Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone were recently seen enjoying some quiet time at their new Bandra home. Captured in relaxed, candid moments on their balcony, the couple appeared to be soaking in a peaceful break from their otherwise high-octane professional lives.

Notably, the new images have drawn attention to Deepika, with fans quickly noticing her visible baby bump. The couple, who are already parents to their daughter Dua, who was born on September 8, 2024, recently shared the good news that they are expecting their second child. The announcement, made through a wholesome social media post was met with love from fans and peers across the industry.

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Ranveer Singh is currently riding high on the massive box office success of his latest outing, Dhurandhar: The Revenge, which was a monumental box office hit. He is now gearing up for his next project, Pralay. Directed by Jai Mehta, the film is touted as a large-scale, post-apocalyptic zombie thriller and marks a special milestone for Ranveer as it is the first production under his own banner, Maa Kasam Films.

Ranveer was also in the news recently for his exit from Don 3, which led to a non-cooperative directive from the Federation of Western India Cine Employees (FWICE). However, the FWICE officially lifted the directive last week encouraging both the actor and the production house to engage in constructive dialogue to resolve the matter.

On her part, Deepika Padukone is set to light up the silver screen next in the much-awaited film, King, starring alongside Shah Rukh Khan. The film is currently scheduled to  release in theatres on December 24, 2026, promising a cinematic treat for audiences this Christmas. Directed by Siddharth Anand, the film boasts of an ensemble cast also starring Abhishek Bachchan, Suhana Khan, Arshad Warsi, Abhay Verma, Raghav Juyal among others. 

Also Read: PHOTOS: Deepika Padukone and Ranveer Singh Steal The Spotlight at Cousin Saumya’s Wedding

“Cinema has always been at its most powerful when it asks questions rather than provides convenient answers.

As a producer, I have often been asked what draws me to a particular story. Is it the scale? The commercial potential? The stars attached to it? While all of those factors play a role in the practical realities of filmmaking, the truth is that I have always been drawn to stories that leave me unsettled, curious, and compelled to engage with them long after I have finished reading them. That was my experience when I first encountered Bandar.

From the outset, I was aware that this was not a conventional film. It dealt with a subject that many would consider uncomfortable. It explored questions that do not lend themselves to easy answers. More importantly, it refused to divide the world neatly into heroes and villains. In an age where public discourse often demands certainty and instant judgement, the film chose nuance. That, ironically, is what made it both risky and necessary. 

We are living in a time when conversations are increasingly polarised. Complex issues are often reduced to competing slogans. The space for uncertainty, debate, and reflection appears to be shrinking. Yet it is precisely within that space that meaningful storytelling can thrive.

When I decided to back Bandar, it was not because I believed everyone would agree with its perspective. Nor was it because I expected the film to avoid criticism. In fact, I anticipated strong reactions. Any story that engages with difficult social realities is bound to invite differing opinions. But disagreement is not something art should fear.

Some of the most important films ever made were initially met with resistance, skepticism, or discomfort. Their value lay not in providing solutions but in encouraging audiences to think, question, and discuss. For me, the role of a producer extends beyond financing a project. It is about creating space for stories that deserve to exist. Not every film needs to be comfortable. Not every film needs to follow established formulas. If cinema is to remain relevant, it must continue to engage with the complexities of the world around us.

The easier path is often to choose familiarity. Sequels, franchises, and proven formulas exist for a reason. They provide a degree of certainty in an increasingly unpredictable business. There is nothing inherently wrong with that. But if every decision is driven solely by safety, we risk losing the very thing that makes cinema exciting: the possibility of discovering something new. Original stories carry risk. They always have. Yet they are also responsible for moving the medium forward.

Whether audiences ultimately agree or disagree with Bandar is entirely their prerogative. What matters to me is that the film encourages conversation. That it invites people to engage with ideas rather than look away from them. That it treats viewers as thinking individuals capable of arriving at their own conclusions.

As filmmakers, we cannot control how a story will be received. We can only control whether we approach it with honesty and conviction. That is what attracted me to Bandar. Not certainty, but courage. The courage to engage with a difficult subject. The courage to embrace nuance. And the courage to trust audiences with complexity.

In the end, I believe cinema should do more than entertain. It should challenge us, provoke us, and occasionally make us uncomfortable. Because sometimes the stories that generate the most debate are also the ones that stay with us the longest.

In the end I will sign off with two thoughts : “Art must comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.””

Also Read: Disha Patani photographed in Juhu at Nikhil Dwivedi’s office

On Dimple Kapadia’s birthday, Filmfare’s Editor-in-Chief Jitesh Pillaai pens a heartfelt tribute to one of Indian cinema’s most fascinating stars. From her meteoric debut to her enduring legacy, Dimple Kapadia has always followed her own path and enriched every era she has been part of. 

In his words:

Birthdays always need a replug. Why do I love Dimple Kapadia? Because she’s exasperatingly beautiful and gorgeous, incredibly gifted, and never quite got her due.

Why she didn’t is perhaps due to the vagaries of destiny, her own laid-back attitude, or just a lack of foresight. When Bobby (1973) was released, she became the nation’s sweetheart, and before the film even hit theatres, she was married to a reigning, temperamental superstar. She was barely sixteen.

Some fairy tales don’t have a happily ever after.

She came back at twenty-six, with two kids in tow, to do Saagar (1985). And the rest is her story. With lacerating performances in Kaash (1987), Lekin… (1991), and Rudaali (1993), she was also amazing in films like Insaaf (1987), Aitbaar (1985), Prahaar (1991), Drishti (1990), and a Bengali film by Mrinal Sen, which very few have seen, Antareen (1993). There were always talks that she would be seen in films with Gulzar, Aparna Sen, Shyam Benegal, and Sai Paranjpye.

That juxtaposition is exactly why she is so endlessly fascinating. You go straight from the ethereal, aching grief of Lekin… (1991) or the fractured, quiet sophistication of Drishti (1990) to the glorious, unhinged excess of 1980s pulp.

The dacoit movie you are thinking of is likely Gunahon Ka Faisla (1988), where she played the dual roles of Shanno and Durga alongside Shatrughan Sinha, or perhaps Mahaveera (1988) with Raaj Kumar and Shatrughan, where the narrative logic was thin but her raw, unfiltered commitment to the frame was absolute. That image of her letting go so completely that the phlegm runs down her nose is the ultimate proof: she never had the vanity that cripples lesser actors. She didn’t protect her beauty on screen; she protected the truth of the moment, no matter how unlovely or messy it looked.

A few years ago, Tenet (2020) was to be released worldwide. It starred Dimple Kapadia in a prominent role. Any other actor, as is my experience, would have gone to town trumpeting about working with the legendary Nolan. But not Kapadia.

I get a call from her at around 5:30 PM asking me, “Are you free to see Tenet? I was at the dubbing studio and they told me I could invite my guests.” The special screening of Tenet was to start at 6:30 PM. Of course, I couldn’t go for it, but as always, I was bowled over by her simplicity and casual lack of airs. For crying out loud, it was a Nolan film!

I quickly recalled past scenarios of other actors talking about their walk-on Hollywood forays for decades. But my lovely Dimpa! Far from the madding crowd, almost living in a parallel universe, she hasn’t given a single press interview or tom-tommed about it. By God, talent like this should be preserved. And nurtured and nourished.

She always followed her heart, paid a price, and bounced back in films like Krantiveer (1994), Dil Chahta Hai (2001), and Leela (2002). Those limpid pools of sadness in her cognac eyes were just what set the screen afire. Dimple didn’t speak from the heart; she spoke from the gut. That’s why she makes very few public appearances and gives even fewer interviews—she’s never quite sure what politically incorrect statements she might make.

She’s all things lovely, and we, her fanboys, only want to see her in one movie after another. She shouldn’t rest on her oars. Her sea of talent needs to go many more nautical miles. Dimple Kapadia, I love you. Happy birthday.

The few occasions I’ve met the actor, I’ve seen her vulnerable, sharp, and funny side. I first met her as a fanboy, much like it is for me with most actors of that vintage. She drops her guard at all times, and your instinct is to protect her rather than write down everything she says. She’s also fickle and changes her mind often. But some actors are allowed that. Because that’s what gives their craft its edge—her uncertainty gives a glow to her performance.

You have to savour her brokenness in Leela (2002), Lekin… (1991), Drishti (1990), and Kaash (1987). On screen, she will show you her wounds. In one egregious film of hers from the ’80s with Raaj Kumar and Shatrughan Sinha, where she plays a dacoit, you can see her let go so completely in a scene that the phlegm is running down her nose. You want raw, you get raw. Go on and judge me, but I’ve watched her in everything from Kali Ganga (1990) to Bees Saal Baad (1989).

So, “Dimpa, how did you like yourself in Tenet (2020)?” if I were to ask her. She might say, in her characteristically self-effacing tone, “Izzat rakh li…” or some such. I wish she would shrug off her reluctance and do more and more work. Reluctant actor, reluctant human being. My heart will go on.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIMPA, I LOVE YOU.

Love,

Jitesh Pillai

Also Read: Editor’s Take: A Journey Through Mani Ratnam’s Timeless Cinema