Interview: Sonali Bendre Behl

January 2016: She’s self-made from the start, actor, wife and mother—this, you knew. Meet the Goth chic, deep thinker, voracious reader, design aficionado, fresh author of a parenting book and much more… Sonali Bendre is in bloom.

The cover of Good Housekeeping.

The door to Sonali and Goldie’s apartment opens to reveal a giant shiny silver Ganesha ensconced in an ornate domed mini temple, also in silver, at the end of the marble reception area. And although my pre-interview expectations had been conflicting—she’s of the era where you were ‘good friends’ until you were married; my interest had however been piqued by reviews that called her book honest and contemporary—whether or not I know it, I’ve subconsciously made up my mind in a split second. Traditional style, same-old same-old.

It’s the only explanation for why, seconds later, I was so incredibly surprised when I followed the help into the living room where I was to wait. It is dramatic, high-design, Goth-European. With lush wooden floors, deep blues and blacks, and bursting with books. Indian elements, so subtle you’d almost miss them, link the décor. I can’t get over it, and sneakily look around for a CCTV before taking a picture. (There wasn’t one, unlike most stars’ and modern parents’ homes. And I didn’t, just FYI.)

Over a long ambling conversation, interrupted only by the attention-seeking Isis-the-dog, Sonali Bendre Behl continues to surprise. She arrives, in a grey skater dress with nary a hint of make-up and accessories, and apologises for keeping me waiting. It’s been a hectic day organising her 10-year-old son Ranveer’s schedule (“He wants to do everything!”); and she’s been in constant touch with her publishers over her recent book, The Modern Gurukul: My Experiments with Parenting.

Becoming a mother, and then writing this book about her journey through motherhood have been the epochal moments of her life. Until Ranveer was born, she barely felt married—so footloose and fancy-free was life with her best friend and easy in-laws—and neither did Goldie. When she was pregnant, she was quite confident, blasé even: “I am a completely self-made person. It’s been a tough journey—I learnt on the job, worked 48 hours without sleeping… I’ve achieved all this, I can do anything.” So, having read everything there was to read, Superwoman had shrugged her shoulders and said, “So big deal! It’s a child! I will deal with it!”

And, she got put in her place. “It’s nothing like what the books tell you.” The first six months were hell. “First, it was a fight to say why is my square peg not fitting into this round hole, but it didn’t. It’s an individual with a mind of his or her own already.” And then she accepted it was not going to happen. “You just figure that, whatever anyone says, you have to start figuring things out vis-à-vis your child.”

As she explains in her book, when she started looking for answers, they were everywhere. In storybooks and TED Talks, newspaper articles and celeb interviews, and in discussions with girlfriends who were also mothers. Her quest eventually led her to the gurukul system, where the emphasis was on raising a ‘compassionate human being using a holistic approach.’

As her tattered bible of notes became rather famous, her girlfriends sparked the idea of getting it published. “It was a big laugh at first,” she says, though a chance party conversation had Random House interested.

It was only two years later, in 2014, that she got around to writing. She’d spent six months doing a TV show; by the time she finished, she had organised her life in such a way that it was working on her phone. Suddenly there was a new vacuum “and a vacuum is a dangerous place”—so for six months, while her husband was on shoot and Ranveer was at school, she wrote.

“Even history tells you that travelling is the best teacher. It makes you less judgemental and more open to accepting different kinds of people and situations.”

What started out being a compilation of her observations turned out to be a lot more personal and revealing about her, Goldie and Ranveer than she “ever wanted, expected or dreamt of” it being. When the book was ready, she panicked—“I was such a private person; I wasn’t even on Twitter!”—and was willing to put it away as a not-so-wasted effort, because at least it had given her a chance to introspect.

Goldie was most pleased about the chapter on fathers. “He felt parenting becomes all about mother… what about him and men like him who want to be hands-on? Even in educated households, mothers-in-law will say, ‘Arrey woh toh maa ka kaam hai, why are you doing it?’ It’s frustrating because a lot of fathers want to be involved.”

More importantly, he, and the book in general, have pushed her boundaries. “When people come to interview you as a Bollywood actress, they are not interested in your answers or what you think, beyond a point.” There is a construct of an actress of a certain generation, I agree, and Sonali says she never fit in. “There’s a hidden Goth in me; I have a dark sense of humour; I have a dark sense of fashion. I’m a straight lines, no-fuss person. I’m actually the opposite of what my profession wants me to be, in a sense.”

But it was a private non-conformism, not one she broadcast to the world. “Goldie told me that, if my grouse was that I was never asked interesting questions and wasn’t on social media, how, exactly, was anyone to know me, to know any different?”

This was around the time she was doing talent shows, opening up, saying what she had to say, unscripted. And, for someone who had once said she was terrified of social media, she’s finally on it, enjoying it and admitting that staying away had been a mistake.

Sonali on Trivia

"At film interviews, they only ever want trivia—they are not interested in anything but the trivia. My favourite colour, food, book, movie, song, eye colour, perfume… all those sorts of things.

I’ve always given different answers at different points of time because it actually changes for me. And sometimes I’ve given different answers for cheap thrills. Then there are days when I tell the truth: ‘I’m actually allergic to perfume, I don’t use it.’

No one has ever contradicted saying, ‘But last time you said black. How are you saying white is your favourite colour?’ Because nobody’s bothered to read it; no one’s really interested. It is trivia and it is trivial."

A large part of her new interest in (and knowledge about) technology and social media has come for and from Ranveer. He’s 10 and on Instagram, and it’s terrifying. “As Goldie says, we can’t ban him, so now I join him.” In any case, as she says in the book, her principal ideas of new-age parenting are learning and growing with your children (they ask “Google God”), and relying on their ability to self-censor. So far it’s working. “I’ve had times where he has said, ‘Mama, that’s PG 13, I know I’m not supposed to see it.’”

There was this time when Sonali was cutting his nails and he said, “This is the finger that I’m not supposed to show right?”

“He was six or seven! Kids are exposed to so much more; there is so much more happening. They are going to see it; they are going to hear that F word… So you bring up your child to understand the right and wrong much earlier than we did: what I would have had to know at 15 or 16, he has to know at five or six.”

Sonali on Being Her Mother’s Daughter

Much like her parents, giving her child the tools to handle the world is key to Sonali and Goldie’s parenting strategy. Despite having more flops than hits, she was working with every top star and banner in the country—and attributes this to her professionalism and independence.

“My mother never came to the sets.

I have a younger sister and she said, ‘I have a daughter at home who needs me. If you were working in an office, you think I would be sitting next to you at a desk?’ was her question.

I said, ‘No, but everybody’s mother seems to go with them.’

She said, ‘I can’t. You have to grow up at some point and handle a few things on your own. I will have to trust my upbringing and believe that you will take the right decisions. I would only tell you one thing—just remember, it’s never too late to turn back and come home. The doors are always going to be open.’

That has been my life lesson, and I just hope I can do that for my child. Because I think there’s nothing more you can do than that.”

Sonali is unabashed about being from a regular middle-class Maharashtrian family; a product of a series of Kendriya Vidyalaya schools as a result of her father’s transferable government job. The rootlessness has left her with the ability to project a false sense of being comfortable and be friendly while never totally opening up, and the confidence to give up trying to fit in.

And then she met and married Goldie—a boy with deep roots in Juhu, Mumbai, where he’s grown up and they now live, and in the film industry, where he’s third-generation. “There are a lot of people who are family; a lot of people who are such close friends that they are like family.”

She muses over her mug of coffee for a moment. “Maybe I became a loner because we travelled so much,” adding that writing letters to friends didn’t really work. She reaps the benefits of Goldie’s tapestry of connections: “Juhu’s like a village! It’s a great support system, especially for a child… and we are, eventually, social animals.”

Life is coming full circle, though Facebook, that has been the amalgamation of connections past for most of us, hasn’t worked as well for her. With a touch of the endearing naïve befuddlement à la those aunties who still send the ‘FWD: FWD: FWD’ jokes, this social media newbie says, “There are lot of strange people who tell me we were classmates... in schools I’ve never been to…” She attributes her not recognising the ‘former classmates’ who add her to a poor memory for names and faces; I propose the obvious instead. It’s the stardom—people remember meeting or having been in school with someone who became famous, and are happy to invent and exaggerate friendships. Then there’s the platoon of creeps, of course.

Her husband and her have a special connection, despite their apparent dissimilarities. Like her, he started working, grew up really early in life, owing to the early death of his father. He’s more romantic than she is, the “dramas” of flowers and jewellery were never part of her life. That she forgets birthdays and anniversaries (and doesn’t mind if people forget hers) is something Goldie is just about coming to terms with—it’s the small gestures that matter. “That’s the person I am, and I think that, again, comes from the rootlessness. It’s not such a big deal, those dates… you take whatever comes.”

It is his decision not to have a second child, and she’s happy to go with his conviction. “He says we’ve had enough responsibilities, so there should be a time where we have none. We’ve never done what our teenage friends were doing, so are really looking forward to having that time out to ourselves.” Doing what, exactly? “You know, travel, learn something… Maybe there are certain things that teenagers do that we’ll never feel like doing; other things we would want to do…”

Obviously not someone who dwells on regrets, Sonali does regret how late she started working out. As a skinny person, she didn’t need to workout to lose weight—now, she realises muscles are her best friends, and she doesn’t have enough of those. She started when Ranveer was around three, not to lose the postpartum weight but to keep up with him. The working injuries started catching up; her core and joints were like jelly.

Physiotherapy got her started; now, she does cardio and strength training at the local gym, but not more than four days a week, not more than half an hour. “Any more becomes boring and mindless.” She does functional training at home on days she can’t make it to the gym in the morning.

“My routine is very simple, because I realised that the more complicated the exercise sessions are, the less likely I am to make it for them. They have to be simple and doable in my daily routine.” Everyone has to figure out his or her own way to do it—much like her parenting mantra.

Letting people see the real you, not giving a damn and being yourself in public is a crucial, liberating step in the evolution of a person, an artist, charting his or her own path, I believe. Though she’s not a hundred per cent there yet, she’s followed a classic trajectory. “I was very young when I started, so I’ve tried to conform and do things as they are meant to be.” But, beyond that, “I never tried to fit in, and I’m not even today. I don’t see any reason why I should want to fit in.”

The real Sonali Bendre Behl stands up.

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An edited version of this interview was the cover story of Good Housekeeping in January 2016.

Interview: Shraddha Kapoor

October 2015: A dreamer, a learner, a doer. The multitalented actress Shraddha Kapoor seeks to be everything she is not.

The cover of Harper's Bazaar.

She’s sitting in exactly the same place—on a sofa under a portrait of her father, in the Kapoors’ apartment facing Silver Beach in Juhu, Mumbai—as she was when we last spoke. She’s in give-a-damn clothes as before, a long-sleeved deep blue tee, skinny jeans, and laceless ankle boots in deep tan, with not a hint of make-up.

But I instantly sense something fundamental has changed about—evolved in—Shraddha Kapoor in the past year.

Once she starts talking, nineteen to the dozen, it’s not hard to figure out what it is. As a “creative, curious person,” she has always wanted to “have as many life experiences as possible” and to be in films. She hails from a family of performers and has always been a talented all-round one herself—she’s studied theatre, Kathak, Odissi, street jazz, and even the piano for 10 years! Now, watching her dreams dovetailing and coming true, making a mark with four hits in a six-film career, this 26-year-old seems to have gained a deep confidence and is emanating a powerful creative energy.

Although I’d met her last after her performance in the fabulous Haider, she is only now embracing the self-assurance of success and recognition. “When my first two films didn't do well, I was really shaken. You know how terrible it feels when you have failures.”

However, she feels more than fortunate now. “Everyday I have a moment of realisation that I am just so blessed to be getting the opportunities I’m getting.” There’s the travelling, of course. Director Mohit Suri got her to sing Galliyan for Ek Villain, during which she also got to relive her passion for scuba diving in the underwater sequence. “For ABCD2, Varun (Dhawan) and I got a chance to dance with the country’s best professional dancers. Who gets such a chance?”

She says her passions are intertwining, and she has the best job in the world. And she’s throbbing with inspiration. But there is also the awareness that it’s fleeting, that a Friday hit/flop can determine your standing and how people treat you.

So she’s seizing these chances wholeheartedly, keeping her nose to the grindstone and giving each one her best. And it shows—Rajeev Masand of CNN-IBN wrote about the “sheer hard work” of ABCD2’s leads: “Both actors hold their own against the professionals without losing face.” Rani Mukherjee also recently told Kapoor that her hard work could be seen in every shot. Dhawan, a childhood friend, too comments on her dedication, calling her “a go-getter, someone who wants to get better and better.” She thinks these are the best kind of compliments to get.

Kapoor is also a believer in “the power of the universe”, that the universe will conspire to make something you truly want happen. “That’s what I really feel every day.” Take, for instance, Rock On!! 2, her upcoming project for which she’s been at band rehearsals all day at Yash Raj Studios. She remembers watching the first instalment with her family when it was released eight years ago, and being so blown away by the movie that she thought, “I must be really crazy to think this… but if they make a Rock On!! 2, I have to be in it.” And here she is, playing a singer in the movie, singing her own songs, playing the piano, alongside most of the original cast (“Oh My God!”) and some other biggies. She can barely contain herself.

Another project in the pipeline is Baaghi: A Rebel for Love, an action-romantic film opposite Tiger Shroff. They’ve just shot one song thus far—“I had to dance in five-inch heels while Tiger was doing his spins and flips, not fair,” she mock-complains, laughing. She leaves for Kerala the day after this interview to shoot for the latter, then to Shillong for the former.

Kapoor likes the excitement of changing skins, hair, make-up, and looks between characters, doing different roles. Since Tanya Ghavri’s become her stylist, she’s also been exploring her relationship with fashion in a deeper way. Though her personal style was “bohemian”, she now enjoys couture for events and magazine covers.

With a life so full of loves and passions—including Instagram and Snapchat that she now prefers to Twitter—I ask her what she thinks of love, the romantic kind. “I am open to it. I feel like love can come, spring up on you and surprise you at anytime.” It’s clearly not a priority though (“What is Tinder?”), and she’s not seeking. “I need to work on my skills, explore my passions. If it has to happen it will happen, if it doesn’t, it’s fine. I have my other loves that I am happy with.”

She reveals that she also writes, incidentally, and has been doing so since she was little. What about? “I write what I’m feeling and to capture my day. I just write to remember my experiences when am older.” She recently reread her last entry as a 19-year-old, about all the flowers and excitement of turning 20… “It’s so interesting to go back to that.” Does she rewatch her performances as well? “No, surprisingly, not since their screenings! I’m waiting to do so,” she says, wondrously aware that the benchmarks in her personal journey are public ones, frozen in celluloid for eternity.

“She has really grown,” says Dhawan. “People thought she was over, and now look at her—she’s shown everyone who Shraddha Kapoor is.”

On her part, Kapoor says, “You have one life, and you want to try and do whatever you can do in it. Why not? Whether you are good at it or suck at it or are great at it—that’s a different story.” Carpe diem.

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An edited version of this interview was the cover story of Harper’s Bazaar in October 2015. Read another interview of Shraddha Kapoor here.

Interview: Tabu

April 2013: Tabu embodies the best of the Indian film industry. Here she talks about her long and unexpected journey from Hyderabad to Hollywood.

The cover of Harper's Bazaar.

It is mid-afternoon when I get to Tabassum Hashmi’s home in a leafy building society in Lokhandwala, Mumbai. As I wait, I take in the unpretentious Indo-fusion decor in warm earthy tones, dominated by a large, unmistakable Husain. Soon, Tabu emerges from her bedroom wearing a big smile, and promptly starts fussing over me: "Nimbu pani? Chai? Are you hot; should I turn on the AC?"

In a maroon kurta on a white churidar, Tabu is comfortable in her simple style. “When I’m not working, I wear casual Indians, dresses with classic lines and, most often, jeans—a lazy person’s dressing! Even when I dress up, the more I put on myself, the worse I feel.” Priyadarshini Rao has styled her look for over 10 years, even when she received the Padma Shri. She is also in a mutual admiration society with her go-to designer duo Abu-Sandeep, whose clothes she carries with great élan. Says Sandeep, “Tabu gets in to the skin of clothes; it’s almost like she enacts them.”

As we settle down, I tell her why we at Harper’s Bazaar believe she’s the ideal cover girl for this issue that celebrates a hundred years of Indian cinema: while most of her contemporaries have taken career breaks to settle down, she’s continued adding to her prestigious body of work; where many bemoan the lack of meaty roles for older women actors, she continues to get better, stronger roles that garner international attention, making her one of the most successful crossover actors; she’s worked in films across many Indian languages and in Hollywood, apart from Bollywood… “I don’t like the terms Bollywood, Tollywood, Kollywood,” she interjects passionately. “I know they’re accepted, even in the dictionary, But I feel they trivialise the Indian film industry. Why should we make our industry sound like a cheap imitation of Hollywood, when we have long before established an identity of our own?”

Point taken. I will soon find that Tabu holds strong opinions about the industry she entered reluctantly and by chance. “For my older sister, ['80s leading lady] Farah and I, growing up in a typical household in Hyderabad, there was no aspiration to be in films. We went to convent school, and both of us wore churidars beneath our uniforms. We were taught that girls didn’t laugh showing all their teeth.” At a birthday party in Bombay, while visiting their mum’s cinematographer brother, director Vijay Anand’s wife saw the 11-year-old and thought she’d be perfect as Dev Anand’s daughter in Hum Naujawan. “We thought: ‘Why not go? We’ll get to meet a hero.’”

Not only did he like and convince her to do the role, working for a few days every few months, he also screen tested Farah who had accompanied her. “Back in Hyderabad, Yashji called on our neighbour’s phone—we didn’t even have a phone at home—saying he wanted to cast Farah. Mum was like, ‘Yash Chopra who?’ That’s how little we knew about the industry!”

The Harper's Bazaar cover story.

It was a big decision, and the Hashmi family didn’t realise how life would change. Tabu visited Farah in Bombay, often accompanying her on outdoor schedules, before moving here for college. It was Shekhar Kapur who convinced her to do “just one film” before studying further: Dushmani, with Sunny Deol, which never materialised, and then Prem, with Sanjay Kapur that was six years in the making. “If films hadn’t happened, don't think I would have been a professional. I’d be married to a nice boy in Hyderabad or London, with two-three kids,” she laughs.  

Has the Indian film industry changed since she started? “Cinema and the industry reflect the society we live in, and the social, generational and technological changes that are in all walks of life. People communicate more openly and freely now; there are more specialisations and designations; and budgets are much bigger. But, I don't see many changes in the power structure and hierarchy.” In fact, she says, there are just a few degrees of difference between the Indian and Hollywood industries: “Ultimately, it’s a business.” It is with this that she brushes away a question about film dynasties. “In every industry, there are people who run family businesses, so too in films. Also, if you’ve grown up in a family that acts or directs, it’s in your nature and nurture. Doctors’ children often become doctors; my mother is a teacher like my grandparents, I might have been one too—it’s okay if people want to carry on their families’ legacies. I don’t see it as a problem and don’t judge it. Ultimately, it is your personal journey, and only work will become your identity.”

Tabu is uniquely qualified to talk about Hollywood, with two major films, Mira Nair’s The Namesake and, recently, Ang Lee’s Oscar-winning Life of Pi to her credit, both with Irrfan Khan, who says she has a special place in his life. “Tabu and I have a great work connection; we even won the Padma Shri in the same year!” When I ask Tabu about this pairing, she laughs, “Maybe we are easy to cast.” I chide her for being modest, so she adds, “I think The Namesake has given us international recall.” Life of Pi is special because its universal message has touched so many people. “Some pieces of work use you for a greater purpose that consumes you. Every human being has existentialist questions, and Pi’s journey is common to all races, religions, countries and nationalities. I am honoured that the director chose an Indian family to be the vessel for this message.”

Consciously or not, she’s become the poster child for art-house cinema, an actor instead of a ‘heroine’. “Images and perceptions are made in retrospect. I chose from the projects that were being offered to me. I was just working, I was not thinking about working. I’m fortunate I’ve made such a strong and significant place for myself.” She wishes she had a life plan, but has long since realised that going with the flow, following her heart is the only way for her. “I live life from my feelings, and happiness comes from personal satisfaction from my work, love and respect from my peers and audiences, my relationships, and my friends.” She counts Vishal Bhardwaj’s 2003 film Maqbool as the one that has given her the most creative satisfaction.

She’s met most of her friends through work, and feels a “connection, comfort and camaraderie”, with others who work in films. And this begs the question: does this mean she’s going to end up with someone from the film industry?

Tabu mock balks at this “perennial question”, then says she doesn’t know. “When there is no one on the horizon, what’s the point in dissecting what he’s like, which industry he’s from? What can I say about a relationship, especially if it doesn’t exist!” Does she aspire to children? “That’s very hypothetical,” she exclaims. “There’s no man, no marriage, where’s the question of children...!”

Over the course of our conversation, Tabu has mentioned wanting to study abroad for six months, maybe teach acting, and her upcoming film Mental in which she plays Salman Khan’s sister. "What’s next?" I ask as I prepare to wrap up. “I don’t plan, and my life is unpredictable. If you read this interview a year later, things will be so different that you’ll probably laugh.” 

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An edited version of this interview was the cover story of Harper's Bazaar in April 2013.

Interview: Kangana Ranaut

December 2012: Already an industry veteran at 25, the smart, sassy and spunky Kangana Ranaut talks about creativity, love and work as she lives life on her own terms.

The cover of Harper's Bazaar.

“You can come earlier if you’d like: Kangana is running a little ahead of schedule,” says her sister Rangoli when I call to confirm the interview a few hours before time. Not what you expect when you call for a star in the middle of a hectic shoot schedule, when you’ve been warned that 30 minutes is all you’ve got. And when I arrive at Elphinstone College—where she is shooting Dharma Productions’ latest, Ungli—at two on a Sunday afternoon, she emerges quickly and fuss-free from her van.

But there are a lot of things about Kangana Ranaut that are refreshing surprises. Sans make-up, in a black top and jeans, with her curly mop casually framing her face, she could pass as a tall, lean, pretty Mumbai college student, with a friendly, confident, no-frills attitude—and smarts—to match.

It is no surprise that this spunky, free-spirited Manali girl feels right at home in the city she adopted over seven years ago, albeit she misses the mountains and skiing. “Where I come from there are so many restrictions, social things to be followed. To me, Mumbai means freedom. You don’t know one another here; you don’t even know your neighbour. You can do anything, say or wear anything,” she eulogises.

And what does she like to wear? “I wear exciting clothes,” she laughs, listing Sabyachi, Gavin Miguel and Rohit Bal as her favourite designers. “My style is androgynous, manly yet feminine. I use a lot of accessories like stoles, boots, men’s bags, aviators and denim shirts.” She strongly believes that the way you dress should sync with the way you want to be seen—“If a girl is sitting next to me with her cleavage in my face, I won’t be able to concentrate on conversation, let alone a man!”—and that body language and how you project your sexuality are important when at work. “When you want respect, and to get attention in the right way for the right reasons—and not for your curves or because you’re a girl—you need to dress powerfully. No, not like a man, that’s not the idea. The idea is to be comfortable with your sexuality but, at the same time, not overdo it.”

The Harper's Bazaar cover story.

In some ways, hers is a modern-day fairy-tale Mumbai story with a powerful woman protagonist, isn’t it? From Manali and Dehradun to Delhi to model and do theatre with Arvind Gaur, to being discovered in a Mumbai café by Anurag Basu for the lead role in her 2006 blockbuster debut film… She cuts me off: “I wasn’t discovered in a café; I gave over 20 auditions for Gangster!” Kangana takes pride in where she’s reached, claiming credit for her hard work where it’s due, rubbishing the story that attributes her success merely to a lucky break. This she balances with an easy modesty, making the dynastic Bollywood, peppered with larger-than-life godfathers, out to be a true meritocracy. “I don’t know how fake this sounds but it’s not very hard to be part of Bollywood. You need to learn a skill, be good at it. If I hadn’t gotten Gangster, I would have gotten something else. A capable person is a capable person… I could be a sweeper and still be a damn good one. The thing is: do you really have the courage to follow your dreams while being practical and in touch with life.”

It’s not like she hasn’t had her fair share of reality checks. In October 2006, riding high on the success of her big debut film, she received news that her sister had been the victim of an acid attack in Dehradun. She talks about the time with deep maturity and understanding. “There are so many sad things that happen in the the world, so many people facing tragedy. Sometimes it just happens to people who are close to us—there’s no looking back, you just deal with it. You have to accept tragedy the way you accept happiness. You accept good people and hold goodness around you; in the same way evil does exist and there isn’t much you can do about it.”

At 25, six years since her debut, she has blockbusters like Fashion and Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai, and fizzlers alike to her name. 2013 will see her among an ensemble cast in Sanjay Gupta’s Shootout at Wadala, slated for a January release, and in Rakesh Roshan’s Krrish 3, alongside Hrithik Roshan, Priyanka Chopra and Vivek Oberoi, around Diwali. “I was very flexible, I still am. Now it’s great to be in this space where I have options and am getting to play a variety of characters.” But ask her which of the whole gamut of roles she’s essayed has satisfied her the most, and pat comes the reply: “As a creative person, nothing really satisfies me. I’m always restless wanting to do something, to find something. But I kind of enjoy doing different things.”

The ‘different things’ includes direction, something she sees herself pursuing long-term. In July, she directed her first short film in Los Angeles with an all-American cast and crew, about a dog and a four-year-old boy. “Direction satisfies me—temporarily, at least. I think it utilises all my creative energies.” Ask her to name a film she’d have liked to have directed, and she doesn’t blink. “No Country for Old Men,” she says, “I think it’s perfect.”

As our conversation meanders to Bollywood and the media, then versus now, Kangana declares that she’d like to have been born two decades earlier. “Simi [Garewal] and Ashaji [Bhosle] are good friends, and they tell me stories of the sixties and seventies. I think that generation had a lot more fun than we do, they were a lot more open and chilled out—people were in simultaneous live-in relationships, many were openly homosexual.” I opine that one of the reasons was that the media wasn’t reporting your every move, so image management wasn’t so central to behaviour and there was a bit of mystique behind closed doors. “Yeah. Even when Ajay [Devgn] tells me stories, I am amazed at how free they felt. Today we are scrutinised and criticised for everything we do, and so there is no freedom enjoy stardom and be a bit real. Look at the guys, so focused on work, and all the girls, Miss Goody Two Shoes. There isn’t a moment where you will see them losing it or doing crazy things. Everybody’s boring!”

The Indian media, she feels, is particularly unrelenting. “In Hollywood, if reviewers don’t like a film or your acting, they are dismissive. Here, they make it a point to rub it in your face.” Ditto for wardrobe malfunctions. “If a performer or artist has an incident, the ‘news’ is rerun over and over. It’s often just a pin or a thread that’s come undone: move on, the artist deserves some respect.”

Kangana, for one, hasn’t been a boring Goody Two Shoes in the public eye; she’s been real. There’s been that sordid affair with Aditya Pancholi involving an ugly public spat, then came Adhyayan Suman, and we recently heard she’s no longer seeing her British boyfriend, doctor-musician Nicholas Lafferty.

After a flicker of a smile, I get a nonchalant, give-a-damn answer, none of this just-good-friends pussyfooting. “I am an urban girl. It’s okay to date and sometimes you break up. It doesn’t really affect me anymore.” She admits to enjoying her last relationship and says it was the distance and “too much space” that did it in. I remind her that she had been quite excited about the space of this long-distance relationship at the start. “It was new, a refreshing change, but you evolve, expectations change… Nicholas and I just thought we should each see if we have better opportunities, the possibility of romantic relationships closer by.”

So is there? “Hopefully, yes, let’s see,” she says with a twinkle in her eye. “I can’t wake up one morning and say ‘Let’s mingle today!’, so I’m just going with the flow.”

As I’m about to leave, I point out that she appears so much in control—she knows how she wants to live, what she wants to do and wear, and does it, irrespective of the scrutiny. “You’re jumping to conclusions,” she laughs, “Sometimes I don’t feel in control at all!” But she is an inspiring woman, successful and living life on her own terms. “Yeah. I guess that’s what makes me a Harper’s cover girl!”

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An edited version of this interview was the cover story of Harper's Bazaar in December 2012.