Few composer duos in Hindi cinema today straddle madness and melody as deftly as Sachin–Jigar. Over the past decade, they’ve swung between quirky tracks like Kamariya, romantic numbers like Mileya Mileya, and chartbusters like Aaj Ki Raat. Ahead of their latest outing, Param Sundari, the duo talks about their mindset, music, and their tribute to the master. Excerpts from the interview.

Sachin: It is destiny. We never sat in business meetings to plan this partnership — it just happened. I first met Jigar to share some workload, and there’s no way two people living so far apart could’ve just decided to become a jodi. It feels like something beyond us put us together. Let me give you a recent anecdote: I needed Jigar not just as my business partner but as family, and he came through for me. That’s when I realised I admire him beyond music. He’s five years younger but has this politeness, manners, and ability to communicate that I really look up to. He’s also the rebel in our duo, the one who pushes.

Jigar: The common thread between all of us is that we’re mad but sane enough to know that we’re mad! Otherwise, who decides to make a song “Baba Ji Ki Booti”? And when we did that track, everyone sang — Raj, DK, Anand, Kunal, me. Whoever was in the room. None of us was in it for stability. I think it’s that madness that connects us and keeps us together.

Sachin: Jigar doesn’t sleep — and he doesn’t let anyone else sleep either! (laughs) For him, the moment a song works, that gate is closed. He won’t allow us to repeat ourselves in the same way. That forces us to think differently, and that’s why we’ve managed to stay versatile. For me, that success gave me a certain ease. I’ve lived through the struggle of not finding popularity, so to be on the other side feels nice. But we were never in the game for just hits or flops. We came here to make good music, and even after success, that hasn’t changed.

Our mantra is never to define a “Sachin–Jigar sound.” We don’t want people to say, this is exactly what they always do. We move on, leave that sound behind, and try something new. If others want to pick it up, great. If not, no problem. That’s why after Stree 2, we thought, okay, we’ve done the madness in Stree, we’ve done dance numbers, now how do we break out again? That’s how Param Sundari happened. It’s become an unplanned pattern with us — one big dance number, then one big love song, then something unexpected.

Jigar : We’re also conscious of not getting typecast as “the commercial dance anthem guys.” So if we’ve just done a massive dance track, next time we’ll want to balance it with a love song or something soulful.

Sachin: A day before Jigar and I flew to Dubai for the Param Sundari music session, Dinesh Vijan called us to his office and told us this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Instantly, [A R] Rahman sir started playing in my head. Roja [1992] changed my life forever — if I’m a composer today, it’s because of those five years of listening to him. So working on Param Sundari felt like living a dream.

Jigar: South Indian music has also inspired us a lot because it stays rooted in its culture. Even in the most commercial films, you’ll hear classical influences. I trained in classical singing for 10–12 years, and often had to “unlearn” some of it to compose for cinema. But “Param Sundari” brought everything we wanted together, it felt like a dream we didn't want to wake up from. As for Sonu Nigam: growing up, albums like Yaad, Deewana, Jaan were my everyday listening. First it was a dream to see him live, then to hear him sing songs we produced. The first track we ever programmed was sung by Sonu Nigam. That was already a big moment.

But as composers, we never got to record him again. We always kept it inside us. One day, we have to make a tune worthy of his voice. I was such a huge fan, I would literally pray to him before going to school! (laughs) So when we composed Param Sundari, we both knew deep down: this is it. We didn’t even say it out loud to each other, but we knew this was the song for Sonu Nigam.

We called him, he heard it, came to the studio, and recorded it in half an hour. It was magical. For us, it’s the greatest tribute — to have the man who inspired us be part of our music. Recently, he called and told us how much love he’s receiving for the song. To hear that from your idol — that’s the biggest moment of the year.

Jigar: Definitely the latter. That’s not our job. Once we put our music out, it belongs to the audience. As fellow creators, we may form opinions, but as listeners, people have the right to completely own or dismiss what we make.

We learned early in our careers to detach ourselves from the fate of a song. It hurts when a track you love doesn’t do well, but once you release it, it’s no longer yours. You’ve shot the arrow, and it’s out in the world. What feels “good” to me might not land with someone else, and that’s okay. So yes, we’ve made peace with it. Especially today, when there’s such great indie music and such strong new artists coming through, we’re not greedy. We just try to give our best and then leave it to the universe.

Jigar: Many times! One example is Happy Ending [2014]. The album actually caught on months later. At release, it didn’t get the traction we hoped for, though we felt it was a true coming-of-age album in terms of sound and concept. The first song, Jee Phaad Ke, generated noise, but the other tracks didn’t bloom immediately. And because once a producer sees one song breaking through, he’ll naturally invest all his energy and money into pushing that one, the rest often get sidelined. We always believed the album would find its way — and it did, but very late. There are other examples too. A beautiful song like Pinjra Tod Ke in Simran, or Hoor in Hindi Medium with Atif Aslam. We thought they’d immediately catch on. They didn’t at first, but later people came back to them, and now they even request us to perform them on shows.

Sachin: It’s a part of the game. That’s why having the first song of an album break through is actually a huge victory. Because imagine if you’re waiting until the fourth track for something to click — by then the producer may lose hope, and the entire album can collapse.

Jigar: For us, every film’s music carries big stakes. Actors want to be seen in a good light, producers are investing heavily, directors have worked hard. If the first song doesn’t land, there’s panic. And in those moments, you have to put art aside and think practically: we have to make this work. When the first track works, it also gives us the liberty to experiment with the rest of the album. For example, because Stree worked, we could make Stree 2 completely different — even put a ghazal on a beat. That was a risk, and it only happened because the first one clicked. So yes, we’ve learned that “first song tracking” is the safer and better place to be in, even if the others don’t explode in the same way.

Sachin: Dinesh is extremely critical of his own work, and Amitabh Bhai is the same. He’ll come back after six days to change just one word in the last line of an antara, or fight with us about a line even before a shoot mix is delivered. That level of self-criticism keeps the bar high.

The truth is, at the end of the day, no matter how many aspirations or ideas we all come in with, there’s only one song to be made. That perspective keeps us grounded. We keep checking each other.

Dinesh loves to experiment — he’ll come to us with a reference, or say, “Here’s this Afro-inspired song, can we make it a love track?” He’s always hustling, always infusing new ideas. Jigar, as I’ve said, is the rebel — he refuses to repeat himself, and he shares a bond with Dinesh that goes beyond work, which makes them almost like brothers.

Jigar: For me, I try to stay objective, to keep perspective when things get too passionate. And Amitabh Bhai has this magical ability to bring in a word or phrase that sparks a whole song. Among the four of us, someone always has the starting point.

Because this unit has delivered before, we have the courage to keep pushing further — to take one more risk, one more step. The balance of being able to check each other and push each other is what keeps us both grounded and moving forward.

Also, we’ve been through failures together — films that didn’t work, songs that vanished without a trace. That’s why now, even if something doesn’t work, it doesn’t shake the association. Our bond isn’t dependent on hits. It’s dependent on whether we’ve fulfilled each other’s creative soul. If between the four of us, we’ve inspired and satisfied each other creatively, then that’s success,  no matter how far the song travels.

Sachin: Never. From the beginning, this song came from a place of pure art, dedication, and a tribute to the master. For us, it’s a matter of pride if one of our songs even gets compared to his work. I look up to Rahman sir not just for his work, but for the person he is. On the inlay card of his first independent album [Vande Mataram], he wrote: ‘Hope to become the song of an independent India.’ That’s the man we’re paying homage to.

Jigar: When people say Param Sundari feels familiar, for us, familiarity isn’t bad. Familiarity can make you feel at home, and once you’re there, you can surprise the listener with new things hidden inside.

While the Salman Khan and Katrina Kaif-starrer Tiger 3 is a fitting action-packed instalment of the long-running spy franchise, the film opened to mixed reviews from both critics and the audience. While the action has been lauded, the story, not so much. It didn’t sit well with many that Pakistan has been showcased as a peace-loving country. When questioned, Simran, who plays the role of Nasreen Irani, the Prime Minister of Pakistan, counters, saying that the idea of the film is to “give hope and spread positivity”.

“Humanity comes first, even before the boundaries that we have drawn and made different countries. When women and children are killed [in the name of war], humanity dies. [In the film], Tiger goes on to save another country’s PM, at the cost of his family and his life. I think we all have a Tiger within us somewhere. If we want to give people some hope, we have to fight to save humanity. Then the boundaries don’t matter.”

The actor, who was last seen in the R Madhavan-starrer Rocketry: The Nambi Effect and Manoj Bajpayee’s Gulmohar, is thrilled to be part of the Yash Raj Films franchise. “The role came with a huge responsibility. A lot of research and prep went into it before we began shooting. Even if there is just a paragraph of dialogue, it can’t be uttered randomly. It has to be imbibed, understood, and conveyed with authenticity,” says the actor, adding that she was honoured to play such an important part in the film.

Tiger 3 completes a hattrick for her in Hindi cinema. Next up, Simran has Shonali Bose’s Notorious Girls with Revathy and Nandita Das. She has also wrapped up the shoot for director duo Raj-DK’s Citadel with Varun Dhawan and Samantha. While the Hindi projects are yet to hit the screen, Simran is looking forward to seeing people’s reactions to her action scenes in Dhruva Natchathiram with Vikram, which releases on November 24. Unlike Tiger 3, in the Tamil film, Simran plays “an agent working for a cause”.

Having worked with the Ponniyin Selvan star in last year’s Mahaan, she says, “Vikram is a versatile actor. He undergoes drastic transformations for his characters and gives it his all. It is always great working with a determined actor like him.”

It has opened to rave reviews, but the other thing that Gulmohar is drawing viewers across sections of the audience with, are the characters of its leading ladies, Kusum and Indu. If the former, played by Sharmila Tagore, is all things grace — the latter, essayed by Simran, is the picture of tenderness and tenacity. With her compelling turn in the family drama, the actor, who’s a household name in Tamil and Telugu films, seems to have finally got nationwide recognition.

Ever since she first sat down for a narration with Gulmohar director Rahul V Chittella three years ago, she has had her heart set on the character. At 47, “having experienced life to an extent”, she felt confident of bringing the necessary gravitas to Indu Batra. She notes, “We’ve hardly portrayed the strength of a homemaker on screen. Indu is one such woman. She gives strength to every person in her life, and has the experience of a lifetime.”

Having said that, the actor — who burst upon the Hindi scene with Tere Mere Sapne (1996) — took on roles that called for maturity even very early on in her career. “When you play certain roles in life, they spill over to performances too. There are some roles you research for. Some are a reflection of your own life. I’ve been very choosy about my work — it has to fit in with my personal life and schedule… I was lucky to work with directors who wrote [female] characters well.”

Like for Indu, family comes first for Simran, who has lived and worked in Mumbai, Delhi and Chennai. Until recently, her sons travelled with her when she was working. The actor believes that having to shift schools and cities has given them a “solid education on life”.

Fame still sits lightly on her — a lesson she says she learnt early on. “In my head, fame equals hard work. The love that you get, that’s for the work you put in… It’s easier when you’re yourself off screen and not a version of what people expect you to be,” she signs off.

Filmmaker Hansal Mehta has spoken up again about his fallout with actor Kangana Ranaut when they collaborated on the film Simran in 2017. When asked if Ranaut took over Simran’s edit, the 54-year-old tells Mashable India, “Edit nahin, takeover kia tha usne. But edit takeover karne ke liye kuchh tha nahin kyunki material hi wohi tha jo usne shoot karwaya tha. She is a very talented actor, who, I feel, has limited herself by making films about herself.”

He goes on to speak about her song from her latest film, Dhaakad, titled She’s On Fire. Mehta says, “Abhi kuchh gaana aaya uska… She is a woman on fire… you are basically talking about yourself. You know these are things you aspire for yourself, you put it there. It’s not even my place to criticize what choices she makes. She’s a big star, even today and she is a very good actor, I maintain that and working with her, we didn’t gel. Working with her was a massive mistake (sic).”

A day after Joe Biden was elected to the White House, National Award-winning director Hansal Mehta recalled the pall of gloom on the sets of Simran when, four years ago, Donald Trump, the man he defeated, was voted the 45th President of America. “Some cried, some were just silent,” he recounts, imagining smiles on those faces today as a long dark night comes to an end. “Unfortunately, I’ve lost touch with many of them, but there is an American actor, Timothy Ryan Hickernell, who also played Daniel Pearl in Omerta, who I know is celebrating. Tim messaged me, saying, ‘We’ve won, baby.’ My daughters are US citizens, so the politics there concerns me since whoever is getting elected is their President,” he reasons.

Does he see himself making a film on the political battle that had the world riveted for weeks, you wonder, and Hansal points out that if he came across a personal story with US politics in the backdrop, he might be tempted. “I am always driven by a story, for instance it was Rajkummar’s (Rao) character that took me into the small-town world of my soon-to-release film Chhalaang,” he says, adding that, for now, he’s hoping the results will positively impact the world. “We’ve spent too much time dealing with the lack of dignity and polarisation. It’s time the language of politics changes and the world gets more united”.

For him personally, it’s encouraging that those who would constantly bicker with him online, are enjoying his recent series even while they still differ with him politically. “That proves that stories have the power to unify and heal. And I am happy I am telling these stories at a time when the world needs to heal,” he exults.

His next, Chhalaang, is a slice-oflife story of a small-town PT teacher played by Rajkummar, the computer teacher, Nushrratt Bharuccha, who steals his heart, and a new competitor, Zeeshan Ayyub who enters the field and pushes him to new highs. Comedy is not a genre Hansal normally favours, but a phone call from producer Luv Ranjan, who was shooting a film in London then, pushed him into exploring a fun space which, he is quick to add, is more “feel good than slapstick”. “Most of the subjects of my films come from me and I work closely with the writers. But Luv had already written this story and though I’ve never asked him why he thought of me to direct it, since we had never met before, when we did interact, I found him to be a sensible guy, with his own understanding of cinema, but open to ideas. So, I decided to go with his judgement. Like its title, Chhalaang was a leap of faith for me too,” Hansal chuckles wryly.

Pointing out that this Diwali will be a difficult one, with Covid-19 curtailing celebrations, the maker is happy to bring a film the whole family can watch together. “This is the first time my daughters will get to watch a film of mine with the rest of the family since all the others have had adult themes,” he informs happily. Will he be joining them? “No, once a film is delivered, I rarely watch my work. I may revisit it after a few years.”

Has he watched Simran, which was shot in the US, after its release, and wished that they’d stuck to the original script? “I did revisit the film on a flight once, but I haven’t revisited the original script. I don’t remember much, I’ve erased Simran from my memory,” Hansal says shortly. The film had driven a wedge between his frequent collaborator, editor and Aligarh writer, Apurva Asrani, and him. Have they sat down since with plans to collaborate on another film? “No. Never say never, but as of now, no,” he retorts. And Kangana Ranaut? With another “No,” he firmly shuts the door on Simran.

Interestingly, the pandemic has been a busy time for Hansal who was editing a nine-hour series (Scam 1992) along with the post-production of Chhalaang. The series has made him proud, both of his son, Jai, who was the co-director, and Gujarati stage and film actor, Pratik Gandhi, the latter reminding him of Rajkummar during their first collaboration, Shahid, which bagged both of them National Awards. “Rajkummar has evolved into a fine actor with some wonderful choices. Pratik has had a longer gestation period, but is coming into his own now. It’s gratifying to work with actors of such calibre, the industry needs such talent to tell good stories,” he avers, pointing out that success has brought a sense of recklessness in him. “There’s this need to go out and shoot because so many ideas have been flooding my mind in the last few months. There are so many stories I want to tell and so little time because I want to make more films, many more.”

So, what’s next? “There was a film I was to kick off in March. I’ve been revisiting it with my writers. There are a couple of other things too. Maybe the anthology will begin first,” he muses. Anubhav Sinha, Sudhir Mishra, Ketan Mehta, Subhash Kapoor and Hansal have joined hands to make five 25-minute films which will be part of an anthology on the common subject of the Coronavirus pandemic. “Mine is more of a comedy; I’ve begun to enjoy this genre now. I’m ready to shoot; we are just trying to find the right location. It will roll in the coming month and we will mostly shoot in Gujarat. But for now, you can just leap into Chhalaang with me,” he signs off. with a laugh.

In a mince-no-words conversation with Bombay Times, ahead of the release of her upcoming film Simran, Kangana Ranaut bares her mind on Bollywood and battles -fought within and outside. Excerpts...

When Rangoon did not take off, there was some visible happiness. That a Kangana movie did not work. Now isn't that a benchmark of having arrived? When people are waiting for a flop to come and are happy when it does?
Yeah, it's a celebration!

Does it feel like I'm vindicated, my losses also draw attention?
No, you know, the thing is, with Rangoon, I knew the stakes were very high. And Rangoon flopping, I knew there is a set of people who are going to come out with their daggers and stab me to death, in a way ... So I knew this. It was my biggest nightmare, my biggest fear, that if Rangoon flops, what will happen to me? And when it did, every nightmare came true. People were just waiting for this to happen. There was a time when my phone was ringing all the time, there was so much. And they all came together. And to my surprise, when I survived that, the rush that you feel, that's when I felt - if my worst fear cannot do anything, what is there for me to worry about? So now I feel like this unchained beast, because this is the limit of my enemies. All the controversies, all the... And to add to that my accidents, to add to that how my film (on Rani Lakshmibai) was struggling financially, the film I was supposed to do with Ketan Mehta didn't get any financiers. And then he came with a lawsuit and then the nepotism debate went abroad and... So for me, like, when all this happened and I survived that, now I honestly don't fear anything. What will you do to me now? Nothing! There's nothing you can do to me now, because everything that can go wrong did go wrong, and here I am, completely perfectly happy in my own world.

What have your hits taught you, what have your flops taught you?
My hits have taught me nothing. When a film flops, there is a lot of learning. Post a failure, you're heading to big success. But success is a result of the learnings from failures. If I have succeeded in a film like Queen, it's a result of eight years' failures. But Queen in itself didn't teach me any thing. Celebration in itself has no learning to it.

If those eight years had not been a tough ride, would you have been the person you are today, if you had a hit to start off with?
No, no way! And I wouldn't want to change it for anything. Because of course when I started out, I didn't know I wanted to be an actress. But when I became an actress, like anyone else, I wanted an easy life, I wanted to be in the Yash Raj camp and the Dharma camp and be doing Khan films when I was an 18-year-old. Of course I wanted all of that. And because it didn't happen, I realised that the real treasure is not something that someone can give you... you don't want to be the moon who is reflecting light from others, because when everyone's gone, you have your darkness to live with. You want to be like the sun, you want to give light, not just borrow light from people.

Somewhere, people feel that an individual's struggle is about the individual and the world. My struggle is about me. My struggle did not start with the point that I want to show the world who I am. Because I did not know in the first place, who I am, who I was. So my struggle was 'I want to find out who I am'. Because what I was told as an individual, by my family, and the limited impression of mine that people had, even growing up ­ that didn't ring true. Being physically less capable than a man, being emotionally or financially always dependent on a man... I didn't speak English. None of the women from our family have a success story to brag about, so even I can't have it... yes, it does make sense, nobody has made it so far, why would you? But then there is a feeling within you which tells you otherwise. So that's the struggle - between the facts and the feeling.

How often do you end up Googling yourself?
These days, quite a lot (laughs)! Because there are, like I said, a hundred people, a hundred opinions, and I have a digital team, so of course they keep sending me links, asking, 'do you want to give a reaction?' Or they keep telling me, 'don't react to this'. Most people think when you are an actor, you should stick to your business, but I see myself more like a personality, than an actor. So just the movie is never my agenda, never has been.

What is your agenda?
Most people expect me to be like, now that you're promoting your movie, just stick to your business. But the point is, who are you to tell me what my business is? If I am entirely here only for movies then why did I reject Khan films? Why don't I care to work with Karan Johar? Why don't I go get awards, if just that's my business? But I don't care about my business, can't you tell? So who are you to tell me what my business should be? I am here in the capacity of a woman, and my personality as a woman is a lot more valuable to me than the business of my films. Like I've said no to Rs 300-crore films. It's not like they became Rs 300-crore films and I regret it, they were always Rs 300 crore on paper also. I mean, can't you tell that I really don't care about the business of my films? Especially, like I said, after I hit rock bottom and realised that actually, it really doesn't matter, because people have loved me as an individual. So I have to make sure that when somebody points a finger at your character as a woman, you've got to respond to that. You can't be like, oh, I'm an actor, in my capacity I should just be promoting my film. I would never respect anyone who is so calculative in life, who can't rise above the status of the business and the method of marketing. It's a horrible thing to tell somebody that now that you're promoting your film... what is a film? In the scheme of things, tell me, what is a film? I've given so many hit films, today they're not even relevant. Who are you to tell me I should only be bothered about my film? What is a film? A film is nothing. I already have four offers...

I wonder what people involved in your movies think of that take...
No, but like I said, I already have four offers. It's not even relevant to them either. I am an actor, I'll get a job regardless. So anyone who thinks that a profession is above one's character and dignity is just an idiot who doesn't know how to live life. Life is not about tricks and techniques. Life is about finding yourself, and finding peace with that.

The thing is, see, what is the definition of success? I want to ask a successful person. If you are crawled in your little hell hole, and you do not have a voice, you're shit scared of losing whatever little you have earned in life, you are the most unsuccessful person in life. I want to tell these people that I've made this conscious decision that I set out to just discover myself and be like... you know, I don't subscribe to this, first papa's ghar and then husband's ghar and then that's just the cycle of my life. I just wanted to be an independent girl. But now at this point, at 30, I have earned a lot more than that. And it's a conscious decision you make ki yaar, I had just come ki mujhe thoda kaam mil jaye, bahut hai mere liye. And today I am one of the most successful actors, I am among the highest paid, I have won so many awards, I've even set records. Toh ab mujhe kis cheez ka darr hai?

Being actors, if it is about our gender, about religion, about the debate of India's struggles, the army fighting at the border ­ why, for all this, do you show your back and why do you crawl into your little holes, why? If you can't speak... beyond being an actor, beyond being a professional, you are a citizen of the nation, first and foremost. How dare this industry forget that? Their lives are very limited. And that's why, like I said, I am more than happy to let go of this industry. And why? Because I don't have an iota of respect for it. And they can tell. And that's why they don't like me. And my genuine reason for not liking this industry is very personal. And I always say, if I stay, good for them, if I don't, good for me (laughs)! This kind of freedom also comes from the fact that I'm ready to move into another phase of my life, which can comprise anything. I can turn an author, or I can direct the kind of film I want once in a while, or I can do organic farming - I've built a beautiful house in Manali. But the thing is, if a certain industry doesn't have, you know, you don't have any respect, or pride or even gratitude, why do you want to live like that? We don't give back to the country enough. And there are very few films that address what the nation should be. There are very few that are actually made for the hinterland, the real India. So we really need to buckle up and earn our respect as an industry.

The Simran trailer has lines about “Chhote chhote titli jaise pankh nikal rahe hain...“ Many people would look at you and probably visualise “Chhote chhote seeng...“
(Laughs) Like I said, with extreme failures or bullying, there's a point when you're like, you're trying to watch your back, you're trying to save yourself, you're trying to fight conflicts ­ and then there comes a point where you, I don't know, you just become this beast. And also to see what the opposition is about. I mean, I don't even call them worthy enemies, because they're not. The ones who play underhand games, who come from behind with a dagger, the ones who will use different means to fight back, are not worthy enemies. I wish they were like me, to tell me things to my face, or to come in front of everyone and say things as they are. Or what they feel, because I would love to know their perspective. I guess I will never know, because like I said, coming from front and attacking from front is not what they are taught to do. So yeah, I think I've become this beast post my Rangoon failure and everything that happened post that.

Your character says, “tum jante kitna ho mera nature kaisa hai, character flaw toh nahi...“ ­ what's your character flaw?
Mera character flaw yehi hai ke I am, I mean, being headstrong is a good quality, but I am too headstrong. I am too, too, too headstrong. And sometimes I even get a bit taken aback with my own ego as a woman. Because ­ A, a woman, and B, ego. It's not a combination that doesn't exist, it does, of course. But it's not acceptable. And that too in this much multitude. I think ego is genderless. It's harmful for anyone. But for me, I do feel that I am too egoistic... but my pride and my dignity do stem out of it.

Doesn't that disrupt logical thought, influence your reactions?
Well, of course. Luckily, I am not an impulsive person. I always have a filter of objectivity through my thoughts. That's why I can take really strong stands. I really value my personality more than my profession. And I've earned it, over a period of time. Luckily, I became familiar with the cause and effect theory by Vivekananda, and I subscribe to it. I have to put everything through that filter, and then I realise, oh, yes. If I didn't have that, I would be a disaster, I agree. Ego is like a death trap, ego can completely destroy you. But then I have Vivekananda's blessings, and I have his teachings.

Are the people close to you, who when they see you continuing with your anger and ego, behave like Sameer in Simran's trailer, fleeing from you without hearing you out, and you have to exclaim, poori kahani suno!
(Laughs) Well, people around me, yeah they get fed up of me, it's not that they don't. I don't meet my set of friends sometimes for days, because I am embroiled in some kind of controversy, something's going on. So they do get fed up, ki tumko chain nahi hai? Matlab when you're in so much trouble, why don't you keep quiet?

You and Vidya Balan are actors who are often the sole face on their posters. You in particular seem to have a lot of cinema which looks like it is being made around your personality. If a role is contrary to your profile, is of a love-struck, dependent character, will you be able to fit in?
Of course I'll do such a role. If the script is good, if the story is good, I would play such a role. In fact, Julia, to an extent, till half the film (Rangoon), she's that woman, who's looking for the approval of a man, who's so needy in love that it is almost like a sickness. Also, I can't say that I was not that person at one point of time. Growing up, I had a terrible time with romantic life and love interests, and I used to be lovesick to an extent that I wouldn't eat for days, I wouldn't go to school, I would cry all the time. And also there's a lot of shame that comes with being lovesick, with the fantasies of youth and the trap of primitive mating instincts. There's a lot of shame attached to it. You can't share that with anyone. I used to lose a lot of weight every time I was in love. I've had a terrible time growing up. And the same with maternal instincts. Like the last few years of my life, since I've been 25, and now I'm 30, I'm just, brooding, want to have a family, all my girlfriends are expecting. So it's not easy. I would show a lot of empathy to young women and tell them it's just fine, it's fine if you're lovesick, it's fine if you cry all the time, it's fine if you don't feel hungry, feel the butterflies that come with the initial encounter of passion, that pukey feeling that you get with the excitement of meeting someone. Oh my God, I remember all of that. So that time, yes, that's your world and you can't think beyond that. I have a lot of empathy for such a state. And I'm sure I'll be damn good at playing it because I have been lovesick to such an extent... I used to listen to Jagjit Singh's poetry. I was a Ghalib fanatic!

Which ghazals?
Tere aane ki jab khabar mehke teri khushboo se sara ghar mehke (laughs)! Oh God! Ghalib ­ Khuda ke waste parda nakab se utha zalim, kahin aisa na ho yahan bhi wohi kaafir sanam nikle... Hazaaron khwahishein aisi ki har khwahish pe dam nikle. How much, uff! Matlab, what beautiful days of growing up.

What irks you the most currently?
How people think they have the right to tell me how I should live my life. Who are you to tell me what I should do with my life? “Just keep to your film“? Why?! This platform that I have, I've earned, dammit! You will tell me what I should say? Why should you tell me? There was so much shame in being in love when you were younger and now there is shame in being a nationalist or being someone who's fighting against gender bias or... if there is going to be shame at every stage, then what is the fun of growing up? (Laughs) Young women are shamed for being in love, older women are shamed for talking about issues, what do you do?!

Write a book?
(Laughs) I definitely have a lot to tell!