Malavika’s Mumbaistan: Ministry of Walks

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that these days A- list stars don’t walk out of the airport –they run. This week’s Malavika’s Mumbaistan explores what it means to be talking the Walk Bollywood-Ishtyle

The Airport Walk:

Malavika’s Mumbaistan: Ministry of Walks

It was bound to happen: along with ‘the airport look’ arrived ‘the airport walk.’ This comes in many forms. And depends on what level of branch on the Bollywood tree you occupy. If you’re an aspiring or perspiring star, then the Airport Walk is more often than not a wow! You guys actually showed up to take my pictures (after the 3 calls from my assistant). Thanks guys!! Really appreciate it: at this point, it’s more important for my career than my show-reel and portfolio that’s gathering dust in a famous casting director’s file. And I know I shouldn’t show how thrilled I am and act all nonchalant and cool -but I’m so stoked I can’t help flashing V signs and ear to ear grins and obliging all of you by turning this way and that and basically signalling the equivalent of ‘Look Mum, I’ve arrived…’

But of course, that’s for the arrivistes. Once you cross a certain threshold of success in the industry then your walk gets more reserved, hurried, tense, fraught. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that these days A- list stars don’t walk out of the airport –they run. And God help them with their PR the next day, as the slightest flicker of briskness on their past can and will be interpreted as brashness no matter that they are rushing to make it on time for- an important professional commitment, meet a beloved or ailing family member, or just get to a decent loo to relieve their bursting bladder…

The ‘I’m da’ King of the Jungle Walk:

A -list star exits his car, and struts his box office sovereignty in every nano- second of his advance to his destination (two feet away). Think WWF or Animal Kingdom. Each twitch, strain of his tourniquet -tight jeans, flicker of his brow or tensing of his jaw muscle is meant to be a lesson in his eminence over ordinary mortals in his path After all, it’s not so much a walk as a full- blown cinematic entry scene, without the background score. And like WWF or the animal world it is meant to convey full- on jungle rule machismo, superiority and dominance.

The Revenge Walk:

This appears to be the newest addition to the repertoire. You’re a major A list star, possibly even a mega one, but you’ve got a huge chip on your shoulder, because you’ve been dumped very publicly and in full gaze of the media, by the love of your life. That’s when you send out a signal with your Revenge Walk. Each step must show your power, supremacy might –and of course how happy you are without their unwanted presence by your side. Basically, the revenge walk is the equivalent of posting a ‘happy’ pix of yourself on social media for the benefit of your ex, the message being: ‘Eat dirt you worm.’

The gym walk:

This has more or less been set in stone by the Old Guard. For many it comprises more or less their entire career as well as their raison d’etre. You might think arriving and departing from a gym is a simple exercise not worthy of being afforded much thought or recorded for posterity. But ah, that’s where you’re wrong: because of course, current wisdom holds that posterity must see your posterior in action from every angle. So: Wearing the skimpiest gym gear as legally possible? Check; cell phone to ear to indicate busy life beyond the 10 daily steps from car to gym door? Check; toned abs sucked in? Check. Said posterior stuck out? Check. Phew: Who said going to the gym was easy?

(Thank god once you enter they’ve reserved a cosy corner for you, where you can zzzz for an hour before you follow the whole routine in reverse order on your way out.)

The Party / Red Carpet walk:

There’s the arrival walk: Star gets out of the car. Star has three and a half steps to manoeuvre themselves until the door. But Star is instantly surrounded by paps, fans, security detail, curious onlookers, urchins, other party guests, the anxious host etc etc.

So star can: use the moment as an easy PR exercise, pause, wave, smile and pose, and also buttress their image by winning themselves a few extra brownie points, by cuddling an urchin, enquiring about someone’s well being, greeting the greeters.

Or star can: brace themselves, head bent, eyes down to avoid all human contact and find the entrance door to the party in warp time. Of course, the route a star chooses depends on how big a star they are, how much their last film earned at the box office and most importantly-when their next film is releasing…

(Also if star happens to be in a new relationship this is the time they can announce the presence of their significant other in their life with cute but pointed demonstrations of PDA)

(As for The Party Exit walk? Keep it simple: head down, eyes low, one step in front of the other and hope you don’t puke the 14 tequila shots you’ve just imbibed before you make it to your car.)

The Devil Wears Nada Walk:

This one’s been perfected by a whole slew of aspiring nymphets recently and their number appears to be increasing alarmingly. It’s s the ‘Look at me, I’m zany and outrageous! Look at me, I’m scandalous! Look at me I say what I want and do what I feel and I don’t give a damn (as long as the cameras keep clicking and my insta followers keep growing to walk’

The Miss Congeniality walk:

This one’s the opposite of the Devil Wears Nada walk. It’s the sweet, coy, shy, nice girl next door virtue signalling walk. What virtue signalling you ask? Blush, giggle, pet a stray dog, help an old lady cross the street (without asking if she wanted to in the first-place) all guaranteed to win you many “Cho Chweet” comments and endear you further to the hearts of your followers.

The Kid’s Birthday Walk:

As walks go this one is painful to witness. A star/celebrity kid’s birthday. You would think the hosts who have spent zillions on the elaborate party effects and party theme would ensure a safe and private entrance and exit so the kids do not get traumatised by the commotion, noise, crush, pushing and shovelling that will ensue, right? But no, here too the omnipotent publicity machine is on full volume: So you watch as hapless kids, too young to be thrust in the limelight are whistled at, heckled, ordered to look this way and that, manhandled by their overbearing staff and subjected to stuff they have scarcely any emotional maturity to handle, ensuring that years of PTSD are certainly part of the give back presents for the tiny attendees of these events.