Trivial pursuits

There was a time when celebrities lived secluded lives. These popular personalities were very seldom spotted in public places and there was a planned method to this deliberate isolation. The small doses of sightings by the adoring public helped to keep their spot on a pedestal and preserved the myth of them being different from the rest of us. 

They understood the adage that “familiarity breeds contempt”. So they erected large boundary walls around their palatial homes, installed darkened windows in their limousines and kept their persona hidden behind oversized sunglasses. 

It was a self-marketing technique at its finest. The more exclusive they were the more was the curiosity of their fans. The strategy of never answering their telephones was also a deliberate one. It helped them to invent excuses about their own unavailability. 

Once, as a fresh reporter I was chasing a story. This was more than two decades back in Dubai where I was assigned to interview a film star who was visiting from India. It was a big challenge for me at the time and I did not want to let my editor down. I was provided with all the details of the megastar, like his landline phone number, name of the hotel he was staying in and so on. I thought my assignment was as easy as a walk in the park. I soon realised that I was living in a fool’s paradise. 

My first call to him was on a Saturday morning. His assistant who picked up the phone told me that the film star was sleeping. An afternoon call, answered by the same voice, said that the actor was in the bathroom. 

A later call informed me that the celebrity was in the hotel gym. Still later in the evening, I was told that he went swimming, followed by a visit to the sauna, after which he was taking a nap and then again, he had disappeared to the bathroom. 

The next few days we established a similar sort of pattern. I dialled his number and the assistant would answer. We greeted each other and exchange some witty banter, but I never got through to the film star. The excuses were more and more authentic and his favourite place of disappearance was the bathroom where the actor spent large chunks of leisure hours. 

As time passed and my deadline loomed large, I was compelled to use drastic measures. I finally drove to the hotel where he was putting-up and after a bit of an argument with the concierge I was allowed to meet the film star. It was then that I made a shattering disclosure. The assistant and the actor were one and the same person and for the duration of that entire week, I was talking on the phone to the man himself. The superstar would simply change his voice and pretend to be his own assistant in order to enhance his exclusivity. 

But these days there is no such mystery about anyone. On the contrary, there is an avalanche of information about every public figure that is supplied by them through their individual Twitter feed. 

“Battery died on trimmer so part of beard still on face,” read a superstar’s Twitter entry recently. 

“His beard is dead? How did that happen?” questioned my spouse. 

“The battery of his trimming machine ran out,” I clarified. 

“Who cares?” my husband asked. 

“Trivial pursuits,” I said. 

“Long live his moustache!” he exclaimed.