Click here to follow Screen Digital on YouTube and stay updated with the latest from the world of cinema.
Is The Ba***ds of Bollywood Aryan Khan’s Om Shanti Om? He doesn’t go all ‘Deewangi Deewangi’, but his outsider gaze is borrowed from the internet
With Om Shanti Om, Farah Khan and Shah Rukh Khan showed how it takes another birth to go from an outsider to an insider in Bollywood. But Aryan Khan turns that concept on its head with his show.

Is it safe to say The Ba***ds of Bollywood is Aryan Khan’s Om Shanti Om? Farah Khan revealed at the show’s premiere that Aryan’s favourite film is her 2007 directorial, which starred his father Shah Rukh Khan. A reincarnation saga set in the 1970s and 2000s, it revolved around junior artist Om Makhija who’s reborn as Bollywood superstar Om Kapoor. It was Farah and Shah Rukh’s love letter to Hindi cinema, but also a well-wisher’s warning that it takes another birth for a junior artist to rise the scales and become a superstar in Bollywood.
Aryan’s show, in many ways, suggests the absolute opposite. His protagonist Aasman (played by Lakshya) is the ultimate outsider who literally leaps his way into Bollywood. Yes, all it takes is a Main Hoon Na-style leap (another potboiler by Farah and Shah Rukh) from a building into another at the start of Episode 1 for Aasman to scale the heights his name’s synonymous with.
Aryan doesn’t want to waste his time documenting the years it takes for a rank outsider to realise that evasive big bad Bollywood break. “Aur phir Luck By Chance ho gaya,” Aasman puts it casually, when asked “what’s your story?,” paying a hat tip to another seminal Bollywood-on-Bollywood movie, helmed by Farah’s cousin Zoya Akhtar. Aryan invokes that luck card yet again at the very end — turning the nepo baby vs outsider debate on its head.

Aryan is perceivably the most privileged nepo baby of the most defining outsider to have walked through the door of the Hindi film industry, So, for him, the currency doesn’t rest in the ironically restless marshes of Aram Nagar, but in the shifting dynamic between the internal powers that have shaped Bollywood for years and the external forces that want to question the status quo. Unlike star kids from a few years ago, he doesn’t dismiss nepotism as a second-class concern, but embraces it whole-heartedly and even flies with it.
Just a couple of months ago in Mohit Suri’s Saiyaara, Ahaan Panday is introduced as an outsider who even beats up a music critic for favouring the insider. Irony smiled, given he’s Ananya Panday’s cousin. But the audience lapped it up and how, because they don’t care as much about the narrative double standards, but more about the basic ask that the princes of Bollywood at least acknowledge the elephant in the room and try to tame it.
Aryan milks the most out of this perennial kashmakash between the one born in a hero’s home and the one born a hero. Given his legacy, he enjoys the vantage point to represent both sides, but unlike Farah or Shah Rukh, he hasn’t hustled on the sidelines enough to do justice to the outsider gaze. So, he does what he knows best — borrow that gaze from the internet. After all, what is The Ba***ds of Bollywood if not a potpourri of Reddit threads, viral memes, trending Reels, and YouTube conspiracy explainers?
In fact, Aryan has rolled all of these into one and put it on steroids. He gets no one less but Karan Johar to boss around as “the movie mafia.” “You know how much I love outsiders,” he says while dismissing Ajay Talwar (Bobby Deol), the IRL-Shah Rukh Khan-counterpart of the show. Kangana Ranaut’s eyes would pop out in fury to see how much Johar is waving the nepotism flag here, without abandon.

Everything that was levelled against Bollywood as a soft target in the last five to seven years finds not just a mention, but forms a plot point in the show. Aryan doesn’t even spare himself and brings in a Sameer Wankhede lookalike to raid a Bollywood drugs party and frame a rising star as the scapegoat. “Say no to drugs,” says a character at the end of the first episode, followed by the card “Directed by Aryan Khan” making its presence felt.
But that’s the most personal, if not insightful, Aryan gets right till the end of the show. Because every other trope he uses in between is a page out of the modern glossy film magazine that’s the internet. It’s a masterstroke to rope in Emraan Hashmi as a backup intimacy coach, but to have Raghav Juyal’s North Indian Muslim character Parvez croon “Kaho Na Kaho” to him is funny only because it subscribes to the parallel cult sustained by the internet that the actor enjoyed with his small-town brand of blockbuster cinema.
Shah Rukh hasn’t shied away from playing the apex Bollywood superstar he did in films like Om Shanti Om, Billu (2009), and Fan (2016), but for Aryan to get Bobby Deol as Ajay Talwar instead makes for a fascinating casting coup. Bobby, the younger son of Dharmendra and the younger brother of Sunny Deol, is no outsider to Bollywood. But his resurrection from a has-been star to a formidable force is owed, in a large way, to the internet.
‘Bobbywood,’ his internet brand fuelled by clips from bangers like “Duniya Haseeno Ka Mela” and “Soldier Soldier Meethi Baatein,” which are liberally used as background plot and score in the show. Why not other bangers like “Tera Rang Balle Balle” or “Kiss of Love”? Because the internet doesn’t approve of them, as much. Even the choice of his luxury car — a baby pink Ferrari — is a nod to the desi internet phenomenon of “Barbie Deol” around the release of Greta Gerwig’s 2023 blockbuster.

To his credit, Aryan isn’t (mostly) guilty of using his father’s access to make cameos a spectator sport, much like how Shah Rukh did in the song “Deewangi Deewangi” in Om Shanti Om, the three item numbers in Billu, the dream sequence of “Phir Milenge Chalte Chalte” in Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, or the shooting stars scene in Zero. In fact, he uses his father’s muscle to get the requisite permissions to use songs and film references beyond Red Chillies Entertainment’s catalogue.
It was undoubtedly a cinematic high to watch those 31 stars pop up and strike their signature steps with Shah Rukh in “Deewangi Deewangi.” But in this medium, in this format, and most crucially, in this era, that song won’t cast the same spell. Because the internet-fuelled audience is not as interested in getting blinded by the stardust as they’re in decoding the Stardust-like blind items. As a film journalist, you’re asked more to spill the hot gossip about a star than to contribute to their enigma.

So, when a Ranveer Singh fakes a limp to opt out of a Karan Johar movie, or when a rising star threatens to smash a beer bottle on a critic’s head, or when a self-made star curses his own spoilt brat, or when the paparazzi get disappointed after Disha Patani puts on a robe on the red carpet, these cameos and Easter eggs hit the mark because they’re accompanied by the wit and layers needed to make star power great again. That’s exactly why the “Filmfirst Awards” sequence falls flat on its face, despite Maheep Kapoor’s “don’t-be-like-Aryan” quip.
It challenges the iconic status of the film awards sequence orchestrated by Farah in Om Shanti Om. Farah had combined her goodwill with good ol’ hustle, put a camera outside an actual awards event, and guerrilla-directed that sequence. It feels organic and earned as opposed to the manufactured and manicured proceedings in The Ba***ds of Bollywood. Farah may have been born in the film industry, but it’s her wicked sense of humour and years of hustle that have helped her bounce back from the low phase post her father’s bankruptcy. That’s why she just gets the audience’s pulse — even in her cooking vlogs with Dileep today, she can use her access to get stars on her channel, but the undisputed star remains her humble cook.
Similarly, Shah Rukh can convincingly play a Makhija as well as a Kapoor, a Gaurav from Chandni Chowk as well as an Aryan Khanna from Fan, a Surinder Suri as well as a Raj from Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi. Because that dual life is a part of his story. He’s traversed the full spectrum, from aspiration to arrogance, from pompousness to humility, and from wide-eyed wonder to roll-your-eyes boredom. Aryan attempts to showcase that range too, but he feels quite short when it comes to depicting the middle-class Delhi family.
Friendship, family, and ambition are easy emotions to warm up to, but breathing life into them isn’t a skill that can be borrowed from the internet. That’s why those portions feel too one-dimensional and convenient when compared to those set in the middle of the jungle that’s Bollywood. Every time we go back to Aasman’s family, it feels like Aryan is asking us from behind the lens: “Tum bore toh nahi ho rahi na?” like junior artist Om asks superstar Shantipriya in Om Shanti Om. Like she’s just that Notting Hill star in search for a normal, happy family life, we’re also that audience who will lap up a Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge with as much fanfare as a Pathaan, as long as what we see on the screen is authentic and heartfelt.
The only chord Aryan strikes with the audience as far as the outsider gaze is concerned is their growing self-respect. An outsider like Aasman doesn’t fear losing it all, so he swears by his father’s mantra: to always look the bully in the eye, even if that involves punching a superstar on stage. A commoner like Parvez turning down Ranveer Singh’s bribe of a luxury watch to delete a controversial video from his phone. Or a Manoj Pahwa insisting that putting their foot down is the only way to get a foot in the door anymore.
But that gaze is also deduced from the internet, given it reflects the audience’s shrinking will to worship Bollywood. They want question and make it feel accountable. That’s a refreshing update on Konkona Sen Sharma’s character in Luck By Chance, who spends years struggling in the film industry to finally come to terms with her niche in the larger scheme, acknowledging the ethical cost that comes with the ascent. That climax — of shifting the perspective back from Farhan Akhtar’s calculating outsider’s journey back to Konkona’s assured stand — crystallized Zoya’s directorial voice.
Similarly, Aryan also employs that much-talked-about twist in the end to highlight his subversive directorial voice. Throughout the show, he has us believe that it’s a satirical takedown of Bollywood, that those run the business are the ba****ads. But that twist puts the outsider and the nepo baby on the same level-playing field in the most unexpected manner. The outsider who prides himself on being an industry invader turns out to be a closeted insider. His mother, who walked away from the industry after a fruitless struggle of 10 years, reveals how she’s tied to the place she despises the most with the umbilical chord.
Also Read — Meta humour and brain rot: why Internet loves The Ba***ds of Bollywood
It takes Jaraj Saxena (Rajat Bedi), a long-lost hero, to point us to that twist. No better guy than him to spot a background dancer, hiding in plain sight. That’s also a part of Aryan’s subversive gaze when we realize that the desperate Raj from Koi… Mil Gaya is really the scene-stealing Raj from DDLJ who asks us to palat and view the show in a whole new light. That the joke was on not only the industry, but also us who dump on it. Because the next thing you know, you may be in bed with them, when you least want it. Or worse, you may even be related to them. You don’t need reincarnation anymore; all you need is a good ol’ Bobby Deol banger.


Photos
- 01
- 02
- 03
- 04
- 05