How I Knew I NEVER Wanted To Be Popular

By The Messy Optimist

Also Published on The Writers’ Blokke

I open the front door to my house. And I hear a roar. Hundreds of people are chanting my name, “Roopa! Roopa! Roopa, look here! Roopa…we love you!” I’m immediately surrounded by paparazzi and flashlights almost blind me even as an adoring public touches my face, pulls my shirt, tugs my hands, screams my name and begs for selfies.

And I wake up.

I’m pretty sure that almost all of us on planet earth — at one time or the other — dream of being super famous and popular. Raise your hand if you haven’t daydreamed about coming out of your house and being accosted by paps and your fans? Of winning an Oscar or a Pulitzer? Most of us also wish to be recognized. We yearn to hear stories about ourselves, about how ‘our journey’ impacted other people’s lives. How a song we sang or a book we wrote or a role we performed brought tears of happiness and joy to others. How we are other people’s role models?

I know I have wanted and yearned for all of the above.

But a few years back something happened to me and I was forced to rethink this.

To reiterate, growing up I was very much someone who dreamed of fame and glory. And for awhile I was smug enough, pretty clueless enough, to actually believe that I would become very famous. Don’t worry. I’ve gotten over myself.

It was during one of my most productive (and successful) creative periods in my life. I was in the midst of writing my first non-fiction book called Star Dust — which was about the Indian film industry. For my final chapter in the book I shadowed an actor from Tamil cinema for a month. This actor’s path to stardom was the veritable story of the underdog who made it big. From someone who spent close to a decade being an unsuccessful actor — he suddenly found fame and glory. I was eager to learn about his journey from being a failed actor to someone on the cusp of superstardom and it was during that one month of shadowing him that I learned something extremely profound about myself.

That fateful day he was shooting in a very public and very crowded location. He had a vanity van for his use in-between shots. And most times I would just wait for him inside his extremely plush and cushy van and away from the crazy crowds that surrounded the shooting spot every day. Each time he would step out of his van…there’d be a roar outside the van. He’d be hounded for selfies and autographs. There’d be a constant buzzing sound outside his vanity when the crowds knew he was inside. They would hang around just waiting for one glimpse of their beloved star. The second he left the van to the shooting spot — they’d follow him there. Typically, when I had to leave, I’d always wait for the crowds to disperse so I could make a quick exit. But every time I heard the fans roar for him I’d yearn for the day I would get a similar response from ‘my fans.’

About lunch time — when I was in the midst of a conversation with him — I got a phone call asking me to come home ASAP. I apologized to him, gathered my bag and other sundry items, said goodbye to everyone inside the van (the actor and his staff) and opened the door.

And heard a ROAR.

YESSSSS!

It was the ROAR of approval I had always dreamed of. It lasted a few micro seconds and then gradually petered off.

Obviously.

The crowds were waiting for their idol and got me instead. The disappointment was palpable. Even as a part of me saw and took in what was happening and wanted to savor the moment that really wasn’t mine to begin with — I started to wade past the massive crowd and get home. I pushed, shoved and squeezed my way past the crowds when I heard questions tossed at me.

Who are you? Why did you come out of sir’s van?

Then came the more personal digs and comments.

Ooh! Looking good! and OMG! She is so old! and Are you his ‘little something on the side’? and If she can get him then so can my mother! and my absolute favorite of all…one single word Grandma!

Those few seconds, as I jostled my way through the teeming crowds — with their hands touching me, their screams in my ears, the really cheap and vulgar comments and sleazy laughter reverberating all around and those eyes, all those eyes staring at me — I hoped and prayed that the ground would open up and swallow me. While the ground didn’t open…I knew how to run. And I ran. I ran from there like a bat out of hell.

Because…

I HATED IT,

I HATED BEING LOOKED AT. I HATED BEING YELLED AT. I HATED BENG TOUCHED. I HATED, HATED, HATED ALL THOSE EYES AT ME.

The reality was/is that I like and want to be left alone.

That moment was also when I remembered glimpses of my past. How I preferred staying home than go out, how I’d be completely quiet and reserved and was happy and comfortable on my own when I was at a party. As much as I loved being with close friends, I rarely, if ever, made the move and met someone new on my own.

I’d never questioned these behaviors of mine before that day.

Thing is — I’m also no wallflower, either. I’m also very, very, very opinionated and let people know exactly what I think and where I stand on every issue under the sun. I also knew that I wanted to be in the very glamorous and people-driven film business as a writer and filmmaker.

So was I going crazy? I wanted to be in the people-business but didn’t want to handle people? That I wanted to be part of the most notorious industry in the world but really didn’t want the notoriety?

Not really.

I wanted to be an artist, a creator. I wanted to tell stories. I wanted to create new worlds that sprung from my imagination. I also wanted / needed recognition. I wanted validation for my art and my creativity.

But all those dreams of being jostled, screamed at, asked for selfies…when I got just a glimpse of that dream I thought I desperately needed to complete me — the reality was, I wanted none of it.

Fame and popularity…NO WAY. I didn’t want any of that after all.

It was the first time in my life when I realized that, sometimes, when your dreams do come true — you realize you never really wanted it after all. And that was one of the single-most profound moments of self-discovery in my own life journey.