Sid had expected a conversation.
What he got instead was a high-pressure sales pitch.
Karan lounged back in his chair, his ankle casually draped over his knee, sizing up Sid as if he were presenting a startup to a room full of venture capitalists.
Height, facial symmetry, camera presence, modeling experience, unwavering discipline, and broad appeal—especially among women and younger crowds.
Even his outsider status was crafted into a captivating story: the self-made Delhi boy without a cinematic godfather, discovered, polished, and primed for stardom.
Sitting next to Reshma Shetty, Sid found himself listening to a detailed analysis of his market potential.
It was a strange and disorienting experience.
“He photographs exceptionally well,” Karan remarked, waving his hand dismissively.
Reshma shot Sid a quick, appraising look.
“I can see that.”
“His camera tests are even stronger.”
“And how does he handle a mic?”
Karan’s expression shifted to one of mild annoyance.
“He needs some calibration and a bit of voice modulation.”
Sid raised an eyebrow, but Karan completely ignored him.
“He tends to get quiet,” Karan continued.
“Too introspective.”
“Silence isn’t necessarily a flaw in an actor,” Reshma replied coolly.
“It is when a journalist throws a nuanced question his way and he responds with an eight-word answer.
That’s terrible for PR.”
“At least let me go through an interview first, then we can talk,” Sid interjected softly.
Karan turned to him, unfazed.
“Stay quiet; you’ll have your chance in October.”
A faint smile flickered on Reshma’s lips.
Sid began to grasp the dynamics at play.
Karan wasn’t just making introductions; he was aggressively marketing him.
He was persuading a top-tier talent manager that Sidharth Malhotra was an asset worth her firm’s time and investment.
The realization felt a bit uncomfortable, but Sid managed to keep his expression completely neutral.
This was how the industry stacked up: Karan Johar was the kingmaker of producers; Reshma Shetty was the powerhouse manager with a roster of elite clients; and Sid was just an actor waiting for his big break, with no leverage to speak of.
Any future Bunty envisioned was just a hypothetical timeline that hadn’t come to pass.
In this room, he felt like the lowest rung on the ladder.
So, he kept quiet and soaked in every word.
“He can project a very clean, disciplined image,” Karan said, continuing his pitch.
“Clean can easily come off as bland if it’s not handled right,” Reshma interjected.
“Not if we frame the brand properly.”
Brand.
Sid remembered a comment he’d stumbled upon years ago in a forum: Bollywood isn’t just about making films; it’s really about managing brands.
Back then, as Bunty, he had simply liked the post and moved on.
But now, sitting across from the top star manager in the industry, the truth of that statement hit him hard.
An actor could have a string of box office flops and still wield significant influence and wealth through endorsements, fashion campaigns, high-profile appearances, equity deals, and constant media presence.
Sometimes, a well-crafted public image could outlast the fading box office numbers.
In the world of mainstream cinema, pure acting talent was just one part of a vast commercial machine—and often not the most profitable part.
What kind of persona did the public see in you?
The romantic hero?
The action star?
The relatable everyman?
The mysterious bad boy?
A personal brand could easily overshadow the individual.
Sid suddenly understood why top-notch representation was essential: managers didn’t just seek out scripts; they crafted the public persona that the market craved.
And if that persona had enough value, financial success would follow, no matter how a single film performed.
The realization made him a bit uneasy, prompting him to focus even more intently on every detail of the conversation.
Reshma focused intently on him.
“Siddharth.”
Siddharth straightened up a bit, adjusting his posture.
“Yes?”
“I want to hear your thoughts.”
“About what?”
“Your long-term goals,” Reshma replied, neatly folding her hands over her notepad.
“What do you really want from this?”
To Sid, the answer was clear-cut.
He spoke before he could second-guess himself.
“I want to build a career like Amitabh Bachchan.”
The room fell silent.
Reshma raised her eyebrows slightly.
Karan turned his head slowly to look at him, his expression hard to read.
For a brief moment, Sid wondered if he had gone too far.
Then Karan broke into a warm, proud smile.
“That’s quite ambitious.”
Sid shrugged lightly.
“She asked.”
Reshma studied him for a long moment, her silence heavy.
“Amitabh Bachchan.”
“Yes.”
“Why him in particular?”
Because in Bunty’s vision of the future, Amitabh Bachchan had weathered every storm: from blockbusters to box-office flops, financial crises, reinventions, shifts to television, character changes, and generational shifts.
Decades had gone by, yet he remained a towering figure.
Trying to explain all that would sound a bit crazy and overly rehearsed, so Sid boiled it down to the essence.
“Because I’m not looking for a five-year stint,” Sid said, his voice steady.
“I don’t want a huge breakout hit just to disappear a few years later.
I want a body of work that keeps me relevant when I’m fifty, sixty, or seventy.” He paused, softening his tone a bit.
“I want people to remember the films.”
Not just the endorsement deals or the red-carpet moments.
The actual cinema.
Sid briefly recalled Bunty sitting in his room in 2026, struggling to name Sidharth Malhotra’s truly memorable films on one hand.
Three.
That thought stung more now than it had back then.
Reshma tapped her finger against the armrest, her gaze locked on him.
“And how do you plan to achieve that kind of longevity?”
Sid locked eyes with her.
“By becoming exceptionally good at the trade.”
Reshma let out a short, genuine laugh, and Karan joined in with a chuckle.
Sid kept a subtle smile on his face.
“Did I say something funny?”
“Not at all,” Reshma replied, straightening up a bit.
“I admire your confidence.
You remind me of a young Salman.”
Sid blinked, taken aback by the comparison.
“Salman Khan?”
“The early years,” she clarified.
“With those boyish looks and a quiet self-assurance.
He walked into every room like he expected it to change for him.
You have that same vibe.”
Sid felt a mix of emotions about the comparison, especially considering how Salman’s life and career turned out, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
Karan clapped his hands once, breaking the moment.
“So, what’s the verdict?”
Reshma turned to him.
“About what?”
“You’ve let me pitch him for twenty minutes, Reshma.”
“Because you’re a good salesman, Karan.”
“Because he’s an asset worth representing.”
Sid stayed silent, brushing off the commercial angle.
Reshma turned back to Sid.
“Matrix will take you on.”
For a split second, Sid held his breath.
Karan beamed.
“Fantastic.”
Sid looked at Reshma for confirmation.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” she said, reaching her hand across the table.
“We’ll bring you into the agency under our new talent division.”
Sid shook her hand firmly.
“Thank you.
I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” she replied smoothly.
Karan chuckled.
“A very warm welcome, as always.”
Reshma ignored the humor, her focus solely on Sid.
“There’s a lot of work ahead.
Are you ready for it?”
“I am.”
“Are you sure?” Her tone was practical, demanding clarity without being aggressive.
Sid respected that much more than empty compliments.
Karan leaned in to answer.
“He’s been putting in the effort.
Physical conditioning, choreography, diction—he’s covering all his bases.”
“Media training?” Reshma pressed.
“He needs some work, but we’ve got time for that,” Karan admitted without hesitation.
Sid shot Karan a dry look, which Karan met with a playful grin.
“Fitness is clearly sorted,” Reshma remarked, jotting down a quick note on her pad.
“Great.
Now, let’s tackle this step by step.”
The word step by step felt significant.
Suddenly, the abstract future was taking on a clear, structured form.
Reshma glanced up from her notes.
“Have you thought about what you want to do after Student of the Year comes out?”
Before Sid could answer, Karan smoothly chimed in.
“He doesn’t need to worry about post-debut plans just yet.
Once the film is out, the scripts will start rolling in.
If the trailer does well, all three of them will be inundated with offers.
Right now, it’s all about patience.”
Sid got the conventional wisdom: wait for Student of the Year to premiere, see how the audience reacts, ride the wave of publicity, and then choose from whatever comes his way.
That was the safe, tried-and-true route—the exact journey the original Sidharth Malhotra had taken.
And Bunty knew exactly where that route eventually led.
Sid cleared his throat lightly.
“I actually stumbled upon something interesting recently.”
Karan turned to him, intrigued.
“Oh?
What’s that?”
“T-Series,” Sid said cautiously.
“I’ve heard rumors that they’re considering a follow-up to Aashiqui.”
Reshma’s eyes flicked back to him, now filled with curiosity.
Sid carefully crafted his story.
“I heard from a few modeling contacts that the Kumar family is quietly looking to bring the film back to life.”
It was a complete fabrication—he knew about the project because of his memories from sixteen years in the future, not from any modeling gossip.
But in an industry driven by insider knowledge, a vague “industry contact” was the perfect cover.
Karan frowned a bit, mulling it over.
“A sequel to Aashiqui?”
“More like a spiritual successor, from what I hear.”
Reshma leaned back, eyeing him with keen interest.
“And where did you catch wind of this?”
“Just some buzz going around the circuit,” Sid replied nonchalantly.
“Is there any truth to it?”
Reshma paused for a moment before responding.
“There are some early discussions happening, but it’s all hush-hush.”
Sid felt a rush of excitement.
The project was already in motion behind the scenes.
“So it’s legit,” Sid said.
“It’s in the early stages,” Reshma clarified.
“Nothing’s been officially approved or cast yet.”
Karan glanced between them, intrigued.
“What’s got you so interested in a mid-budget romance, Sid?”
Sid maintained a calm demeanor.
“If this project is moving ahead, I want to audition for it.”
Karan raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Aashiqui?”
“Why not?”
Reshma hesitated for a moment.
Sid could almost see the gears turning in her mind—imagining him as a brooding, emotionally charged romantic lead.
Karan was clearly doing the same calculations.
A slow grin spread across Karan’s face.
“Look at you, already plotting your next move.”
Sid shrugged it off.
“I thought planning ahead was part of the job.”
Karan reached over and gave Sid’s shoulder a friendly pat.
“Look at how practical we’re being.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sid asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Just yesterday you were wiped out from exhaustion; today you’re mapping out your second feature film.”
“I had a mild fever.”
“Sure you did.” Karan chuckled, then turned back to Reshma.
“Can we check on the project’s status?”
“I can make a few discreet inquiries with Bhushan’s office,” Reshma said.
Sid relaxed his shoulders a bit.
“I’d really appreciate that.”
Karan pointed a firm finger at Sid.
“If they’re actively casting, I can get you an initial meeting.
But that’s where my help stops.
I can get you in the door, Sidharth; I can’t do the reading for you.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Sid said, his sincerity shining through.
He truly meant it.
The last thing he wanted was to have the role handed to him just because of Karan’s influence.
Relying solely on Karan’s clout could lead to long-term issues—resentment from the industry, an unhealthy dependence on others, and nagging doubts about his own skills.
He needed to show himself that he could land a significant project based on his own merit.
“I just need a way in,” Sid added.
“That much I can handle,” Karan replied.
Reshma jotted something down on her notepad.
“I’ll check on the script status and get your agency representation agreement ready.”
Sid turned to her.
“What’s the timeline for the contract?”
“Give my office two days.”
“And once it’s here—”
“You read it,” Reshma interjected firmly.
“Every single clause.”
Sid offered a slight smile.
“That was already my plan.”
“No, most young actors just skim the signature page and sign,” Reshma corrected him briskly.
“Take it home.
Go over the commission structures, the exclusivity clauses, the digital rights management, and the termination terms.
Know what we handle and where your responsibilities lie.”
Sid felt a surge of respect for her.
Good.
Very good.
He had no intention of signing anything without understanding it fully.
If Bunty’s insights into the future had taught him one harsh lesson about the entertainment industry, it was that contracts could be meaningless when money was flowing, but utterly catastrophic when things went wrong.
Reshma stood up, extending her hand.
“We’ll finalize the paperwork once you’ve reviewed the final draft.”
Sid rose and shook her hand firmly.
“I’m looking forward to working with you.”
She gave him one last, thoughtful look.
“So am I, Sidharth.”
Forty-eight hours later, Sidharth Malhotra officially signed his representation contract with Matrix.