Alright, let's cut the crap. We need to talk about this Sonakshi Sinha ad, because the internet seems to think a rich person acknowledging they’re rich is some kind of revolutionary act. I just watched a commercial where a movie star, born into a movie star dynasty, literally shoves a golden spoon in her mouth and tells the peasants to "deal with it," and people are calling it "owning the narrative."
Give me a break.
This isn't owning the narrative. This is just a slicker, more Instagram-friendly version of "let them eat cake." It’s privilege performing a little pantomime of self-awareness for profit. And the fact that it's for a grocery delivery app, of all things, just makes the whole spectacle even more absurd.
The "Brave" Confession of a Movie Star
So here’s the setup: a new ad for Instamart. It opens with a fake ultrasound, showing a baby Sonakshi with a golden spoon already in her mouth. We see her as a kid, hula-hooping with it, posing with it. It’s her accessory, her birthright. The whole thing is shot like a high-fashion perfume ad, all slow-motion and dramatic lighting, the golden spoon gleaming under the studio lights like some holy relic. Then, in the climax, she gets cornered by reporters asking about nepotism.
She just shrugs, smirks, and a voiceover declares that her "gold is sorted by birth." Her comeback, delivered with the confidence of someone who has never had to worry about rent, is "Aap apna dekh lo?" which basically translates to, "You worry about you."
Let’s be brutally honest about what that line really means. It’s not a witty clapback. It's a dismissal. It's the velvet-gloved version of telling everyone without a famous last name to get back in their lane. It’s like watching a billionaire "joke" about his offshore accounts at a charity gala. He’s not being self-aware; he’s reminding you that he plays by a different set of rules, and you don’t. Is this really the pinnacle of celebrity empowerment we're celebrating? Acknowledging an advantage you never earned and then cheekily telling everyone else it's their problem?
The whole thing is packaged as humor, but it feels more like a threat. A smiling, perfectly-lit, commercially-sanctioned threat. It’s a masterclass in deflection. Instead of engaging with the very real, systemic issues of access and opportunity in an industry like Bollywood, she—or rather, the marketing team at Instamart—has turned it into a punchline where the joke is on anyone who ever dared to question the status quo. And offcourse, people are eating it up.
Selling Groceries with a Side of Classism
This whole thing would be bad enough if it were just a personal social media stunt. But it’s not. It’s a commercial designed to sell you something. Groceries. Delivered in minutes. This isn't a bad strategy. No, 'bad' doesn't cover it—this is a five-alarm dumpster fire of corporate tone-deafness masquerading as edgy marketing.
Think about it. Who is the target audience for an instant grocery delivery app? It’s regular people. People who are too busy, too tired, or just don’t have the time to go to the store. People for whom a golden spoon is something you only see in a museum. So what’s the message here? "Hey, you know how your life is a constant grind? Well, here’s a super-privileged celebrity reminding you that her life has been 'sorted' from birth. Now, buy some milk from us."
It's a bizarre alignment of brand and messenger. It feels like they had a marketing meeting and someone said, "You know what connects with the common man? Flaunting unearned wealth and dismissing their concerns with a smirk." It’s a level of out-of-touch thinking that I honestly find impressive. It’s almost an art form.
And what does this say about where we are as a culture? We’ve become so beaten down by the spectacle of extreme wealth and inherited power that when someone from that world finally winks at us about it, we thank them for their honesty. We’re so desperate for a crumb of authenticity that we’ll accept a polished, focus-grouped performance of it. They're not mocking the system; they're mocking the people who critique it. They’ve managed to rebrand nepotism as a kind of charming personality quirk, and the audience is applauding them for it. It's a clever trick, I'll give them that. But it's still just a trick—
The Joke's on Us, Apparently
Let's not get it twisted. This ad isn’t brave. It isn’t subversive. It’s the final, logical endpoint of celebrity culture in 2025: monetizing your own privilege. It's taking the biggest criticism leveled against you, polishing it up, putting a price tag on it, and selling it back to the very people it disadvantages. It’s a cynical, brilliant, and deeply depressing piece of marketing that proves one thing: if you’re rich and famous enough, you can even sell the rope they want to hang you with.
标签： #nepotism