» Trash of the Fortnight »
Forget the rule about not judging a book by its cover. The luridly hot pink cover with star-spangled Bollywood Boy Hrithik Roshan all ashimmer in a silvery leather contraption is what it seems: a kitschy take on the dream factory. Alas, Justine Hardy has not gone too far beyond harnessing the purple prose and heated imaginations of our "filmi" press into more pucca prose and put it all between hard covers. An overseas journalist, Hardy describes herself as a "chronicler of the anatomy of modern stardom".
Had she done just that, this wide-eyed traipse through tinsel town would’ve been more than just a cliche-studded diary—though often a perky one—of her year-long pursuit of Hrithik for an interview. The will she/won’t she meet him ends positively even if the meeting is a bit of an anti-climax. But all that waiting for Hrithik (star fathers, star secretaries et al) allows some funny moments. The asides from her maid Severin, the Haji Ali fruitwallah are interesting as are the reflections that come from the two ladies in La Belle beauty parlour.