The first-ever joint-screen appearance of mother-son duo Sharmila Tagore and Saif Ali Khan was so unpretentious and life-like, it took me by surprise. I wasn’t prepared for their easy camaraderie, unusual lightness of being, and charming, disarming irreverence.
What was I expecting, really? Anything but what transpired on the Fabricare couch in the 50-minute episode. Inviting Tagore for Koffee was Karan Johar’s way to make up for not being able to cast her in his recent blockbuster Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani for Jamini’s role, which ultimately went to Shabana Azmi.
Throughout the episode, Johar fanboys around Tagore so hard that he cannot stop gushing about her and the golden, glorious era of Hindi cinema of which she was the undisputed queen. So taken he is with the past and so happy reveling in its nostalgia that he treats the present as a mere footnote.
I’m not complaining, for more than the tussle across time, the new episode underlines how not to take oneself too seriously. Together, Khan and Tagore are a masterclass in how not to let one’s legacy, illustrious career, celebrity, and exalted position in the cultural zeitgeist get to one’s head. On a show as hyper-performative as Koffee with Karan, they actually manage to look and feel like a mother and son having a nice conversation with a friend. It could have been in any other setting with any other confidant and it still would have been the same.
When one has lived in the public eye for as long as these two, a kind of comfort seeps in; it envelops you at all times, no matter how harsh the arc lights, how daunting the set, or how accomplished your company is. This comfort shows in everything Khan and Tagore say and all that they do while sipping their coffee.
They effortlessly share conflicting versions of the same story, chide, cut each other mid-sentence, and keep reaching out for the other’s hand, both as a mark of affection and reprimand. Doesn’t it always happen when you sit with family and friends and begin to narrate an anecdote only to realize that your sibling, partner or whoever else was also a part of that memory remembers it very differently?
I do not usually enjoy Koffee with Karan’s audiovisual (AV) segment, which essentially is just an excuse for the kin of the guests to gloat about them. But this season, Johar has been ensuring to cut through all the praise to allow a peek into who these people really are. Whether it be Deepika and Ranveer’s wedding video or Sunny Deol’s son revealing that the man who plays the dreaded Tara Singh on screen is a major teddy bear junkie in real life, the AVs have been a delight to watch. The new episode is no exception. Kareena Kapoor Khan tearing up as she calls Saifu her universe could very well be one of my top KwK moments from season 8. Or Sara Ali Khan declaring that her badi-amma (Tagore) actually likes her limericks (shayaris) that everyone else makes fun of. She goes on to recite one for her and like every precious, endearing grandparent who has ever taught their grandchild a nursery rhyme, Tagore nods and preempts the last rhyming word a heartbeat before Sara says it.
At one point, Johar asks Tagore if she likes Saif more than Soha. The veteran actor does not negate her putra moh. In reaction, she gets puzzling looks from both the men. To her surprise and my horror, she and we find out they don’t know what the phrase means. Saif asks if it’s in Bengali. After a bit of trying, he attempts to make sense of it through another vaguely similar-sounding phrase, moh and maya. Tagore gives up. Johar couldn’t care less. This is when the two men have been working in the Hindi film industry for over 25 years. It reminded me of another similar situation this season, when Kareena Kapoor Khan and Alia Bhatt couldn’t say how they were related in Hindi. They, of course, knew they were sisters-in-law, but were at a total loss for what the exact term for it is in Hindi.
In a telltale moment, Tagore talks about how, in her time, even though she and Tiger Pataudi lived together before they tied the knot, she would never dare as much as allude to it in company, despite everyone in their close circle knowing about it. She goes on to remark how the times have changed and how live-in relationships are so normal today that couples let the details slip into daily conversations without batting an eyelid.
But Bollywood is a bubble—iridescent, dreamy, aspirational, free-flowing, and far removed from the socio-cultural trappings of the vast, complex country it inhabits. Outside of it, have the times changed at all? It makes me think of the central conflict of Richa Chadha’s character in Neeraj Ghaywan’s Masaan (2015) or how countless young couples have to concoct lies each day—big and small, harmless and life-altering—to live how they want with who they want.
