“My wife has reduced a very important and sacred part of my life to cheap and lurid gossip. I had shared these dark secrets with my wife. If she chose to make them public at least she should’ve made sure to maintain a dignity about (sexual) experiences that are a valuable part of my life. This lady whom Nandita talks about, in such an undignified manner. was Laxmi, who raised my brother’s orphaned children and me. My relationship with this wonderful woman was a homage to her loyalty for looking after me unconditionally. (Sex with Laxmi) was not a furtive and sleazy experience? It was beautiful.”
This is Om Puri breathing fire on his wife after she revealed some eye-popping, scandalous instances about his sexual encounters with a maid at 14 yrs of age, followed by a series of sexcapades with several women in his biography ‘Unlikely Hero: The Story Of Om Puri’. A biography cum exposé, it all seemed like a despicable publicity stunt after Puri, who initially lashed out like a tiger, timidly turned into feline and apologized to his wife on TV.
So getting goosebumps, feeling obnoxious or have you become rather indifferent to such shoddy mediocrity driven publicity stunts. Not really, right? Considering it’s not the otherwise limelight craving eye-candies but a renowned and rather revered actor, who is the subject of a revealing biography that is a first hand account by his soul mate- his wife Nandita.
From a reel life showman to a wife-basher (verbally), Om Puri also later aplogised to her – this proved that the entire episode was a publicity giommick. The skeletons of Om Puri’s past have tumbled out at quite a price: his career and repute. After all, it’s quite a lot, if you ask me, to overlook one’s incestuous private life when it is so blatantly publicised for the crispy green notes.
Shocked, outraged? Yes, it’s bound to have that affect. That’s the USP of biographies, which makes them sell like hot cakes. The more scandalous, intimate and notorious content a book carries, the higher is its rating in the bestseller charts. And only this phenomenon could explain Katie Price superceding Booker winner Hilary Mantle in the best-seller list!
That’s what biographies of celebs do. They, many times, reduce reel life legends to lowly creatures thriving on cheap publicity to market their not so inspiring life stories. Reminds me of this famous saying, “A celebrity is a person who works hard all his life to become well known, then wears dark glasses to avoid being recognized.” These lines by Fred Allen largely echo the make belief and often hypocritical lives of the rich and the famous today.
Trying to reach atop the ladder of fame, they renounce more than just their morality to quench their thirst for stardom.
And it’s not only renowned celebs, who are giving into the greed but kids as young as 10 (Azhar and Rubina), who are lured into penning their autobiographies for an astounding sum of money.
Though it’s Puri’s biography that has got the nation talking, he isn’t the lone star to have landed in this literary soup. Preceding him are scores of Hollywood cotemporaries whose every teeny-weeny detail has been converted into juicy stories. Right from their raunchy bedroom secrets, dirt about estranged ex-lovers and husbands, sibling rivalries and excruciating parental pressure, everything is scripted and laid out to rouse public interest. Out to highlight their underdog-turned-superstar stories, years of toil is risked down the drain.
Be it the gimmick queen and plastic surgery buff Jordan who publishes new life stories with each passing year, Madonna’s conniving and manipulative streak exposed by her brother or tennis legend Andre Agassi, who spoke about his hatred for the sport that brought him near God like stature- oodles of criticism but bag full of moolah has compensated for nationwide shame.
Well no doubt they inspire on-screen, but in reality celebs miserably fail to live up their larger than life image. Their stories not only break the illusion it took them years to create, it also leaves fans repenting for laying their hands on the read. Making star-craved aficionados realise that their screen-gods are nothing but mere mortals, who gave into their demons time and again only to repent it in their biographies.
Here are a few
excerpts from some shocking tell alls.
I've been called a slapper, a freak and a bimbo. My first boyfriend was called Jeff. I made him wait a month before I let him have sex with me. I'm not easy. Except for the blokes I shag a bit sooner! Jeff had a small willy and I never really enjoyed the sex.
I decided to trade in Jeff for a boyfriend more fitting to my celebrity status, and soon I ended up with Dane Bowers. Both men had rather nondescript willies and they made me partake in unusual sexual practices.
I've had three operations to enhance my breasts. They look lovely and I've never regretted it. I did meet David Beckham. He held my hand while Posh wasn't looking. She's really rough without make-up.
I went off to do a Playboy shoot. All the bunnies shave their bush, just like me, and they all said how natural my breasts look. Peter Andre is the man of my dreams. He could launch my pop career. I'm tired of being "the girl who gets her tits out". Maybe it's time to drop my knickers.
-Katie Price in ‘Being Jordan’
Om grew up in an environment almost devoid of women. His mother was the only woman he knew for years until he reached his Mamaji’s place in Sanaur. There were no girls of his age and the only women he knew were his maternal aunts and the maids. He must have been around fourteen when he was ‘deflowered’. A fifty-five-year-old woman, Santi, used to provide help in his uncle’s house. Twice a day, water was drawn into the house with a hand pump and Om was asked to assist Santi in the job. Days went by and Om kept pressing the pump, till one day he realized that Santi would first touch, then caress and finally fondle him during the task. The young boy began to get turned on without knowing what was happening to him.
One day there was a power failure and in the dark, Santi grabbed Om, who was by then totally aroused. They slept together and the 14-year old felt really great having ‘come of age’. Dark with a toothless grin, Santi was Om’s first lover.
The fourteen-year-old’s lust for Santi spilled over into a kind of attraction towards another older woman. This was his badi maami or older maternal aunt, Gomti Devi. It was perhaps this infatuation that led Om to caress the exposed navel of his other aunt, Satya Devi, one summer night on the family terrace under a moonlit sky. Though it was the younger aunt he was physically caressing, it was actually the aura of his older aunt that had overwhelmed him…
-Nandita in ‘The Unlikely Hero: The story of Om Puri’.
I play tennis for a living, even though I hate tennis, hate it with a dark and secret passion, and always have.
Of all the games men and women play, tennis is the closest to solitary confinement, which inevitably leads to self- talk, and for me the self- talk starts here in the afternoon shower. This is when I begin to say things to myself, crazy things, over and over, until I believe them.
-Andre Agassi in ‘Open’
Madonna is dancing on the table. Gwyneth joins her and they dance together. In the middle of the dance, Madonna grabs Gwyneth and kisses her full on the mouth. It's that sort of a night.
My friend Dan has brought a 19-year-old boy to the party with him. Madonna, in a knee-length pink chiffon Versace dress, is on the dance floor, dancing with a group of people.
Suddenly the boy squeezes up to Madonna. He edges between us, puts his arms around her, and they dance a slow dance close together. Within an instant, Guy strides across the dance floor. He kicks the boy in the leg to get his attention and drags him away. Then he swings his fist at him.
Madonna treats me as if I am nothing other than a serf paid to decorate her home. In the past, I researched fabric and furniture for her, narrowed the choice down to three samples. Now, though, she says three samples are not enough. She instructs me to bring her at least ten samples, photographs of at least ten types of chairs, and so on. And when I do, she says, she will then confer with Guy regarding the right choice.
I sense that her obstinacy stems from a deep desire to please Guy, and that he is secretly working to edge me out of every aspect of her life. When it comes to selecting the wood for his closet, I show him 12 samples and he tells me that they all look 'twee', using the word over and over. I get the message: I am gay and he doesn't want the house to reflect my sexuality, which is hardly likely.
-Christopher Ciccone in ‘Life with my sister Madonna’
(The views expressed by the author in the blog are his/her own)