THE DAWN CHORUS

Birdsong has been the soundtrack to the quiet days of the pandemic

.

Z i

’

Nobody in modern India, nobody alive, at least, has been untouched by Karan Johar [I speak metaphorically, of course, but then again...]. Will the real Karan Johar please stand up? Is he the 3am confidant to the superstars? Box office mogul? Starmaker? Pop icon? Twilight dancer? Influencer? Fashion iconoclast? iphone reflection lover? All of the above? Brand Johar is fourth only to Coke, Mcdonald’s and Haldiram’s in its universality, spreading across Ludhiana to NRI London. His chat shows are so intimate in their references, even the guests look slightly bewildered.

What an episode of Koffee With Karan is telling you, dear viewer, is this: I am Karan Johar. I have a lot of money. I am a genius. But I will disguise it all brilliantly in frivolity, meaningless banter and endless names dropping. I will have you glued to your television set, because your best friend is not Gauri Khan, because Katrina Kaif doesn’t ‘consult’ you about her love-life at 2:30am, and just try air-kissing Mrs. Joglekar in your building society B block, the way I do Janhvi Kapoor or Sid Malhotra.

We want to wear all those clothes he is wearing, Spanish designers with 10-word names, but on our five-figure incomes. We want to schmooze on Whatsapp with film stars, but only intimately so, with their pet name personas: Kadso and Bebo and Sha [a certain Mr. Khan, but no prizes for guessing]. We want to watch people who earn average yearly incomes about six times the annual