Of all the people expected to give an insane celebrity interview, Om Puri would have come dead last on my list. In fact, he’d have come negative dead last if there’d been any such position. But thanks to Filmiholic and my favoritest tabloid in everty-ever, I’ve been proven wrong!
So did you know Om Puri has a biography coming out? It’s written by his wife Nandita. Puff piece alert, right? A wife writing about her famous husband? What’s she gonna do – provide a thrilling expose of his kitten-rescuing, puppy-cuddling, charitable life where he regularly saves the honor of somebody’s sister on the weekends because he’s too busy saving your blind mother from burning buildings during the week? Yawn.
Well, if we are to believe the Mumbai Mirror (oh, do let’s!), this biography is nothing of the kind. Unlikely Hero: The Story Of Om Puri is instead a no-holds barred, shine the torchlight into that dark cranny, don’t miss that cockroach over there, look at the man behind the famous name.
And what does that man do? Apparently, most of the time he has sex with maids. These revelations, about two women named Shanti and Laxmi, have made Om Puri “livid” because he feels his beautiful memories have now been put on par with Shiney Ahuja’s escapades.
Om says that Laxmi was one of the most important women in his life. “This lady whom Nandita talks in such an undignified manner was Laxmi, who raised me and my brother’s orphaned children. My relationship with this wonderful woman was a homage to her loyalty for looking after me unconditionally.” Om doesn’t deny he had sex with Laxmi.*
Om, Om – can I call you Om? I feel like I know you so well. No? Alright, Mr. Puri then. First of all, rule number one of any relationship? Do not discuss the ex. I understand there are people for whom maximum amounts of disclosure are the only way to go, but those people are… well, how do we put it? Certifiable.
Sooner or later, you and your loved one are going to be angry and upset because the dishes from last Monday are still in the sink or the credit card bill is overdue or the trash bin isn’t lined exactly the way you like it or the toilet paper has been inserted pointing down instead of up – and words are going to be exchanged at which point you do not want your loved one to remember that time you drunkenly hooked up with that hot tranny in that no-name bar off the interstate. Or, you know, alternatively, one day she might write a book about you, the real you, and you don’t want her to remember things like that then either.
Speaking of, what the hell were you thinking? Your wife is your biographer?! Don’t you know there’s only one scenario when that’s acceptable and that’s when you’re dead? See, if you were dead then A) you wouldn’t have to worry about what she wrote and B) if she wrote something less then complimentary then five billion people will line up in front of her door to call her names and tell her off for defaming the dead even if every single word she wrote could be triple sourced. Win-win.
Now with that out of the way, may I say something else, Mr. Puri?
BULLSHIT. I smells it.
Your wife wrote a biography and you had zero idea what was in it? Fine, you didn’t read the manuscript – but was she working off her elephantine memory for the whole project? She didn’t conduct one interview that made you go, “Huh, why is she asking about this stuff?”
It’s one thing for her to say:
Om has all the human foibles, just like all of us. He had sex as an adolescent with his maid and then he had a long liaison with the other lady who was also a maid. This was his way of coming out of his other relationships and demolishing class differences.
Which – bwahaha! But for her to say her publishers are angry…
Seriously? Her publishers are angry that their freaking Om Puri biography is getting tabloid press? Based on excerpts that who provided? The Tooth Fairy? Yeah right. They must be crying all the way to the bank.