By Poulomi Das Mar. 03, 2017
In a diary entry, Shraddha Kapoor reflects on the year gone by: “The only call I got after OK Jaanu was from KRK. It was like getting an endorsement from the Ku Klux Klan.”
Today, I’m heading to Europe to bring in my 30th birthday with my three best friends aka the only people in this world who’ve watched all my films.
To be honest, I was in no mood to celebrate after the disaster that was OK Jaanu but then I found some shakti when I remembered the words of one man: “Shraddha Kapoor has a rich father so she can take it easy.” Unfortunately for me, that bubble lasted for all of five minutes. As the plane soared high into the sky, I couldn’t help but feel defeated. Can every single thing in this world reach great heights except my career?
Let me tell you a secret, dear diary; something most people don’t realise about me. The failure of OK Jaanu hurt me as much as my death in Ek Villain. My family keeps telling me that I should become immune to flops, because now I’ve pretty much made a name for delivering movies that sink at the box office and everyone knows how difficult it is to stand for something in Bollywood… just ask Kangana Ranaut!
Where am I going wrong, dear diary? I’ve decided to take this time to introspect. The constant comparisons with Alia Bhatt don’t help either.
For days after the release of OK Jaanu, I kept staring at my phone to get lit with congratulatory calls and messages praising my performance in the film, but the only call I got was from KRK telling me that that in a world of two rupees people, I was a fresh ₹2,000 note person. It was like getting an endorsement from the Ku Klux Klan. I admit, I wanted to break down then. But I didn’t.
As a star sperm, I’ve learnt to roll with the punches. Everyone thinks you have it easy. Nobody thinks about the work that goes into employing a stylist who gets me at least five outfit changes every day so that I can immediately broadcast the look on Instagram and Twitter. I do interviews and smile for the cameras. I even try participating in rumours about my link-ups with my co-stars, go out and have torrid love affairs. That’s not hard work or what? But it seems as if no matter what I do, I just can’t please the press. All they want to talk about is my career.
Where am I going wrong, dear diary? I’ve decided to take this time to introspect. The constant comparisons with Alia Bhatt don’t help either. Just the other day, I read an article that compared our careers and praised Alia for being the Deepika Padukone to my Sonam Kapoor. Is it my fault that I can’t give more than one expression in a movie?
For the first time in my six-year-long career, I’m playing a lead in Haseena, a biopic on godmother Haseena Parkar. My brother Siddhanth essays the role of Dawood Ibrahim, my on-screen sibling. I know, I should be happy, but here I am spending sleepless nights thinking about him taking away my limelight with his acting. What should I do, dear diary? I could ask the makers to let me sing a song in the movie. But then again, that trick didn’t work for Rock On 2!! I’m screwed.
Maybe, I’m overthinking this. I do have Half-Girlfriend coming up, and if there’s one person whose work I believe in, it’s Chetan Bhagat. It’s because of men like him and Papa that I can rise.
I’ve made up my mind. From now on, I’m going to follow in Alia’s footsteps and leave it all to the men. Papa once told me, “Behind every successful Alia Bhatt, there is an army of Siddharth Malhotra, Varun Dhawan, and Shahid Kapoor doing the work for her.”
That’s exactly why, when I was cutting the birthday cake with family last night, I closed my eyes and prayed to the God of Bollywood Careers aka Karan Johar. All us girls need is men to believe in us and make us stars… and then see us shine.
When not obsessing over TV shows, planning unaffordable vacations, or stuffing her face with french fries, Poulomi likes believing that some day her sense of humour will be darker than her under-eye circles.