career, Kunal has never really spoken about the ups and downs he has faced. He says, “Sometimes you don’t get the kind of work you’re looking for. You’ve to wait for it, and that can be a bit frustrating. It’s like being part of a football match; everyone’s playing the match, and you’re sitting on the bench waiting for your chance to get in.”

He further adds, “For the longest time, I was offered the role of either a poet or a terrorist. Those were the two kinds of roles that constantly came to me. As an individual, you know there’s so much more you can do and explore.”

Kunal hints at the lack of lucrative acting gigs as the reason for concentrating on writing and production. The actor, who was seen in the web show The Empire, explains, “At one point, I realised I wasn’t getting the kind of work I wanted. Instead of waiting, I decided to create the work that I wanted to be a part of. It pushed me in the direction of writing. Today, I am working on six scripts with different writers and also acting in four projects. I feel I have probably entered the best phase of my career now.”

Over the years, the syntax of movies and storytelling has changed, which Kunal believes is the best thing to have happened. “When I started out, there were certain kinds of movies that would be made, and the hero was expected to be of a certain kind. You had to fit into a mould, which I didn’t. There were certain expectations about the kind of films that you had to do. And I didn’t enjoy those films. Fortunately, what’s happened is that the mould has changed now, and different kinds of characters are being written, and different stories are being made. That’s the kind of space I enjoy,” he says.

Kunal believes that the quintessential Hindi movie hero has also evolved along with our movies. “Today, the audience accepts all kinds of heroes. You have characters like Shahid Kapoor in Kabir Singh and Ranbir Kapoor in Animal. These characters wouldn’t have worked maybe 10-12 years ago because people expected heroes to be a certain way. The more we stretch that mould, the better it is for everybody,” he signs off.

Filmmaker Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s ‘alpha’ instinct seems to have kicked in after actor Adil Hussain said recently in an interview that he regrets being a part of Vanga’s 2019 film Kabir Singh.

“Ur ‘belief’ in 30 art films didn’t get as much fame to u as ur ‘regret’ of 1 BLOCKBUSTER film did... I regret casting u, knwing that ur greed is bigger than ur passion. NOW I’ll save U from the shame by replacing Ur face with AI help Now smile properly (sic),” Vanga wrote on X alongside a clip of Hussain’s interview.

In the aforementioned interview, the actor said that he became a part of Kabir Singh (played the college Dean) without reading the script. He added that he told his manager to ask for more money so that the makers would say no, but they still agreed to it.

Shahid Kapoor and Kiara Advani-starrer Kabir Singh emerged as one of the biggest blockbusters of 2019, collecting over Rs. 250 cr at the domestic box office. However, a section of the society also called it misogynistic. Vanga’s 2023 film Animal faced a similar storm of controversy.

“I have said it before that the only film I regret doing is Kabir Singh. I think a film like it celebrates something which is not beneficial for the society. It legitimizes male misogyny and violence against anybody (does not have to be a woman),” Adil Hussain had told AP Podcast recently.

The box office has been back for two years now and now enough films have been released to get an idea of star positions post the pandemic. As far as female leads go, Alia Bhatt is the undisputed number one being the main force driving for the success of GANGUBAI KATHIAWADI and ROCKY AUR RANI KII PREM KAHAANI. She is probably the only female star who is a a box office draw and can carry a film alone.

The box office numbers of films featuring Alia Bhatt have always been better in Mumbai city and Pune even when the content is more of a North type of film like 2 STATES or RAAZI and this has continued with GANGUBAI KATHIAWADI and ROCKY AUR RANI KII PREM KAHAANI. So, when a heroine has a few places always outperforming, it really helps at the box office though it will be tougher ahead as these two centres are very unpredictable at the moment.

There are probably three other female leads that can be called stars today and they are Deepika Padukone, Kiara Advani and Shraddha Kapoor. So the ranking today is as follows and its difficult to put someone in fifth place as either no one is able to make much of an impact or other female leads don't hold the same value as before.

1. Alia Bhatt

2. Deepika Padukone

3. Kiara Advani

4. Shraddha Kapoor

There was a time when Deepika Padukone was well clear of the field but there were not many films towrds the end of the last decade just before the pandemic and the attempts to succeed in films where the female lead is the driver did not work like FINDING FANNY and CHHAPAAK. The last named was a huge downer just before the pandemic. PATHAAN came post the pandemic and it probably undid some of the CHHAPAAK damage which was a mistake of epic proportions for a heroine like Deepika Padukone.. 

Kiara Advani had made huge strides just before the pandemic with films like KABIR SNGH and GOOD NEWWZ and even in the pandemic, she had a blockbuster song Burj Khalifa and the film LAXMII (2020) which is probably still the only genuine HIT to be premiered on digital. The run continues post the pandemic and at the moment, she is that quintessential Hindi film heroine who fits well into all genres and is also able to pair up with most leading male stars. In popularity with the youth, she could actually be ahead of Deepika Padukone at this point of time.

Shraddha Kapoor is the fourth genuine female star today and actually should probably be doing better but there are so few films and this is just not the case over the last few years but even now post pandemic it will be only two releases in around four years with TU JHOOTHI MAIN MAKKAAR and STREE 2. The popularity is there but films have to come to prove this.

After these four, it would probably be names like Katrina Kaif, Kareena Kapoor, Kriti Sanon and Disha Patani. Katrina Kaif had TIGER 3 which did well and that is the zone she fits into well but there are very few films made like that. But the issue is that its difficult to slot her into that so called female content film zone unless its action genre but those films are also very less if any.

Kareena Kapoor has had LAAL SINGH CHADDHA and a television film but has face value and the talent still to work at the box office given the right film. But obviously too many television films will dilute the equity as far as theatrical value is concerned which will only make box office success harder especially in a female led film.

Kriti Sanon was on a upward curve before the pandemic hit and just behind Alia Bhatt and Kiara Advani as fas as the girls who made an entry in the last decade were concerned. Post pandemic, the audience has not been that kind with major duds and now its about whether this trend can reverse with the right films.

Disha Patani is similar to Shraddha Kapoor with so little work. There is some credit to go to her for the initial of EK VILLAIN RETURNS. So, there is some popularity there but again, you need back to back films to reach that genuine star status.  

Generally there is dearth of popular heriones for the youth hero/heroine film as Alia maybe has become too big for this zone, Deepika will not pair well with the younger actors while Shraddha hardly does films leaving Kiara. But with her run at the box office, she will probably have the choice of the bigger films and there are four female stars who actually make a difference.

This makes it even more difficult to make that medium budget comedy/action /love story as the younger male stars have not hit huge heights at the box office, Hence, you need a pairing with a popular heroine to make it a package to get that initial audience out but those heroines are limited in supply.

Shahid Kapoor, whose projects Farzi and Bloody Daddy made it to the ‘most watched on OTT list’, believes that the very fact people still track viewership numbers means that the numbers game, including at the box office, is always a hot topic.

“I don’t want to be naive. The box office signifies popularity, size of your reach and how many people have consumed your content. That’s never going to change,” shares the actor, adding, “Different types of content are now accepted, maybe writers, directors and actors will feel less boxed in. There’s freedom to express yourself and do different things without a track record to look back on and say, ‘Only this thing works’.”

Kapoor’s next is an untitled theatrical release with actor Kriti Sanon.

While the audience is more discerning today, the 42-year-old looks back at the time when they weren’t influenced by box-office collections. “Earlier, people used to say film achhi thi ya buri thi, but now they are aware of so many things. Sometimes, the audience may not realize they’re being psychologically converted into believing that every successful film (one that rakes in a lot of money at the box office) is a good film.”

Ask how he selects projects he wants to work on and Kapoor says, “I think that the content should land — trends and taste changes, but a good film is a good film. Many people asked me, ‘Why are you doing Farzi after Kabir Singh (2019)?’ [I did it] because it was fantastic content,” he signs off.

Vijay Varma and Suzanna Mukherjee in Kaalkoot

In a scene in Kaalkoot, we see Vijay Varma’s character, cop Ravi Shankar Tripathi, climbing a wobbly ladder, tentatively and hesitantly. His fear is only heightened by his boss, who hollers at him from below. Moments later, a junior cop climbs up the ladder swiftly, while Ravi is mocked for his inability to perform the task. The humiliation is repeated in another instance when he is unable to stand up to his boss in a game of badminton. Through these little snippets, Kaalkoot presents a meek, hesitant and quiet-mannered protagonist. And fortunately, a new gaze through which to look at a ‘hero’.

“When Kabir Singh [2019] released, it was lambasted for romanticizing toxic male behaviour. But there was another film, Bareilly Ki Barfi [2017], which wanted the audience to laugh at Rajkummar Rao’s character for not being ‘masculine’ enough. Now, if that is the kind of clown you create, then Kabir Singh is the kind of hero you will get. What we have tried to do in our show in the initial bits—when he looks unassertive, unambitious, and lost—is that we empathized with him,” begins writer-director Sumit Saxena.

Kaalkoot sees Varma’s character investigating an acid attack case. In telling the tale of acid attack survivor Parul, essayed by Shweta Tripathi Sharma, the series delves into society’s distorted idea of masculinity, how that propagates toxic masculinity, and gender violence.

Sexuality educator Apurupa Vatsalya says the Jio Cinema offering holds up a mirror to society and challenges its notions that an ideal man is assertive, domineering and is the protector and provider. “At the outset, you see the hyper-masculine cops ridicule a fellow cop for being too empathetic. It is viewed as a character flaw. The suggestion is that he will not be capable as a cop because he is too emotional. He is doing all the macho things—riding a bike, investigating—and looks masculine, but because he is not assertive enough, he is suddenly incapable of his position. Toxic masculinity is sometimes ingrained. You’re not supposed to express your emotions or cry. They have grown up internalizing their emotions,” shares Vatsalya.

As the series progresses, it sheds light on the microaggressions that often denote toxic masculinity. In an instance, the cops are quick to determine that Parul must be a sex worker, after discovering a bottle of whiskey from her bag. Another scene sees two cops discussing slapping their wives for not being submissive and quiet—“haath chhoot jaata hai,” they say.

Breaking down such patterns, Vatsalya says, “I perceive toxic masculinity as when men do not have the opportunity and space to express and explore the wholeness of masculinity. It therefore spills out in ways that are harmful, not just for themselves, but also for the people around them. They subjugate women by slapping them, and disallow other men from expressing their identity.”

She adds that masculinity should not immediately be implied to be toxic. “There are beautiful expressions of masculinity. It’s important to also see whether a person, irrespective of their gender, is in touch with their masculinity and femininity, both.”

The sexuality educator also highlights that toxic masculinity is not always gender-specific, women are often seen as gatekeepers of this mindset and behaviour. “Women also perpetuate this masculinity. So, these expressions of masculinity and femininity are gender-agnostic. If we then automatically move away from the notion that masculinity and femininity are equal to men and women respectively, we can then move away from the binary formula.”

In Kaalkoot, Saxena illustrated this point through the character of Rashmi. Envious of Parul’s beauty, confidence, and the attention she garners from men, Rashmi uploads Parul’s explicit pictures on an adult website and poses as her to talk to men. “One brute way would have been to cast Rashmi as someone who is oversized and has attention deficiency [from the opposite gender]. Instead, we showed her as an average-looking person, but who suffers from her own insecurities, which gave her [that vicious] personality,” explains Saxena.

Vatsalya agrees that misogyny stems from different markers and years of patriarchy, and makes us all victims. “The privilege of beauty is something we value. Unfortunately, it is based on how one appears, their body size, the complexion of their skin, and so on. Rashmi, like all of us, is victimized by the structure of patriarchy. We are raised with a scarcity mindset—we are taught constantly that women have few opportunities, we are fighting for the same few jobs and the same few men. We are taught and raised to be each other’s competition, and are not taught the values of sisterhood.”

The series, while offering commentary on society’s ills and prejudices, is equally cognisant of its protagonist’s shortcomings. Varma’s character calls off his marriage when he realizes that his fiancée has epilepsy. His anger stems from the fact that his fiancée hid the detail from him. As he evolves in the course of the narrative, he realises that he too harbours male entitlement and patriarchy—the very ideas that he claims to fight. Vatsalya, who is also a lawyer, explains this dichotomy.

“Nobody who is inflicting harm on another person is thinking of themselves necessarily as a perpetrator. They might be viewing themselves through a moralistic lens, and considering themselves the saviour or hero. Everyone is a hero in their own story, but they might be a villain in someone else’s story. When Vijay Varma’s character invites or rather tries to humiliate his fiancée by saying, ‘Have sex with me, then I will marry you,’ [he is using] sex and sexuality as a tool of control. This draws us back to [the clause of the ideal woman being a virgin]. The negotiations we make with patriarchy are not rational.”

Saxena and Vatsalya agree that the only way to combat misogyny or toxic masculinity is to have a constant dialogue about it, thus fighting our conditioning. The director asserts, “We must talk about whatever makes us uncomfortable. Clinical psychologist Jordan Peterson had noted that Voldemort in Harry Potter is called, ‘He who must not be named’. Why is that? Because the true nature of horror is unspeakable. So when you speak about the horror of life, it reduces [the conflict]. There is a sense of grim horror in the show. To end the horror, we must speak of it.”

Shweta Tripathi, Sumit Saxena and Apurupa Vatsalya

It was around when he was about six or seven, Shahid Kapoor recalls, his father Pankaj Kapur took him out to New Delhi’s popular food joint, Nirula’s, for a meal. Unbeknownst to what would hit them, the two were suddenly surrounded by “a hundred people, who’d picked up gajar [carrots], and were charging at them on their restaurant table—almost like zombies, going, Hehehe…. Gajar khaiye, gajar, hehehe…”

“Par mein bete ke saath pizza kha raha hoon [But I’m having pizza with my son],” Pankaj Kapur shot back. But no avail. The public was, of course, responding to Pankaj Kapur’s iconic role of Detective Karamchand, and his love for gajar, in the 1980s, on Doordarshan.

Father-son had to eventually rush out of Nirula’s. Shahid told his dad, who was visiting him from Bombay then, to never take him out again! “By virtue of distance, the interaction between him and me was anyway limited.”

Shahid’s parents had separated/divorced, when he was quite young. He was then growing up in Delhi, with his mother, Neelima Azeem, and his maternal grandparents, who were both journalists with the Russian publication, Sputnik.

Sasha, that’s the “ghar ka naam” his grandparents gave him—and that his tribe of fans, self-named Shanatics, call Shahid by—is also a common Russian name, he points out.

It was only when he turned 10, that Shahid also moved to Bombay to be with his mom, a trained classical/Kathak dancer, who was looking at a career in acting.

Shahid himself was one of the top dancers at Shiamak Davar’s dance academy—moving up from the back rows, at dance performances, to the front row, and eventually becoming a trainer at the institute, “which is how it works at Shiamak’s school; you have to prove yourself, every step of the way.”

In fact, if you notice closely, you can find Shahid dancing in the group in Subhash Ghai’s Taal (1999), even Yash Chopra’s Dil Toh Paagal Hai (1997). On stage, he was ecstatic to be “moving right behind Aishwarya Rai, Salman Khan, at popular award shows.” By 16, Shahid says, he was already earning enough to manage without pocket money from home, “even help out with the household income.”

A picture, from a trivia night, we show Shahid, is of him with actor Ayesha Takia. They’re both such lovely children, posing with coffee mugs to the TV screen. Shahid and Ayesha were the OG: “I’m a Complan boy, she’s a Complan girl!”

He laughs, “Ayesha was a really big [child] star at the time. We had to wait for her to turn up on the set, while I got my solo shots done!” But these were “one-off appearances on screen, because I was a cute kid, and someone or the other saw and cast me.” His mom was clear she didn’t want him to get full-time with commercial/advertising work still.

Cut to: 2003. Which is when I first met Shahid, seated quietly at the reception area of the mid-day newspaper office, in Lower Parel. A publicist had called to check if I might be free to say hi to a young kid he’d brought along. I was a young recruit/intern type at that office myself.

Having stepped out for a minute as a favour to the publicist, you could see other people quizzically wondering who this boy in their midst was. They had seen him somewhere, just not sure where.

“Back then, before there was social media, it used to take years for you to reach out to people. Now, it can happen in weeks and months,” Shahid recalls. The exact date for that first meet-up is not hard to figure. Shahid says his debut film, as lead, the teenage romcom, Ken Ghosh’s Ishq Vishk, released on May 9, 2003.

On that Friday, he’d excitedly gone over to Bombay’s Sterling cinema to watch himself on the big screen for the first time: “Between noon, and when the film finished, while I had just been around doing nothing, the people’s perception of me had totally changed. Barricades were put up. I was too young, at 23—which from an exposure point of view, is very different from how 23-year-olds are, now. And I thought, oh, wow, is this what stardom is?”

That ‘media round’ must’ve taken place a couple of days after. Which is almost exactly 20 years since, that we’re recording the episode of Sit with Hitlist, at the mid-day office again (this time in Bandra East).

Only that Shahid is full of confident banter that’s hard to reproduce in text—he’s a major Bollywood star (with over 50 releases to his credit). Having been through a “turbulent journey, of ups and downs”, and indeed a cracker, eclectic career—over those two decades.

Starting out as the ‘chocolate boy’ romantic lead (Ishq Vishk to Jab We Met), graduating to a more action/masala hero (Bloody Daddy, his last release), and even layered parts, whether on the big screen (Kaminey to Kabir Singh), or OTT platforms/series (Farzi).

Even at the beginning of his stint, young Shahid never introduced himself as son of the great Pankaj Kapur. We might have seen him differently. It was a conscious, self-respecting call he had taken—of making it on his own.

For four years, Shahid remembers, between age 18 and 22, he’d simply been incessantly screen-testing for parts: “I like the word ‘struggler’, they use [only] for aspiring actors. It’s true. It’s a life full of rejections. Four years means about 1,200 days—and I would have easily given about 200 auditions.”

None of those films apparently made anybody’s career, so he’s glad for it. One of which, Shahid says, he rejected himself—N Chandra’s Style (2001), because he was clear, even at that age, that he would debut only as the solo-lead.

It’s another matter, he says, that once Ishq Vishk did well, commercially—he was considered too young for producers to cast opposite existing, established female leads: “They’d rattle out names of three-four popular, female stars, and say, ‘You’ll look like a kid with them! Where’s your ‘mardaangi’ [manliness]? There was no work for my age-bracket, and for the way I looked.”

Also, he submits, there was a perception in Bollywood at the time, that a star was born, at best, only once every half a decade: “And Hrithik [Roshan] had already become huge [with Kaho Naa... Pyaar Hai] in 2000. Vivek Oberoi quickly followed [with Company] in 2002. So, apparently [by law of averages], I didn’t stand a chance!”

Of course, all these rules are assumptive. They fail in the face of public choice, which is impossible to predict. Another such rule I point out to Shahid is how, when it comes to a loyal female following—the credibility built from a particular film cements it so much for a male lead sometimes, it can easily lead last them a lifetime.

Take Ryan Gosling, for instance. Take The Notebook (2004) out of his filmography. And he wouldn’t garner half the female fans that’s stuck around him since. Likewise, with Shah Rukh Khan, and Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995). The connect is irreversible. The persona sustains. I wonder if it’s the same relationship with the female demographic that Shahid attained with Imtiaz Ali’s Jab We Met (2007), first. He says, “I know Jab We Met gets a lot of credit [as it should]. But let’s not forget Vivah [2006]. It was a small-budget film—by the legendary [producers] Barjatyas’ standards.”

“Their [more expensive film, with modern sensibilities] Main Prem Ki Diwani Hoon had just failed. Sooraj [Barjatya] and his father [Raj Kumar Barjatya] were planning to do a movie, with new actors, to test their original, traditional lower middle-class audiences/sensitivities. Vivaah is the last Indian movie to do a ‘silver jubilee’ (25-week run in theatres),” Shahid claims. 

Audiences like me, of course, remember him more for Vishal Bhardwaj’s Kaminey (2009)—decidedly from the dark side of the moon, which was as diametrically a U-turn for his onscreen image.

We wonder how different could it be to be on a Barjatya set, over Bhardwaj’s: “Chalk and cheese. Vishal doesn’t like anything sweet. He’d keep asking me to go ‘kamina’. Sooraj would want me to throw way all city [slicker] influences, and be sweet. It’s schizophrenic [to be on both sets]!”

As for Imtiaz Ali, Shahid recalls, “He was a new director, when he came to me. The first thing that struck me was how good-looking he was, himself, [lost] in his dreamy thoughts. Then the fact that he narrated out of a bound script, which wasn’t common. Back then, you heard a 30 to 40-minute narration that the director would then develop, if you said yes [to it].

“The script had ‘Geet’ written on it. I asked him, ‘What does this mean?’ He said that’s the heroine’s name. I told him, ‘The next time you go to a hero—don’t go with a script with the heroine’s name on it!’

The next time, he came to me with the same script, he had ‘The Train’ written on it,” Shahid laughs.

Eventually they settled on Jab We Met, because big daddy Pankaj Kapur came up with the title over dinner: “I was telling him about how I want an English-Hindi mixed title, and what the story was about.

He said, call it Jab We Met.” Which was one of the titles entered into a public poll held by a newspaper. “The other was Bhatinda Express. The third one I don’t recall. People picked Jab We Met!”

As for his female following—evidenced from the fact that this conversation itself is being recorded with an all-women audience—Shahid attributes much to his more recent, by far the biggest hit of his career, Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s Kabir Singh (2019), as well.

The film was a scene-by-scene remake of Arjun Reddy in Telugu, by the same director. So Shahid knew exactly what he was walking into—the part of a drug-addled abusive boyfriend, that remains his most controversial yet. So much so that it’s been four years, and he feels the need to defend it still.

He says, “There were so many people refusing to accept that people are liking the film. I was like, ‘Arey bhai, logon ko acchi lag rahi hai, tum log baithe ho apni [high] chair mein—suggesting, how dare you like the film? Well, accept it.”

He’s also willing to engage on the criticism. Which is perhaps not that people were refusing to acknowledge the commercial numbers/footfalls. But that the film was about the sort of character, who may exist in real life, surely. But who was instead being lauded as a hero of sorts. That was the issue that some people may have had with arguably a misogynist subject.

Shahid disagrees, “Well, Kabir slaps the girl [Kiara Advani]. She slaps him back. But when he slaps her, it is so shocking that it stays with you, and it disturbs you, right? Everything that happens to him after in his life, is a downward spiral. Until the last moment when somehow, the girl agrees to be with him! He is a complete mess. A very cinematic character. It is like Taxi Driver, or Scarface.”

The deranged Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) in Taxi Driver ultimately kills himself, though. “Kabir Singh is actually about how everyone should get a second chance. In love, who hasn’t messed up? And if you see it, right from the promo—at no point is it being said that he is a great guy.”

“I’m nothing like him. But as an actor, it’s my job to play different characters. You don’t have to like him. You should like my performance. He’s not the hero. He’s the protagonist.”

Which can be said of Shahid’s equally messed up, Punjabi hip-hop star, Tommy Singh, from Abhishek Chaubey’s Udta Punjab (2016). What did he find in common between both the characters?

“Nothing, besides that they are both Singhs,” Shahid laughs. “There is a scene [in Udta Punjab], where Tommy says that he’s never done anything for anyone else. And that he must [for Alia Bhatt’s character]. He’s been completely self-centred. Which is how he’s different from Kabir, who gives it all [for his love]. And she’s nice enough to have him back. Love stories must end with a note of hope.”

The other thing common between Tommy and Kabir is, of course, that they are both substance abusers, isn’t it? “Yes.” Played by an actor, who’s a sworn vegan, and teetotaler! It’s something you don’t associate with movie-stars still. “You can call me boring, I don’t mind,” Shahid smiles.

The other thing unusual for a movie star is getting into an arranged marriage, which is what Shahid made as a life-decision, when he married young Mira Rajput, in 2015.

“Well, if you’d asked me then, I’d have said arranged marriages don’t make sense to me, either. But it happened [organically].” He says they met through family: “We were part of the same spiritual group that I was obviously aware of. She was all of 20 years old. I was 34. I was a little embarrassed [about that].

“But I was really looking for someone who could understand both aspects of my life—the spiritual side, and that I’m an actor [a public figure]. She was genuinely interested in figuring me out as a person. And you can tell, when these things are real. She was not affected [by my profession].”

The first time they got on the phone, Shahid remembers, they spoke for seven hours straight. He knew he’d found the one. He feels the same way about her family, that he treats as his own: “They’re very classy, and sorted people.”

During the two years of the pandemic, Shahid says, he stayed over with his in-laws’ throughout, in a place called Dera, in Punjab: “We had reached there, just three days before the lockdown got announced.”

A few years back, Shahid had recounted to us a trigger point on this aspect of his life. He’d been single for a while. He was returning home, alone, having had won the Filmfare Award for Vishal Bhardwaj’s Haider (2014).

That big night, he slept with his statuette. Acknowledging a thing amiss, that he must do something about: “I felt the need for a companion. But even then, I didn’t know I’d find a perfect life-partner. It’s tough.”

Up until then, you could describe Shahid as ‘seriously monogamous’: “I had always been that guy in my 20s—in long, settled relationships.” The other aspect that early success in showbiz thankfully affords the young is a rich, rockstar life, when you’re merely in the 20s. Sports stars are similarly privileged. I’m sure that must’ve been a legit high, before he decided to proverbially settle down.

“It’s a stupid high,” Shahid explains. “So, I’d go and buy myself a fancy sports car, and then I would feel like, ‘Why did I do this? Now, I am broke, again!’ You’re a little stupid in your 20s—making stupid choices, and then you blame other things. When I look back, I’m like, ‘Okay, I should have made better choices, I would have been more comfortable, yar!’”

Which is to say, “I also didn’t have time for anything—too busy holding on to my position [professionally], working on the set 240 days of the year; let alone promoting my films thereafter.”

How about dating the hottest women in Bollywood, though—surely that’s a great perk of being a star into only life’s second decade, when most others are busy moving up from the low rank/station, attempting a half-decent living!

Shahid isn’t particularly impressed/nostalgic by that reminiscence: “See, at the end of the day, you are dating good-looking women. But you are also considered desirable, and good-looking, right?

“So, it is not something that you are getting three levels above your own league! I mean, there were enough women interested in me as well, right?” Spoken truly with that feisty swag of a 20-something!

Looks apart, going by talent from pedigree alone—as a star performer, doubtlessly, Shahid has picked up his dancing skills from the mother, and acting prowess from the father. He’s quick to point out here,

“I was more happy about getting my hair from my mom, and acting chops from dad! I was like, ‘Dad, I don’t want your hair!’

“He was semi-bald at 30, and he used to keep messing with me saying, ‘I’m an actor, I can play all kinds of characters. Abhi toh tu hero ban gaya hai, agar tere baal udd gaye toh tujhe kaam hi nahi milega [You’ve become a star. Now if you lose your hair, you’ll get no work!].’ He used to mess with me, dude!”

Much as the father and son couldn’t have had a more separate career graph, from the looks of it, Shahid did indeed imbibe the ambition of gaining respect as an actor from Pankaj Kapur. It’s part of his natural training.

“I’d seen all my father’s film, growing up—whether that be Rui Ka Bojh [1997] or Ek Doctor Ki Maut [1990]. Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro [1983] is, of course, one of my favourite films ever.”

The two collaborated most ambitiously as actor-director, in fact. Wherein Pankaj Kapur debuted as filmmaker with Mausam (2011), starring Shahid in the lead. They’d produced the film as well—charting a story as wide in scale as The Gone with the Wind, no less.

This was around the time, Shahid says, that he’d himself gone through a makeover, in terms of how he’d go about his career goals.

“I was done with walking into a set, being given dialogues to perform right there, and carrying on. I wanted to approach films with a sense of commitment, and had chosen to work in one project a year.” Which is the time and energy he spent on Mausam, along with his father, who spent over year and half on it.

“But we realized, that’s not how everyone else works. And so, while the film was in production, others had moved on. We were finding it hard to match dates [with cast/crew]. Even when I saw the film’s final cut, I knew this was not going to land [well]. It wasn’t the film that my father had envisioned.” Mausam bombed at the box-office, causing a career setback for Shahid, to start with.

One of the things, it appears, that Shahid regrets about stardom is the sort of time it takes to finally get a hang of the system: “By the time you know exactly what’s going on, you’ve already lost eight to 10 years. When you come from a [mainstream] film family, on the other hand, you’ve experienced much, up, close and personal, already.” That’s the advantage, he says, his half-brother, young Ishaan Khatter, has.

Having grown up under the wings of Shahid: “He’s watched me and my choices closely, and always had an opinion on it. For instance, he wouldn’t like me in a [Dil Bole] Hadippa, but totally love me in Kaminey. As an elder brother, you sort of become the guy riding the motorcycle, with him on the back seat!”

Having seen all his films, it would be fair to suggest some of Shahid’s early script-sense could be befuddling, at best. For instance, I point out, what could have made him sign up for a pic like Paathshala (2010), that I remember wondering the same, even while watching it: “That was a friend who asked me to give him seven days of my life, and he badly needed it.” All choices have a reason.

Consider Prabhu Dheva’s R… Rajkumar (2013), and Rajkumar Santoshi’s Phata Poster Nikhla Hero (2013), that Shahid hit the screens with, soon after Mausam hadn’t worked, theatrically.

“That was [me seeking] commercial success. If you’re not successful, you actually have no power to make any choices. So, you just have to get successful, first. It’s simple. R… Rajkumar, in fact, did well. And Phata Poster did not.”

From a film industry POV, he looks at movies very differently, Shahid concedes. Namely, you need films of all palette to march on as an industry: “What I don’t get is people who can only make dosas saying, that those who eat burgers, are no good. That’s not how it works. I stay away from such people.”

And it’s not that commercial success, or massive footfalls, is the only criterion, surely. Soon after the release of Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s blockbuster, Padmaavat (2018), there were news reports suggesting Shahid wasn’t pleased with his own presence in the pic, along with Deepika Padukone and Ranveer Singh, who evidently stole the show. Was there any merit to these assertions?

He candidly admits, “It’s true. Everyone was lovely in that film. And I don’t want to get into details. But I kept thinking, ‘Why did I do this film?’ I had no perspective. And I don’t want to blame anybody.”

Which also relates to insecurities that come naturally with an actor’s mercurial job? To take another example of published reports, there was one about how Shahid didn’t get along with co-star Kangana Ranaut, during the making of Vishal Bhardwaj’s Rangoon (2017). True?

“Not true. I got along fine with Kangana. She’s a fine actor.” Long pause. Okay, that is a long pause. “What do I say? You’re not asking me anything else. You’re talking about insecurities, looking in from the outside into an actor’s life. But it may not be [those] insecurities. There are so many things that can be there, if first of all, there is a problem!”

Which is fair. And being a star, as against a professional actor alone, inevitably involves media scrutiny—as part of the job, even if an occupational hazard, on occasion. Surely, over two decades of being right at the centre of Bombay showbiz, has come with its own potholes.

The one story I remember concerning Shahid, and in fact mid-day—shortly after we met first at the newspaper’s office reception—were a series of paparazzi pictures that the tabloid had published in 2004, starring Shahid and his girlfriend then, taken at a Juhu nightclub, Rain.

Those pictures were clicked by a bunch of kids randomly hanging around in the nightclub, with a digital camera. There were no feature-phones with cameras at the time.

Those juvenile delinquents arrived at the mid-day office, demanding Rs 500 for the set of blurry but innocuous images/video of Shahid, kissing, in love, evidently. Unmindful of possible minders around.

I wonder what that did to Shahid, once those pictures appeared, in what became a big, salacious, tabloid story. Which was hardly a big deal though, if you look at it objectively, rather than voyeuristically.

“Of course, it was a big deal. Let’s be honest—putting out pictures like that would get you a lot of eyeballs. That’s the honest truth of it. It’s okay. You know, we all take it with a pinch of salt. But what was your question, again?”

The question was, what did he feel about it, when that happened, then? I don’t think he’s spoken about it in all these years.

“Oh, I was destroyed at the time. I was just 24 years old, a kid. I felt my privacy had been invaded, and I could do nothing to protect it. I was a mess. At that age, especially—because you don’t even know your own feelings. You are figuring out how to be with a girl you are dating. And in the middle of all that, this happens…”

What’s changed with stardom and the media landscape since, of course, is that practically everyone is with a smart phone, making videos, pictures, selfies in public. Shahid, 42, reasons, “Now, you are aware that [a paparazzi snap] like that is 100 percent going to happen. At that time, we were caught off guard by it.

“So, that is like an informed devil, as opposed to an uninformed-devil scenario, then. You at least know, ‘Yeh toh hone wala hi hai. Also, ab toh meri shaadi ho gayi hai, bacche ho gaye hain (Now, I’m married with kids). Nobody is interested in those things about me. They have other 24-year-olds to focus on.”

Karan Johar has a knack for bringing out celebrities’ candid side on Koffee with Karan. It stands true for his upcoming episode as well that sees Kiara Advani grace the couch with actor-friend Shahid Kapoor. While the two had delivered a smashing hit in Kabir Singh (2019), Advani revealed that they did not quite start off on a great note during the film’s shoot. Reason — Kapoor apparently made her wait for hours before filming a scene.

In a segment of the Disney+ Hotstar offering, she recollects how she “bi**h-slapped Shahid” in her head. “It was my third or fourth day of shooting. I was made to wait for eight hours because there was a discussion on what shoes Shahid would wear in the next scene,” she exclaims.

Surprised at the anecdote, the filmmaker-host sided with Advani, saying, “If I were made to wait for eight hours for a discussion on shoes, I would bi**h-slap too.” Advani, who is said to be dating Sidharth Malhotra, also opened up on her love life on the chat show, admitting that the two are “more than good friends.”