His yellow briefs were the first symbol of male sexualization in commercial Hindi cinema, and since then he’s gone from bankable actor to astute producer. But even after 13 years, John Abraham feels like he never truly belonged. No matter. When it comes to changing the system, the 94kg powerhouse believes that the maximum damage can be caused from the outside.
There’s a dizzying range of cuisines and condiments laid out for us on gleaming marble platforms, scattered across the large, breezy room like islands, in Abu Dhabi’s clinquant Emirates Palace Hotel. The most tantalizing of them are at the back, laden with quivering tarts and tortes, glazed cakes with webs of sugarwork, lolloping fountains of gleaming chocolate, fruits imported from around the world and other sweet, assorted exotica.
But none of us is eating dessert. After we finish our main course of labneh, muhammara and assorted sashimi, we stroll past the felonious counters, not daring to look directly at them, and settle for green tea. Each one of us wondering silently if John Abraham would perchance leave the table and step out for a smoke? But the 6-foot actor doesn’t smoke, drink – or eat sugar. And following an impassioned conversation – more akin to a monologue – on the poisonous effects of sugar on one’s metabolism, heart, liver and brain, for this meal, at least, neither do we.
He’s eyeing, in particular, his rather skinny makeup-artist while he eats his food. “One day,” he warns him, “you’re going to get a heart attack.” We take that as our cue and exit the dining room, where we were on a break for lunch.
Denne historien er fra August 2016-utgaven av GQ India.
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Denne historien er fra August 2016-utgaven av GQ India.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
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