There’s a telling nugget in Kevin Kwan’s globally successful book Crazy Rich Asians.
“For some reason, your grandmother’s house didn’t show up on my GPS,” one character bemusedly tells another.
We later find out this obscurity is a credit to the grandmother’s rarefied level of wealth. To be rich is to be famous. But to be powerful is to be anonymous.
I’m reminded of this portion as I make my way around one of Mumbai’s poshest neighbourhood one late summer evening, looking for the home of Orhan Awatramani. Or, as his thousands of obsessed fans know him, Orry.
The Indo-Saracenic architectural style building, which Orry shares with his family, isn’t easily located, even with GPS.
It's a freakishly lucky coincidence that conveniently feeds into Gen-Z’s cultural obsession with the 24-year-old. Bollywood’s most notorious BFF is a famous-for-being-famous multi-hyphenate and no one is quite sure what he does exactly.
Yet, he’s at every luxury brand’s party, often flying around the world to attend them, arm-in-arm with celebrities, from India's biggest stars to Kylie Jenner and Rihanna.
Is Orry an accidentally-on-purpose design, because there must be a hidden order of semblance to all the whirlwind and whimsy that accompanies him? Even sitting down opposite him in his home, it’s really hard to tell.
In pure numbers, Orry’s wild popularity makes little sense. He has 1.2 million followers on Instagram, and only recently launched his TikTok (16k followers) and YouTube channel (34k subscribers). By all measures, Orry should command the clout of a mid-sized influencer at best.
He rarely endorses brands or name-checks the designers or products he’s wearing. He’s not wooing labels in the hopes of walking their runway or getting freebies.
“I don’t have to… Because I don’t source, I buy. I need to own everything I wear, even if I never wear it again,” he tells me, wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the words "I am a liver".
It's an ode to a meme-spawning viral video he appeared in last year, in which he proclaimed: "You go for a jog, you are a jogger. You paint, you are a painter. I am living, I am a liver."
And yet, there’s no escaping Orry or his antics.
It takes almost 12 weeks of co-ordination and scheduling to pin him down for this sit-down interview. He was first in London, then New York, then back in London, then Dubai for a combination of shoots and appearances before finally making his way back home to Mumbai for a few days, before taking off to Europe.
It’s not like he can lie about travelling when he isn’t, considering there’s little about his life that isn’t documented or available for public consumption.
“If I’m hanging out with you, you’ve signed an unwritten contract that you’ve given up any claim to privacy. If you’re with me, you’re part of the Orry content factory,” he says.
But not all high-flying and jet-setting around the world is equal. And this round was particularly special.
“I was shooting my cameos! You’re going to see me in two Dharma Productions, plus the Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives, and a commercial that will come out soon. And… the London trip was to shoot my Hollywood debut,” he exclaims, visibly excited. “The Hollywood cameo – I won it in a charity auction hosted by Alia [Bhatt]. I hit it off with the director and I told her: 'Babe, I have to do this with you', and so I put in the £10,000 bid because it was anyway for a good cause.
“That’s how I weaseled my way into the movie,” he chortles.
So acting’s next? “No, no. I’m not an actor. I’m too busy living,” he says.
Acting might not be on the cards in a serious way, but Bollywood is an important stop in Orryland. He is routinely papped with Bollywood’s rising Gen-Z stars, usually the star children of celebrity parents, such as Janhvi and Khushi Kapoor, Ananya Panday, Sara and Ibrahim Ali Khan, Suhana Khan, and Nysa Devgan, to name a few.
Orry was even seen glued to Rihanna at Anant Ambani’s pre-wedding festivities in March, as well as posing with Nita Ambani.
His inexplicable celebrity, which hinges almost entirely on his preternatural ability to be everywhere all at once, even landed him a spot on Season 17 of Bigg Boss last year at Salman Khan’s behest, as well as on the Season 8 finale of Koffee With Karan in January. He keeps getting famous-er, simply for being famous, without any major precipitating event or point of origin for said fame.
No one knew Orry until, one fine day, everyone was losing their head over him.
“True story – there are actual rich kids who have paid me between 10 and 30 lakh rupees [up to Dh132,000] to just hang out and have dinner with them in their homes because they like my vibe. In fact, I have to be careful not to start liking them because if we become actual friends, I can’t charge them for my time,” he says with a laugh.
There is much about Orry’s life that’s hard to wrap one’s head around.
He has zero qualms about saying all the things we’ve been taught not to say. It might allow him to tap into a regenerative pool of content that shocks. But it also betrays a level of self-awareness that’s both refreshing and perplexing.
Like: “I want to be like the classy Lily from Gossip Girl, but I think I’m a lot like Georgina. I know how to play people. I know whose ear I need to whisper into so the message reaches the right person. I can map how a rumour will travel in my world.”
Or: “I totally stalk the people I don’t like. I even leave nasty comments under their profiles. Sometimes Instagram threatens to block me when I do this.”
Or, a personal favourite: “I’m a grudge-holder, but I won’t do anything shady to even the score because I’m petrified of rule-breaking. I hate the idea of getting caught or getting scolded. And I know that I have more to lose than most people because I’ve been extremely fortunate in life.”
But what is amply clear is that no one loves Orry more than himself. Perhaps this is the reason his audience is transfixed. To be so self-loving and self-accepting in a world that’s constantly trying to make you feel like you’ll never be enough, is a thing of beauty. And, oftentimes, consternation.
Orry loves his life. He loves his wealth. He loves his rich and famous friends. If he could have it his way, he’d even have some criminal pals.
“You know, I met Anna Delvey back in the day, when she was conning all of New York into believing she was an obscenely rich heiress. I admire her. I mean, she’s signing movie deals, hosting podcasts, throwing parties and organising fashion shows under house arrest. I think we’d be great friends!”
Orry, it seems, even loves his haters. “I’ll sometimes even share their posts because what’s more satisfying than knowing that the only thing they’ll ever be known for is that Orry took notice of them one time? Like that nobody influencer,” he says, cheerily.
He's talking about “Insta-poet” Ruchika Lohiya. In March, Lohiya posted a video about losing confidence after Orry didn’t shake hands with her at an awards show. The video has racked up more than six million views so far, garnering criticism for both Orry (for his snootiness) and Lohiya (for her fragility).
“She should be glad I still gave her a fist bump. But I have to give it to that snake. She waited until I was on my vacation to release her sad little reel. Fine, let her have her two minutes of fame, then.”
Because I have to, I ask: “Can I quote you on this?”
Back comes the reply: “Please do.”
