When I think of the world of Indian cinema, a world where narratives glitter with hope and heartbreak, one name shines unmistakably bright—Karan Johar. And yet, I find myself asking: why have you, the craftsman of countless cinematic dreams, distanced yourself from the director’s chair?
Your journey as a filmmaker has always been one of remarkable dualities. From the tender emotionality of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai to the poignant complexities of My Name Is Khan, you’ve wielded your camera not just as a storyteller, but as a mirror reflecting the evolving ethos of an entire generation. With Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani, you once again proved that love stories can be as deeply layered as they are delightfully entertaining. Yet, between these cinematic gems, your directorial ventures have been scarce. Why?
Perhaps the weight of your legacy is heavy. Taking over Dharma Productions after your father’s passing, you transformed it into a powerhouse that has weathered storms that sank others. The entry of foreign studios may have upended the playing field, but you ensured that Dharma adapted, thrived, and innovated. Talent management, OTT content, and even advertising now bear your unmistakable touch. Yet, in this whirlwind of successes, I wonder—does the relentless weight of corporate ambition drown out the quieter call of creative passion?
And what of the “nepotism” label that seems unfairly tattooed on your name? It must hurt deeply, as the same audience that applauds Kapoor & Sons or Raazi accuses you of bias. The truth lies, as it often does, in shades of grey. Yes, you’ve launched Star Kids, but you’ve also championed unknown filmmakers, independent actors, and unconventional narratives. Few may remember that you brought The Lunchbox to Indian screens, giving it a mainstream platform that ensured it was not lost in the chaos of blockbusters. These are the choices of a man who values storytelling over stardom, no matter what the whispers claim.
Recently, you spoke of disillusionment—of movie stars demanding more than their films are worth, of projects abandoned because commerce won out over art. It’s disheartening, no doubt, to see the industry place fleeting vanity above enduring craft. But Karan, isn’t this the very moment for your voice to rise again? If anyone can recalibrate these shifting dynamics, it’s you.
Today’s younger audiences know you as the charismatic TV host, the fashion-forward influencer, and the producer of glossy student dramas. But do they know the Karan Johar who told India that love can transcend autism in My Name Is Khan? The Karan Johar who made us laugh, cry, and yearn through the lens of Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna?
The truth is, the film industry needs you—not just as a producer, but as a director. Your movies do not merely entertain; they start conversations, gently nudging viewers to rethink what they thought they knew. And in a world increasingly divided, we need more of that soft power.
So, dear Karan, why don’t you make more movies? We’re waiting to fall in love with your stories again. The director’s chair misses you. And, frankly, so do we.
By not focussing on what you are best at, you are being unfair to yourself and true lovers of cinema. Forget social media, paps, external validation, gossip and juicy jingoism. Throw away the Koffee and the frivolity. Embrace the challenge and the opportunity and rise like a Phoenix. Tell stories that matter.
See you at the cinemas, Karan!
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