Better halves

Star wives are the new stars in the making

I am not a big fan of the new-fangled reality shows on Indian TV but give me a film awards function and I will happily stay in on Sunday evening and watch it from start to finish. Yes, all the way from the cheesy interviews of stars on the red carpet (“Who are you wearing?” “How are you feeling?”) to the many ‘scintillating’ performances by stars who have been paid enormous amounts of money to shake their booty, interspersed with the awards themselves.

Despite the bad jokes, the tacky costumes, the snarky commentary and the corny comedy routines, there is something fun about these evenings. And I love every moment, even though there is a certain predictability about the entire exercise.

You know that Shah Rukh Khan will make snide comments about his co-stars and then apologise laughingly in the next breath. You know that Karan Johar will get a bit teary at some point or the other. You know that the camera will focus lovingly on Rekha when Amitabh Bachchan is on stage and vice versa (they had an affair a quarter of a century ago; get over it, people!). And so on.

But last week, as I sat down to watch the Zee Cine Awards, there was a surprise in store for me – and the many millions watching across the world.

Doing his tried-and-tested ‘Gosh I am so witty’ routine Shah Rukh invited Hrithik on stage. There was the usual banter between the stars on the lines of how Khan had taught Roshan everything. But now, said Shah Rukh, it was time to teach Hrithik how to treat his wife. And for that, he needed the ‘lovely’ Sussanne Roshan on stage.

Sitting pretty in the front row, Sussanne went all pink with embrassment, then stood up gamely and went on stage much to the delight of the delirious crowd. But then, as the routine unfolded, it became clear that this was no impromptu interlude but a well-rehearsed item that the stars had put together well before hand.

Sussanne entered into the spirit readily enough, going on her knees to say “I love you” to a ‘stupefied’ Hrithik. And as they traipsed happily off the stage, Shah Rukh announced to the delighted audience: “This has never happened at any awards show before this.”

He’s probably right about that. But what’s the betting that this kind of stuff will become routine as this decade unfolds? That star wives will become part of the entertainment instead of just sitting in the audience and clapping madly with fixed smiles on their faces?

Yes, the writing is pretty much on the autocue on that one. Star wives are no longer content to sit on the sidelines, basking in the reflected glory of their husbands. They want to be stars in their own right, thank you very much.

We’ve come a long time from the days when stars like Dharamendra kept their wives (well, in his case, only the first) locked up at home. Or when heroes married in secret – Aamir Khan to his first wife, Reena – so that their sex appeal at the box-office remained intact. Or when even the most dedicated reader of Stardust couldn’t pick out Jeetendra’s wife from a line-up.

Even heroines at the peak of their careers had to go into hibernation once they got married. Dimple was whisked away into the shadows once she married Rajesh Khanna, re-emerging only once her marriage broke down. Jaya Bhaduri went into retirement after marrying Amitabh Bachchan, only to be coaxed back to do Silsila with the other woman in this triangle, Rekha (okay, okay, I know it was a long time ago; sorry to bring it up again).

Today’s star wives are not the retiring creatures of old. Like Gauri Khan (for Vogue and various other glossies) they are cover girls in their own right, flaunting the latest designer outfits on their gym-fit bodies. They appear on Koffee with Karan with their other halves, poking gentle fun at their husbands, all shiny and sparkling with confidence. They sit majestically in the front row at fashion shows, bona fide style stars in their right.

They have their own Twitter accounts; their own fan following; sometimes even their own ad campaigns. Twinkle Khanna stars in one featuring a mobile phone even though she retired from the movies nearly a decade ago after marrying Akshay Kumar. And Gauri Khan co-stars with husband Shah Rukh in an ad for a home decor company (she is, apparently, its brand ambassadress).

Over the last month, we have seen wall-to-wall coverage of the release of Dhobi Ghaat, with the husband-wife team of Aamir Khan and Kiran Rao (lead actor and director respectively) giving joint interviews to anyone who turns up with a microphone and a camera. And while I am sure that Kiran Rao is an immensely talented woman who has made a very worthwhile movie, there is simply no denying that the publicity whirl around her is down to who she is married to. She gets all this attention because she is a star wife not because she is a brilliant first-time director.

Whichever way you look at it, one thing seems clear. Star wives are finally striking out for a bit of stardom in their own right. And in our celebrity-obsessed world, it looks as if they will get it.

Down memory lane

Why do we remember what we do?

My college days are long past. And unlike some of my friends who have a near-perfect recall of who said what to whom at which party, my recollections of that period are rather hazy and grow more so with every passing day. And yet, there are some things that stick in my memory, popping up ever so often.

I have forgotten practically everything that I was ever taught as part of my History of English Literature course (or whatever it was called; can’t really remember). But one factoid lives on in my memory for reasons that defy comprehension. I can still remember the formidable Miss Chatterjee informing us in her cut-glass accent that the Romans were well-known for building their roads in a straight line. If they came upon a river, they went over it. If they hit the odd mountain, they went under it. But in no circumstances did they deviate from the straight lines they held so dear.

Why were we studying the road-building proclivities of the Romans in Britain? No idea. Did it have any relevance to the study of English literature? Not a clue. All I remember is this little nugget of information. And for some reason, it sticks in my head while other more relevant stuff spills right out.

Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it? Sometimes you can remember what happened 20 years ago more clearly than the events of the last week. Some people remember their childhood perfectly, with each birthday standing out as a milestone. Some, like me, have no clear memory of their pre-school days. Some have a word-perfect recall of every quarrel they’ve ever had with their wives/husbands. Others can’t remember what their boss said to them yesterday.

And no two people, in my experience, ever remember the same thing in quite the same way. Try this for yourself if you don’t believe me. Just share a childhood memory with a sibling or a cousin and I’m pretty sure their recollection of it will differ substantially from yours.

Yes, memory is very subjective. And every one of us has a different way of processing it. Some of us only remember the good bits while others can’t get the bad stuff out of their minds. And then there are those who block every unhappy memory from their conscious brains.

My own memories lay embedded in many things. But of these, smells, songs and clothes are the most important aide-memoires that help me fix a certain moment in time in my head.

The smell of tea leaves always transports me back to my aunt’s tea-garden in Assam, where I spent several idyllic summers as a child. The sight of a crackling bonfire brings back memories of a Shimla vacation with friends. Listening to Abba or the Bee Gees takes me right back to my teens, when afternoon disco parties were all the rage (don’t ask).

Some of my best memories, however, lie within the folds of old clothes as they nestle in the back of my wardrobe. I still treasure the first designer outfit I ever bought – Comme Des Garcons on sale – even though I haven’t worn it in nearly a decade. But I pull it out occasionally, marvel at the fact that I once fitted into that tiny waistline, think back on all the fun I had in it during my misspent youth, and then put it away in the fond hope that I will fit into it another day.

And then, there are the memories associated with people. But while I have had my share of interviewing the rich and the famous, I generally end up remembering the strangest things about them a few years after the event.

In the early 90s, for instance, I spent three days with Shah Rukh Khan and his wife, while working on a cover story for Sunday, the magazine I then worked for. But even though Khan was already a star (though not quite the mega-star he later became) I can’t remember a single detail of the many long conversations I had with him.

The only thing I do remember is sitting at his dining table while Gauri complained loudly to Yash Johar that she couldn’t make any STD calls because Shah Rukh kept blocking the line by entering the wrong code.
Similarly, the only thing I remember about Anil Kapoor is that he conducted our interview with bleach all over his moustache. No, he didn’t offer any explanation for this bizarre behavior and I couldn’t summon up the courage to ask.

Why do these particular details stick in my brain when everything else has been washed out? Go figure.

And then, there’s the traumatic stuff, the sort of thing that never ever leaves you.

I still remember arriving at the Oberoi Grand lobby, the eager rookie reporter all set for the first big interview of her life with culture guru Martand Singh. Ever the gentleman, he was waiting for me in the lobby.

I walked up to him, smiling brightly, when my stiletto-ed feet slid across the granite lobby. I can still hear the screeching sound they made as I crashed right into him at top speed. It’s a good thing that his reflexes were quick enough to catch me when I was still a few inches away and hold me upright or I would have taken us both down.

Needless to say, I don’t remember much of the interview that followed.