Failing updwards: A Case Study of Ibrahim Ali Khan: A Follow-up Feature

In the wildly incestuous ecosystem of Bollywood, where lineage often outweighs early missteps, Ibrahim Ali Khan stands as a compelling case study in... failing upwards. 

Born in 2001 to actor/royal Saif Ali Khan and actress Amrita Singh, the young actor carries the weight - and the privileges- of royal Pataudi heritage mixed with cinematic royalty. With chiseled features, contrived charm, and a “modern prince” aura, he has secured magazine covers, brand visibility, and red-carpet invites that many long working actors with solid filmographies can only envy and  fail to replicate as the gatekeepers (visible and invisible)  keep ordinary (looking!) newcomers at bay. The plethora of magazine covers and media coverage and popularity on social media reeks of success... Khan's on-screen track record so far tells a different story, not of glory but of failures: two back-to-back OTT releases in 2025 met with poor to God-awful reviews, limited commercial impact, and public scrutiny over his acting range and a notable lisp--no shade-- that's screwing up dialogue delivery in comical ways, Khan's on the verge of going the Deepak 'Palo' Malhtora [Lamhe's ignoble faultline] way. But for his Khan-daan... he's got a palatial roof over his head.  

Ibrahim’s formal entry came with Nadaaniyan (March 2025, Netflix), a light romantic drama opposite illustrious Sridevi's progeny, Khushi Kapoor. Directed by Shauna Gautam under Karan Johar’s banner, the film arrived amid heavy pre-release buzz fueled by star-kid curiosity. Critics and audiences were largely unimpressed, which is putting it mildly: dialogue delivery felt stiff, emotional depth and resonance seemed shallow, and the overall product labeled frivolous, one of Netflix India’s weaker, if not weakest, offerings in years. Sure there are worse reality TV shows in the offing, but they are not aspiring to reach a high-bar.  

Ibrahim himself later described it candidly as “a really bad film,” admitting he had stepped into the industry thinking “ho jaayega” (it’ll happen). He acknowledged not taking the craft for granted and learning from the setback, according to an interview he did with Times of India. If the writing was on the wall, he clearly read it. Perhaps no long living in the ivory tower, he came tumbling down the marble staircase.  

Then, just months later, in July 2025, came Sarzameen, an action-thriller directed by Kayoze Irani [Boman Irani's son... sigh] for Dharma Productions and Star Studios, co-starring heavyweights Kajol and Prithviraj Sukumaran. Sidenote, two other "nepo babies" who found footing based on talent and years, and years of hard work. 

Ibrahim played the son in a patriotic family drama. While some noted marginal improvement and called it a step up from his debut, reviews remained middling at best -- praised sporadically for screen presence but criticized for below-average performance and lack of impact. Yet again. The film failed to generate sustained buzz or strong numbers, adding to the “flop” narrative despite its stalwart star support. 

Yet here lies the fascination of Ibrahim’s trajectory. In an industry that can be brutally meritocratic for outsiders but forgiving for insiders who get repeated opportunities, he has not been sidelined. Instead, the discourse around him thrives on potential rather than proven results. His visual appeal -- often described as chocolate-boy meets regal sophistication -- has translated into an enviable presence on glossy pages and newsstands. He has graced covers and features for Esquire India, Filmfare, GQ India, and several other still existing print magazine and digital covers, frequently highlighted for his style, poise, and the effortless “Pataudi prince” vibe. Its a phrase that comes up often.  

Sifting through dozens of recent magazine covers, having covered media for long, a thought percolates - do you know how long it took before Ranveer Singh could get a solo cover?! How long it took Anushak's team to fight to get a Cine Blitz solo cover?! Earned magazine real estate versus inherited access, its a tiresome debate that bears repeating; Bollywood doesn't seem to learn its lessons. 

Fashion shoots, ramp walks, and lifestyle spreads have kept him in the public eye far more prominently than his modest film output might suggest. 

Awards recognition has followed a similar glamour-heavy pattern. In 2025, he picked up wins and appearances at events such as the Filmfare Glamour and Style Awards and ELLE Beauty Awards, categories that celebrate aesthetics, fashion influence, and emerging star power rather than acting prowess--had it been the 90s or early oughts, he would have won Best Newcomer awards and Best Supporting nominations; Fardeen Khan won best debut! Twinkle Khanna won some pointless trophy too-- presented predictably by her father Rajesh Khanna no less. 

No major performance trophies for his lead roles have materialized yet-- a reminder that critical acclaim has lagged behind the hype, that even the most sycophantic of magazine editors and publishers, could now kowtow to sponsors and TRP by awarding popular but talentless star kids. 

Commercially, the numbers paint a picture of inherited advantage meeting calculated visibility. Estimates place his net worth in the ₹20–25 crore range (roughly $2.4–3 million USD), built on family backing, pre-debut endorsements, and the premium Bollywood places on star progeny. 

Brand deals lean into his youthful, premium-lifestyle image: fashion campaigns, lifestyle collaborations, and youth-oriented promotions that capitalize on his looks and social currency. While specific high-value contracts remain discreet, his positioning allows him to command fees that newcomers without pedigree rarely see--even before delivering a hit. Far be it from us to deny a man his right to work, but the rates and remuneration offered to the "nepo babe" is a different tax bracket from those auditioning today. 

On social media, Ibrahim (@iak on Instagram) maintains around 1.5 million followers [as we go to publish]. His feed mixes sleek fashion editorials, film promotions, and personal glimpses, drawing engagement rooted in curiosity and aspirational appeal. Comments sections often blend admiration for his style with pointed critiques of his performances, reflecting the polarized conversation surrounding him. Here's the fun part of social media algorhythm; if you comment with admiration or troll, either way, he benefits as engagement (positive or negative), helps him out. In that happy marriage of narcissism and voyeurism, he benefits greatly. 

This disconnect, modest screen success paired with sustained industry and media interest, exemplifies “failing upwards” in contemporary Bollywood. Nepotism debates flare regularly, yet the system continues to invest in certain bloodlines, betting that exposure, grooming, and the right project will eventually click. Ibrahim has shown self-awareness in interviews, requesting “one more chance” from audiences and expressing confidence that he knows how to act when given proper material and direction. He has spoken of sitting with scripts more carefully this time and trusting experienced hands to showcase him better. 

That next opportunity arrives with Diler, his anticipated theatrical debut. Produced by Dinesh Vijan’s Maddock Films and directed by Kunal Deshmukh (Jannat), the sports drama revolves around a marathon runner theme and co-stars South Indian actress Sreeleela. Shooting has progressed, including schedules in London, with behind-the-scenes glimpses signaling a more focused effort. Expected around mid-2026, Diler represents a make-or-break moment: a big-screen canvas, a genre with emotional and physical scope, and a director known for launching or reviving careers. Ibrahim has voiced a “good feeling” about the project, suggesting he sat on the script and believes the team can present him effectively. 

He has also teased interest in working with veteran Gajraj Rao, hinting at a desire to diversify and learn alongside seasoned talent.

Ultimately, Ibrahim Ali Khan’s story is less about immediate triumph and more about the machinery of fame in a star-driven industry. Critics question whether charm and lineage can compensate for acting depth; supporters point to his youth, willingness to reflect on failures, and the long runway star kids often receive. Khan attacking a critic on Social Media DMs got him even worse press than his reviews, a mea culpa on that has yet to materialise. Reminds us of young, fiery Saif Ali Khan who also attacked journalists in the early 90s when he felt criticism was getting personal, not professional (to a certain degree we agree with that, criticise his work, not his family!). 

Instant judgment via social media and streaming metrics, young Khan has to navigate a delicate balance: not absorbing trolling while leveraging visibility to stay relevant. Whether Diler delivers the breakthrough or becomes another chapter in the same narrative, one thing remains clear- Ibrahim is not disappearing from the conversation. For now. 

Bollywood has long specialized in second (and third) acts for its favoured sons. The question is whether this particular prince can convert royal privilege into on-screen reign. For now, he remains a magnetic paradox: consistently reviewed yet continually covered, critiqued yet courted, still climbing even as the early steps falter. After every fall, he's chosen to get up on the horse - yes, thatis  Polo sport reference - and despite two penalties, he's hoping to score a goal. 

Cover shoot for Galaxy magazine: Wilson with Amanda G: Favourite models

My last cover shoot with Galaxy Magazine. 

With favourite models Amanda G (about to pop a baby any day now!) and Wilson. 

These cover shoots on location were... exhausting. But we got 'em done thanks to a great team. 

Designer Profile: Hong Kong's own Susanna Soo of S.Nine Celebrates 15 Years

As the brand S.Nine celebrates its 15th anniversary, a chat with founder and designer Susanna Soo as she reflects on the elements that brought her vision to life. In conversation with P.Ramakrishnan.


Hong Kong-based designer Susanna Soo, a Parsons School of Design alumna with formative stints at Diane von Furstenberg’s New York sample rooms and Anne Valerie Hash’s Parisian atelier, launched S.Nine in 2009 - mere months before her own wedding. The label, now celebrating over fifteen years, has become a popular chapter in the mighty tome of Asian womenswear: a poetic fusion of New York polish and French couture refinement. Beloved for versatile ready-to-wear that moves seamlessly from day to night, S.Nine fuses classic foundations with romance, practicality, and an intuitive sensuality. Susanna’s garments celebrate the female form while honoring real life draped, tailored, and quietly empowering for the modern woman who values both presence and ease.
She speaks of clothes as if they were extensions of breath, something felt before named. “Even as a child I had a sensitivity to what ‘feels right’ on me,” she recalls. “I picked my own clothes very early on.” Watching her mother command airports and boardrooms in power suits revealed fashion’s alchemical power: “It was amazing how an outfit could elevate one’s energy.” By her mid-twenties, the path had clarified itself. Fashion was not chosen so much as recognised, something that aligned with her creative energy so completely that deviation felt impossible.
Everything was a challenge at the beginning. “But there was so much excitement in seeing a collection come to life and learning every little thing about the fashion business along the way.” The steepest early terrain was finding the right audience: tradeshows, persistent collaborations, the patient work of translation between private vision and public desire. Yet the memory that lingers is tactile - the bolts of sample fabric, the slow birth of silhouette in the garment district.
Her hands had already been trained in the right places. At DVF she bypassed the glossy Meatpacking showroom for the raw pulse of production: fabric and trim sourcing, pattern making, sample sewing. “That was precisely what I love about fashion: the unglamorous inner workings,” she says. “The sample fabric galore had me bedazzled and inspired. The obsessive pursuit of beauty, and a group of people with relentless grit to get there, to bring the show to life, is the most poetic thing in the fashion industry.”
Paris deepened the register. After winning the Arts of Fashion competition, her time at Anne Valerie Hash exposed her to the delicate navigation between ready-to-wear and couture. “The combination of NYC glamour and grit with female empowerment, mixed with Parisian effortless allure and couture refinement, were the elements that shaped my design journey.” Those dual influences still pulse through S.Nine: structured yet fluid, confident yet understated.

Her core philosophy remains anchored yet alive. “I believe in building on classic foundations, mixed with an authentic, intuitive touch.” The S.Nine woman embodies inner strength, kindness, justice, sensuality, and creative spirit. “Sometimes a piece starts with the touch of a new fabric; I love draping and seeing how it falls on the body. I want to showcase as much of the beauty of the female body as possible.”
Inspiration arrives on its own schedule. It might whisper through Scarlett O’Hara’s resilient fire in Gone with the Wind, or the luminous emergence in Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. “It is a vibe that keeps whispering to me in a particular moment while I am sketching, and it all happens when it decides to happen.” The original muse, however, remains closest to home. “My original muse is really my mom. I think, as with all creative pursuits, it is always based on love.” Strong, kind, just, sensual, creative - the description circles back like a perfectly draped slip dress.

That personal foundation has sustained her through the industry’s louder demands. “Fashion is a big business, and because it is so visible in our culture and so commercialised, people hold certain expectations and labels about those inside the industry,” she observes. Chasing the media’s version of success, she warns, leads to burnout and hollow victories. “If you chase what you think you want based on what the media shows, you will most likely end up disappointed, burned out, and losing more than you gain in the process.”
Instead, she draws strength from quieter sources: a steadfast support system, spiritual practice, and the art of attentive living. “My mom and my husband have always given me shelter when I needed rest,” she shares. “Bringing inspiration into life, connecting with others through my own offering, finding my own way to do this in the different seasons of my life: that is the art of living.” The deepest reward remains profoundly human. “The most rewarding part is how much I have learned about myself along the way, and how many amazing human beings I have connected with through this journey.”
Bridal work has offered some of the most intimate of those connections. “To be part of the most important ceremony in their life is such a great honour,” she says. It demands trust and openness. One Covid-era gown tested the entire studio: less than a month from first fitting to final, with the bride preparing to relocate. “That was a real test for my team and me to make sure every step was precisely executed.” The memory carries respect rather than complaint, for the precision such moments require and the trust they inspire.
Looking ahead, S.Nine’s evolution feels like an unfolding. She aims to share the brand’s creative spirit with a wider audience while preserving its essential intimacy. More travel, expanded trunk shows in cities like Tokyo and Singapore, and “more fun, meaningful collaborations and projects are always welcome.” The focus stays on inspiration and connection rather than unchecked scale. “I would like to continue bringing new inspiration and creative spirit through S.Nine, sharing it with a wider audience, and travelling more to connect with different people.”
Legacy as a grand concept does not preoccupy her. “I don’t think about legacy,” she says plainly. She hopes the clothes have delivered something more immediate and enduring: joy, beautiful memories with loved ones, a lift to the spirit. Perhaps, too, that they offer quiet permission. “It also encourages young people to find their own path in their creative pursuit, to believe in themselves and not blindly follow someone else’s idea of success.”
In an era that often mistakes volume for relevance, S.Nine moves with deliberate quiet. The garments honor the body’s native elegance rather than shouting over it. They understand that true power in dressing frequently resides in what is felt rather than announced, fabric falling just so, confidence rising in response. A woman moves through her day, or through the most pivotal day of her life, carrying both armor and ease.
Susanna Soo’s own trajectory embodies the philosophy. From childhood sensitivity to maternal example, from garment-district rigor to Parisian refinement, from personal milestone to professional devotion, each chapter has informed the next without forced symmetry. The result is a brand that feels less like a declaration and more like an extended conversation between maker and material, woman and garment, private intuition and shared experience.
She returns often to the idea of energy: clothes that elevate it, moments that honor it, a life aligned with it. In her hands, fashion becomes less an industry category than a form of attentive presence paying close attention to how fabric meets skin, how silhouette meets spirit, how a well-chosen garment can quietly recalibrate the day. The pursuit remains obsessive, the grit remains real, yet the ultimate measure stays intimate: Does it feel right? On the body, in the moment, across the seasons of a life.
That question, asked early and answered daily, continues to guide S.Nine forward one precisely draped, intuitively tuned piece at a time.

Images courtesy of Susanna Soo. 

Catalogue shoot with Samantha Sin: Behind the scenes of a brand photoshoot

Behind the scenes of a shoot for a brand. 

Location courtesy of a lovely friend - her triplex apartment in Mid Levels, with the highest ceilings I've seen in a looooong time, provided ample light. The images turned out great - thanks to Samantha Sin. MUA by Karen Yiu, Model Lenka.

The final images came out great. Team work... makes the dream work! 

 

Samsen: Hong Kong’s Unassailable Thai Restaurant doesn't have customers as much as it has Devotees

It isn't fine dining, but Samsen sure is great. Deputy Editor P.Ramakrishnan was only too happy to hit this popular eatery once again, having done his R&D for this feature for years.

Without exaggeration or hyperbola, over the past three and a half years, I've had a meal at Samsen, a whopping 546 times. And I have the receipts to prove it! Literally. It's on my app. 

It is the consistency; not of the broth that swims in the boat noodle soup, but the quality of food and service at Samsen that has me returning to its alter like the faithful devottee I am.  In a city that devours trends and quickly lets it fade (this year its Dubai pistachio, remember when it was salted caramel before that? Rainbow cupcakes prior? No? Well, proves my point),  Samsen is the only franchise I'm happy has three hotspots dotted on the island. Not because it chases acclaim or reinvents the wheel, but because it simply gets Thai street food right; uncomplicated, consistent, and perfect every single time. Whether at the original hole-in-the-wall on Stone Nullah Lane in Wan Chai, the Sheung Wan outpost on Jervois Street, or the newer Central branch, this is the eatery that reminds you why queues form and why Hong Kongers will brave subtropical steam for a bowl of noodles.

Walk past the rattan blinds and distressed wood into a space that feels lifted from a Bangkok shophouse: bare concrete, vintage graphics, open kitchens humming with mostly Asian cooks braving the steam (their enviable pores!) and spices. No tablecloths, no pretense. Just wooden chairs that creak under the weight of anticipation and tables turned over with efficient urgency. The menu celebrates Bangkok-style noodles and street classics with bold, layered flavors of sweet, sour, salty, spicy executed with the precision of someone who clearly respects the source material. Chef Adam Cliff’s pedigree (ex-Chachawan, trained under Thai-cuisine masters) shows, yet the soul belongs to the streets.

Order the signature boat noodles and understand the obsession. Dark, rich broth simmered for hours, packed with herbs, spices, and that elusive depth you chase across border towns. Slurpable rice noodles, tender beef or pork, a hit of chili, pickled mustard greens, and those crispy bits for texture. It arrives piping hot, fragrant, restorative. Pair it with som tum-green papaya salad pounded to order, bright with lime and fish sauce- or the personal favourite, chick flat noodle, with green vegetables, baby corn, where sweetness meets crunch and heat in perfect equilibrium. Curries, stir-fries, grilled skewers (including Wagyu options at the expanded spots), fresh roti: everything lands with the same straightforward excellence. Portions satisfy without excess. Prices remain reasonable - dishes hover in the HK$100–200 range - making it accessible rather than aspirational. Which is perhaps why the glossy publications do not feature this fine eatery with the frequency or urgency it deserves. But fun fact, its not only surviving without the media hand job, it's thriving in spite of it. 

What elevates Samsen beyond mere competence is its reliability. In a dining scene prone to inconsistency, every single one of my 546 visits has delivered. The food is served fast because the kitchen moves with purpose: satisfy the maximum number of hungry souls in the shortest time. This isn’t arrogance; it’s respect for the customer and the serpentine queue snaking outside. You wait - often 30 to 45 minutes in Hong Kong’s notorious heat and humidity - perched on the pavement or shifting impatiently. The dear ladies at front desk potter by with silver tumblers with coconut water (again, on brand!), but really, guests aren't here for polite impasse, but hardwood seat. You squeeze onto those hard chairs, sweat still beading, and the first spoonful makes every inconvenience evaporate. 

Locals and expats alike endure it because the payoff is genuine. No PR firm floods inboxes with seasonal plugs. No influencer carousel required. The proof is empirical: those lines that tumble across the street, day after day, night after night. 

Michelin grants it a Bib Gourmand - an honorable mention for value and quality - which it has held for years. Fair enough for what it is. But the broader guide’s framework reveals its limits. Street-food excellence, the beating heart of Asian cuisines, rarely fits neatly into star-chasing rituals built on Eurocentric tasting menus, hushed dining rooms, and sommelier choreography. A panel steeped in those normative standards cannot fully arbitrate the chaotic genius of a Bangkok noodle stall translated to Hong Kong’s alleys. We don’t need their full blessing. Samsen earns its stripes on the street, where it matters: repeat customers, word-of-mouth, and that impatient line of believers.

This is dining democracy at its finest. No reservations for most tables, no stuffiness, just honest Thai cooking that transports without passport stamps and visa tribunals (I have an Indian passport - traveling is never easy). 

Central’s branch offers cocktails and a bit more space than it original Wan Chai iteration (as I call it, the mothership), yet retains the core energy. Sheung Wan feels generous and vibrant. Wan Chai remains the scrappy original, closest to the source. All deliver the same promise: come hungry, leave happy, plan to return soon. 

Samsen’s refusal to complicate itself is its superpower. It doesn’t chase trends; it perfects a tradition. That is why it is, quite simply, the best eatery in town. No asterisk, no caveat. Just exceptional Thai food, served hot, every time. Go. Wait. Eat. Repeat. You’ll understand. Or as they say back home, You get my meaning?

Halfway Coffee House Sheung Wan: Instagram-Worthy Cafe with Damn Good Coffee

Step into this artistic, vintage-style coffee haven in Sheung Wan for specialty brews, young enthusiastic vibes, and dog-friendly outdoor seating.

Halfway Coffee House in Sheung Wan stands out as one of Hong Kong’s most photogenic, telegenic and Instagram-worthy coffee spots. Tucked along Upper Lascar Row (Cat Street) at 26 Upper Lascar Row—or nearby on Tung Street, this artistic gem blends vintage Hong Kong nostalgia with modern café culture, drawing a steady stream of locals, creatives, and visitors. For three and a half years, this hot cup station took a portion of my annual income. Closer to deadline about half of it, so I know it only too damn well how good the place is. So here's my 2 cents (the coffee is much more expensive) on the place. 

The space feels like a living museum. Owner Tommy Chui has curated an eclectic collection of mismatched furniture, distressed walls, dangling plants, and—most iconically—vintage Chinese porcelain cups and saucers from the 1950s to 1990s. This is key. This is why perhaps more people take pictures here than a full cuppa joe - except they are worse for wear for it. The cups often feature delicate floral patterns, rice-grain textures, or playful designs sourced from markets in Mong Kok and Sham Shui Po. Even takeaway cups mimic the porcelain aesthetic - it always pains me to throwaway the takeaway  cups. Paired with the surrounding antique stalls, it creates a perfectly curated, photogenic backdrop that screams “East meets West” and “past meets present” }  two expressions I've heard so often, I want to scream - but, befitting here, so I'm forced to lean in on the tired phrases. How about its very lantern meets neon? Yin meets Yang? Zippity meets doodah? Either way. 

Guests frequently snap flat lays of their drinks against the charming, lived-in interior. Its super annoying when you're waiting to get a table to watch others do it, only made worse when you find yourself doing the same. 

It has become a beloved neighborhood hangout precisely because of this artistic soul. The small, cozy indoor area has a distinct vibe, a relaxed, community-oriented air—think quiet mornings with laptop users or friends chatting over brunch. You tolerate the working nomads who sit for hours over a single cup, the space suddenly gives you empathy and forgiveness as you know freelancing is a bitch and no  quasi-employer one pays on time. Young, enthusiastic staff add warmth; they’re knowledgeable, friendly, and quick to recommend drinks or share oft-repeated stories behind the crockery. It’s the kind of place where you linger, soaking in the calm amid Sheung Wan’s hilly streets and tourist-trap vendors that litter that particular lane. Obese Americans, shorts-and-sandals Aussies and tired teens watching the grown-ups haggle over a porcelain dragon or wooden chopsticks set. Bruce Lee posters and vintage photos of Hong Kong and scrolls of questionable vintage? All along that safe caffeinated lane. 

The coffee itself is damn good. Halfway serves specialty brews with beans often from Indonesia, Ethiopia, Colombia, and Brazil, delivering rich, balanced profiles. Classics like flat whites, Americanos, macchiatos, and lattes shine, with silky milk texture and precise pours. Standouts include creative options like Honey Longan Latte or Rose Latte, where floral or fruity notes complement the espresso without overpowering it. Food pairings—sourdough with scrambled eggs and avocado, or simple tarts—keep things satisfying without stealing focus from the main event.

Dog lovers rejoice: Halfway is pet-friendly, but pups must sit outside. Outdoor stools and chairs along the alley let furry friends join the fun, often sparking interactions with passersby and other dogs. It’s a welcoming touch that enhances the laid-back neighborhood feel.

Open daily from around 8am to 6pm, Halfway Coffee has that perfect shot, lets you grab a genuine moment of pause, it delivers every time. Trust me, before I moved office, I was a regular. There are cheaper coffee spots next door - in fact, the arteries of Sheung Wan are studded by cafes, but this one gets my vote. And note.

Words and images: P.Ramakrishnan