New Star To Big Star

Newbie. Wannabe. Newfind. Aspirant. Struggler. Call them by whatever name you want, but every single minute there's one trying to make an entry into cinebiz. And if they already have, they're making that valiant attempt to gain a foothold in moviedom.
Newcomers. Some soar, others score and yet others dwindle away into oblivion after their vapid debuts. My mind raced back to the time when I'd met some of these greenhorns who transformed into A-list stars later.
 
Like the time when…. I met up with this swarthy-looking actress who'd sashayed into moviebiz with a flick that everyone assumed would be a grosser. Unfortunately, this one turned cropper… and how! However, this new gal, daughter of a yesteryear star wasn't really perturbed as she's already bagged yet another Big Flick venture alongside A-list actors.
 
Even as I readied to leave my suburban Mumbai home for this inter-phew, my telephone blared away furiously. It was my magazine editor on the line… telling me that Ms. Yesteryear Icon had called him up to convey a relevant piece of news that he felt I ought to know too.

"She's told me that her daughter is in a very foul mood and her mood is quite schizophrenic at the moment," Mr. Editor sounded me out. "It seems she's always like this when she has her monthly periods. Menstruating seems to affect her emotions quite strangely and she's likely to have mood swings that can be quite frustrating for the one opposite her. I'm telling you this because she's already given Hell to the one reporter who interviewed her today. So, you'd better be careful."
"So, what should I do… take along a foreign brand of sanitary pads for her?", I asked amid giggles… and I could hear Mr. Editor guffawing his guts out too…

When I did land up at the plush South Mumbai residence, Ms. Newcomer was sitting pretty in her livin room. Pretty, er, is the wrong adjective. Rather, she looked quite unkempt in her unimpressive white tee and brown shorts; her face all swarthy and hair a terrible mess. Mother Ex-Superstar, in comparison, looked like a bomb… in her chic kaftan coupled with alluring make-up and hairdo.

"What kind of film journalists do they churn out nowadays," she grumbled grossly. "Imagine, the one before you had no clue who Pierce Brosnan was. He didn't know a program called 'Remington Steele' existed. Oh thankfully, he was aware of a channel called 'Star World.' Hope, you won't stretch my patience."
 
"I'll make all efforts to ensure that we have a great chat," I said in my brightest tone. "And I've fully prepared with my questionnaire so that we have a good interview. Also, I do know that Pierce Brosnan happens to be an Irish actor."
Ah, that cut the ice. Ms. Newcomer thawed… and smiled gently. "I do feel that this interview will go well." And boy… it was all good after that. What I didn't realise is that Mother Star too was standing behind in the vicinity, listening into the chatathon from time to time.

"You came quite prepared and I liked your questions," she announced her verdict. "And I'm also happy that she didn't give you any grief. Well, pity, I can't say the same about the others." (giggled)
Soon, Ms. Newbie climbed the popularity charts and consolidated her status in cinebiz as ace star. I interviewed her years later….and she had completely forgotten about that interview. From my side, I did little to jog her memory either.
 
Like the one when… I met up with one debutante who gave me "super attitude". Her name was … Gracy Singh.
She'd wrapped up Lagaan and couldn't really get over the fact that "the" Aamir Khan of Hindi moviebiz had roped her in as his leading lady. Interview… or more aptly, inter-phew… was a classic bore. Everything connected with Lagaan was "wonderful", "great", "brilliant", "outstanding", "superb", "mind-blowing," "terrific" and… she also used some more fancy adjectives that I can't really recall now.

After having endured all of that, it was time for the accompanying snapshots. There were more of a dozen of those 'Lagaan' stills handed over to me by her over-zealous PR. The problem arose when I wanted one or two of her stills with the actress performing Bharatanatyam.

"Well, reach my home and call on my number at this time," Gracy informed me. At the appointed hour, I was at the residence and when I did phone, Gracy asked me to come up to her flat. Seconds later, as I headed towards the building, the watchman called me back frantically. It was Gracy on the intercom… and she was curt this time "No need to come up," she snapped. "I'll send the photos with my servant… you wait down, okay? I don't see why I should see you now."