Those that are different.

This is an excerpt from my interview with a handsome Hindi film hero who doubled as a producer more than a year ago. At the end of our 20-minute long telephonic interaction, I had only scribbled the word ‘different’ some 50 times. Then my editor demanded a ‘different’ piece of writing. But given the circumstances, how was I supposed to make a ‘difference’?

Being this newspaper’s Hindi cinema correspondent, I often find myself at the most trying situations. It is difficult to predict our stars’ mood swings and whims and unfortunately, that is what makes or breaks the days of poor journalists like me.

An interview can be cancelled at the very last moment for varied reasons-for heroines it may be a sudden low mood due to an unexpected pimple, and for heroes that may be an “unexplained emergency”. Finally, when I manage to nail a leading star for that elusive one-on-one, I may discover that I have heard his lines many times before.

There are some quotes film journalists hear ad nauseum. “I believe in my director.” “He/ she is a wonderful co-star. We had a great time on the sets.” “I would not have done that (reference to a particular ‘bold’ sequence) if the script did not demand it.” “I am still single.”

Of course there are some interesting variations. Recently, when I asked an upcoming Hindi film heroine where she saw herself five years later, she said: “Why don’t you give me a call and find out after five years?” I ended up telling her that I would surely do better things then than call her up.

Some weeks back I met one of the most good-looking actor for the first time. I was surprised by his politeness and the fact that he has no starry airs. However, minutes into the interview, I was about to doze off in the comfort of his air-conditioned makeup van as he meticulously answered all my questions in his same humourless tone. I decided to fix my gaze on him rather than jotting down his quotes. To be fair, journalists might also be a bore by asking the same questions again and again.

The fact that I still enjoy covering Bollywood is because herein lives someone called Salman Khan. Months back, I managed to catch him at the screening of a film and extract some quotes for an article. It was one of those breezy interactions, and there was little chance of Khan recognising me later on. But the next time we met, he walked up to me saying, “You are my Priyanka Chopra.” All eyes were turned on me and I failed to find a suitable reply.

Almost two decades after his first film Maine Pyaar Kiya released, I again fell in love with him, this time as a grownup, cynic and, er, critic.