I repaid my debt to the city tonight, and I don't think I shall ever return to it.

31 December

On this last day of the year, Rosie brought me a whole bunch of letters written by some loser called Larry Page. He's been writing me five letters per week since October. What's even more intriguing is that he's American (or at least he claims to be).

The guy is completely off his rocker. He claims that I wrote to him posing as some Sapna Singh and even promised to marry him. Now why a top actress would fall for a goof like him boggles the mind. The poor sod professes his love for me with lines like 'I'd walk through hell in gasoline underwear for you.'

He also tries to give me life lessons. A sample: 'When life gives you lemons… make lemonade.' Another gem: 'Life is like a turd sandwich – the more bread you've got, the less shit you have to eat.'

But enough fun and merriment. Rosie is seriously 362 MOTIVES worried this guy might be a psycho and the next I know I may be running to the High Court to get a restraining order against Mr Larry 'Stalker' Page. So as of today, I've instructed Bahadur to carefully screen all visitors. Anyone looking even remotely like an American is to be denied entry and taken straight to the Andheri police station. I'll also tell Bhola to have a word with DCP Godbole, just in case the sicko has a police record.

Such is the price of fame!

7 January

Ram Dulari has proved to be a most adept pupil. She can now speak English with the glibness of a tour guide. She can wield a knife and fork at the dinner table with the finesse of a dowager. She can pirouette in six-inch pencil heels and eat chop suey with chopsticks.

I had hoped to complete the Cinderella Project in ten months. Ram Dulari has passed with flying colours in just five.

This calls for a celebration.

13 January

Disaster struck me today. As I was getting out of the bathtub after a leisurely bath, I slipped and badly twisted my ankle. Forget walking, now I can't even hobble.

Since this morning Ram Dulari has been applying balm to my swollen left foot and using hot compresses to bring down the swelling. Dr Gupte says it will take at least ten days to heal. Luckily the Guddu Dhanoa film to which I was committed from 10 January has been shelved for the time being, so no cancellations will be necessary. But I will be unable to attend the première of my latest film, Love in Canada, which takes place tomorrow at the IMAX theatre. The producer is Deepak Hirani, my godfather, for whom I have enormous respect, and it will be a huge blow to him to have his leading lady missing from the première line-up. Unfortunately an actress can never be seen in a plaster, otherwise I would have dragged myself to Wadala, come hell or high water.

I was about to call up Deepak Sir to apologize for having to cry off when Bhola stopped me. 'I have an idea, didi.'

'What?'

'Why don't we send Ram Dulari to the première?'

'How will that help?'

'I mean we send her in your place, as Shabnam Saxena.'

I gave Bhola the piercing-gaze treatment, the one I use to deal with producers who have a rather liberal interpretation of my no-nudity clause. 'Are you a raving lunatic? How can Ram Dulari become me?'

'Just think, didi. She looks just like you. Same height, same build, same skin tone. Once she puts on make-up and your clothes, I bet you no one will be able to tell the difference.'

'But everyone knows she is just a cook.'

'Who knows, didi? No one. Ram Dulari never steps out of the house. Even the watchman hasn't seen her.'

He had a point. We had indeed kept Ram Dulari hidden inside the house like a family secret.

'I tell you, didi, it is a perfect plan. Ram Dulari will attend the première, but everyone will think you are attending. The crew will be happy. Deepak Sir will be happy, no one will ever know.'

Bhola was persuasive, but I was not convinced. 'How can you be so sure?'

'Because I will go with Ram Dulari, didi, be with her throughout. She doesn't have to do much. We'll enter through the rear gate to avoid the fans. She will climb up to the stage to light the lamp and pose with the cast for some photo-ops. Then after watching the film we'll leave again through the rear exit.'

'Supposing someone asks her something?'

'Ram Dulari will not open her mouth. I will spread the word that you have a sore throat. I tell you, didi, it's foolproof.'

I still had my doubts. 'But what if it is not? What if she gets caught? What if Salman or Akshay finds out that she is just a lookalike?'

'Then we will pretend it was all a stunt. The movie will get even more publicity. Deepak Sir will certainly not complain.'

It was lunacy, but I was getting caught up in it.

'OK,' I exhaled. 'I'm in. But there is one condition.'

'What?'

'I need to watch the whole thing on video.'

'Done. I'll get you the tape.'

14 January

She was perfect. I couldn't have done it any better. She smiled when she was required to smile, lighted the lamp with just the right touch of reverence, stood stock still for the photographs, didn't flinch from the flashbulbs popping in her face, shook hands with the demureness of a princess and handled the presence of Bollywood stars around her with the sang-froid of a fellow celebrity.

It is a blessing that Ram Dulari has not seen any Hindi films. Any other girl would have started swooning on being within kissing distance of Salman and Akshay. But she wasn't overawed by them. She is herself a star. Created by the Cinderella Project.

Azim Bhai, the stunt director of the movie, was also at the première. I felt like calling him up and telling him that I had pulled off the greatest stunt of them all, and even the cameraman had not been able to spot it!

16 January

Bhola has become a tiger that has tasted blood. He came to me today with another outrageous proposition. B. R. Virmani, the textile magnate, has asked me to become brand ambassador for a new line of jeans being launched by his company. He has offered to pay me five hundred thousand rupees for a five-minute appearance at the opening of a new Liquid Jeans boutique on Friday, just two days from now.

'Virmani's PR man is Rakesh Dattani. I know him very well. He has confided in me that if you don't agree they will offer the deal to Priyanka, your biggest competitor. Now we wouldn't want that, would we?' Bhola said.

'But I can't go. My leg is in plaster.'

'Wrong, didi. You can go.' He winked and pointed at Ram Dulari.

'This is madness. How the hell do you think Ram Dulari can handle all those fans that will be thronging the store?'

'Simple. We tell Virmani to keep tight security and not to allow any fans to come near her.'

'But doesn't she have to say something when she cuts the ribbon?'

'Yes. Just three lines. Ram Dulari?' He gestured to her.

'So good to be here. I love Liquid Jeans. So will you,' Ram Dulari intoned. Though she stood stiffly like a mannequin, her delivery wasn't bad.

'So this is all a set-up. You two have been conspiring

behind my back,' I complained. 'No, didi, please don't blame Ram Dulari. I coached her,' Bhola said contritely. 'I made her believe these were your instructions. But if you don't want her to go, she will not go. Your trust is worth much more to us than five lakh rupees.'

I relented. 'Go, we can use this money for Ram Dulari's wedding. But don't forget my videotape.'

18 January

I saw the tape this evening. Ram Dulari was again superb. There were at least three hundred people in that store, mostly college students. She soaked up the adulation, the cheering and the clapping like a circus ringmaster and sashayed up to the podium in her jeans like a catwalk model. I detected a hint of uncertainty when she was asked to speak, a slight quivering, but she didn't stumble. And her voice sounded remarkably like mine. She cut the ribbon like a professional politician and the entire hall burst into deafening applause.