The lights came up at the premiere of the highly anticipated “Saawariya.” The crème de la crème of the film fraternity walked out in silence. The customary praise and calculated adulation was shared with the cast and crew of the film. Everyone got into their cars and left the venue. And then…the mobiles came out. The real reviews came crackling through Nokia Communicators and bejeweled Motorola’s. Opinions from the color palette to the pace of the film were animatedly discussed. The fraternity was happy. The fraternity was celebrating. Celebrating the failure of a film. Celebrating the failure of a filmmaker.

I went back home that night and sat on my bed. Something was bothering me. I asked myself if a part of me was secretly happy that “Saawariya” might bite the dust. Was I happy that a competitor might have erred in judgment? And the truth is, I was happy, and that made me feel sick.

It took me back to the weekend of the release of “Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham.” My first film, “Kuch Kuch Hota Hai” was a hit and was received wonderfully by the industry and audiences at large. With my second film I had set out to tell a story with the unity of family as the primary sentiment, but all anyone had to say in the lobbies of screening rooms, the columns of newspapers, and hallways of production offices was that it was overtly melodramatic. The critics said it was over the top, and the trades claimed it to be a disaster. That was the buzz, and it got louder and louder with each passing show time.

And that’s fine. I’m perfectly okay with people not getting into my films. I’ll admit, I had set out to make a moving, poignant film, a classic, if you must. I truly value the opinions of other filmmakers and am always ready to swallow a reality pill, but I couldn’t understand the excitement in pulling me down. The irony is that K3G was the biggest box office success of that year, the highest grossing Hindi film overseas. I’m still not saying I made a masterpiece, but it left me questioning why the industry that raised me would be so eager to love to hate my work. Why were some of my peers so keen to bash a film that was, on all box office accounts at least, booming?

It doesn’t really matter how hard you introspect for that answer, the reality is that it’s just human nature. It’s how we’re wired, more so in a creative field, where it’s just too easy to wrangle a good idea into the flop bin. It is our natural disposition to be jealous of someone for his or her success, or for his or her ability to tell a story better than the rest of us. Yet here I was, six years later, feeling pleasure from a colleague’s imminent pain.

Why is it so easy, so natural for me, for the rest of the industry to feel a tinge of excitement when another filmmaker misses the mark with their film? What collective ego are we trying to feed and pamper here? Why is a section of the fraternity secretly (or not so secretly, you be the judge of that) thrilled that Yash Raj hasn’t played the greatest hand this year? That company has provided us with some of the greatest films to ever grace our screens. Why are people celebrating? What’s the matter with us? If the very thing that derives pleasure stems from a place of negativity, it’s only a matter of time before it turns into poisonous resentment. It just doesn’t seem very neighborly to me anymore.

We’re all competitive, and that spirit is exhilarating and bold. But how much more evolved (and resolved) would we be if we collectively took the hit (pun unintended) for a poorly received film? Wouldn’t it speak volumes of us as leading contributors of world cinema to act as a co-op, supporting the highs and the lows in tandem, with respect?

Idealistic, I know. It’s too tempting to relish someone else’s cinematic failures, but if we could turn that debilitating jealousy into the more socially acceptable cardinal sin, envy, I think we’d give solidarity a run for it’s money.

I sat for days thinking of what I should write. Frivolous and intelligent thoughts kept oscillating in my “gemini” head. I read many blogs written by prolific and evolved personalities. And so, after suffering a persecution complex and a feeling of insecurity, I decided to be myself, which most of us in the film fraternity very rarely do.

Over the years I’ve surfed the net to read about how people perceive me. What they think of me as a filmmaker, a chat show host, or just as a human being. Initially what I read might have driven me to the closest therapist, and Prozac might’ve been my soul mate. But a good mother can always bring you back on track. I read bloggers attack my “bubble gum cinema”. I strolled into chat rooms discussing my sexuality. I read about my alleged link ups with leading mainstream actors. So should I have felt like a controversial celebrity? Or just plain and simple, sad? The latter has so much more drama. But fortunately, I settled for old-fashioned indifference.

It’s important to be honest. Yes, it’s important, but certainly not possible. So most of us in the film fraternity (notice how I use that word a lot?) have mastered the art of “dishonest honesty.” What is that? It’s the art of concealing the truth and yet coming across frank and forthright. It’s a gift we all have. But just like classical singing, it takes many years till you hit the high notes. My endeavor on this platform is to be a little less “dishonest honest”. I’m going to try. I promise.

So let me start by saying, I am star struck, and have always been. I love, adore, and am obsessed by film stars. I like to befriend them, I enjoy meeting them, I love having them in my inbox, and more importantly, I’m constantly trying to add to my collection. There, I said it. For many years, I had a desire to be popular. It’s like I wanted to win every congeniality contest in the world. It made me artificial. I didn’t quite like that about myself but I also didn’t know how to get out of that zone. I used to gush about women in terrifying clothes. Appreciate god awful celluloid performances. Hug and kiss people I wanted to send to jail and even applaud films that should never have been released. I had become the Godzilla of fake.

I lost my father. June 26th, 2004.

My perspective on life and relationships changed overnight. Death has a tendency of bringing you back to life. My new headspace at that point of time led to me making my infidelity saga, “Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna”. There was good news and bad news at that end. The good news was a bolder, newer, directorial, ME. The bad news was the old hangover that still made its way into the film; opulence, star image maintenance, and item song were some of the features of the film that I don’t really place on my pride mantle. Honestly, I don’t really have a film I want to scream and shout about. But then again, I never claimed to be a path-breaking cinematic genius. I was always an eager cinegoer who turned into an eager to please filmmaker.

Today I want intellectual acceptance. I want critical acclaim. I want blog praise, and I want festival applause. Don’t get me wrong, I still want the box office. Am I asking for too much? Of course I am. But I believe the universe, apparently, can be asked for the impossible. It’s no secret. I’m doing just that, everyday.

So, welcome to my bloggers park. I hope you find yourself a bench.

Love and koffee,

Karan.

p.s. my film is finally titled, “My Name is Khan” (alvida, “K’) and it stars Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol. This is my first official announcement.