Column

And it’s no fault of his that he gets serious — you can tell he’s uncomfortable with that emotion — it’s just that the last two times when I have watched him, he’s had a very serious sister-brother combination on his shows — and that makes them just not what they used to be.

First, there was the Chotta Nawab, Saif and his sister Soha, bringing in to the minimalist studio all the royal breeding and pedigree that only the world’s most beautiful palaces and expensive schools can bring.

Saif, impeccably turned out in a dark suit, legs folded perfectly, answering politely but looking like his anger lurked very close under the surface and he would bop Karan on — or throw a tantrum like his mother was famous for — if the questions got too personal — or silly.

And Soha — too intelligent to be wasted on bimbette roles in Bollywood, with her demeanour that spoke of decades of expensive drawing rooms, like Karan — slightly in awe of her brother, not knowing how much to reveal, how much to conceal. Both siblings too correct and level-headed and well brought up and taking themselves a little too seriously to be on a Karan show — where you expect giggles, and guffaws and a lie-o-metre that goes tring.

And then you had Sanjay Dutt and Priya. Sanjay, who has the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen, so sad that even when he smiles it never reaches his eyes — and Priya — a Congress politician — what can you expect from a Congress politician, but praise for Soniaji? Sanjay getting emotional and choked as he’s watching the replay of the accolades from his colleagues pour in, Sanjay talking with so much grief about his mother’s death and that of his late wife’s, Sanjay bursting with pride hearing his daughter now all grown up and sounding like a level-headed woman talk about her dad.

And Karan treading carefully, tiptoeing around subjects like terrorism and bomb blasts and death — things which a person like Karan should never have to deal with.

And then the talk turning to their late fathers, two of the most sterling human beings in Bollywood, looking down from somewhere above at their progeny, at which point you want to break down and cry.

No, give us the crazy mad riot of a girl called Kajol, her eyebrows crimping with laughter, the tears rolling down her cheeks. Or the jousting I’m-too-smart-for-this-talk-show repartee of Shah Rukh, or the school-boy pranks of Hrithik, please don’t let Karan go serious on us — we have the entire week of cricket coaches being murdered and fist-fights in parliament and imminent power cuts for that.

In Koffee with Karan we want to enter a world where everyone is young, good-looking and happy.

Karan is not built for doom and gloom — after all he’s the man who thinks KANK was a dark film.

s_malavika@dnaindia.net