Losing My Shine

(Published in Time Out Mumbai, June 2006)

Earlier this month, coinciding with the buzz surrounding the film Gangster, a national weekly commissions me to interview actor Shiney Ahuja, Gangster's hero number two. My attempt at conducting a scholarly email interview bombs. We schedule a face-to-face for a Monday evening.

After an hour's wait at a Lokhandwala coffee shop, Ahuja sends his car to pick me up. I assume we are going to his house. Thirty minutes later, the car pulls in at the entrance of In Orbit Mall, Malad. "Where is Shiney?" I ask the driver. "I don't know, I was asked to drop you here," the driver replies. I stumble out of the car amid armies of mall rats. It is past dinner time. I am tired and mildly terrified by the absurdity of the situation. Ahuja has stopped answering his phone.

Wanting nothing more to do with neurotic, perverse, and disrespectful Bollywood stars ever again, I decide to abandon the interview and to feed myself before my trek back home. On my way to a pizzeria on the third floor, I spot Ahuja emerging from the multiplex. He is lumbering through a crowd of men, women and children clamoring for autographs and photos. Despite the run-around I've been given, I introduce myself to someone in the actor's entourage to fulfil what I believe is a journalistic duty. Minutes later, I am back in Ahuja's car, conducting the interview en route to his Lokhandwala residence.

The actor is sorry for making me wait. The promotional event at the multiplex kept getting delayed. I learn that Ahuja's roles affect him – they make him vulnerable and moody. He is glad that Aamir Khan lent himself to the Narmada Bachao Andolan, but nothing worries Ahuja enough to want to make him raise his voice. He hopes someone will make a biopic on Mother Teresa someday, and his most frequently read book is Sanford Meisner on Acting.

I ask Ahuja what he thinks of Hazaaron Khwaishein Aisi, Sudhir Mishra's Emergency-era masterpiece, in which Ahuja played the role of Vikram. "I get something new every time I see it. The film's like a novel," the actor says. Would he change anything about the film? "No, it's perfect," Ahuja says. I remind him of the confusing transitions between some scenes. He tells me I am missing the point. He launches into an animated analysis of HKA, and tells me things I hadn't noticed despite repeated viewings. When deconstructing a scene from the film, he re-enacts it precisely. Such recall is suggestive of a deeper connection to a role than that of a mere performer.

A week later, when I turn in my feature, the editor at the national weekly finds it unremarkable and refuses to publish it. I should have eaten the bloody pizza.