That was the problem. Pooja was not Maya. Maya was ethereal, perfect, a fantasy. Pooja was real—she had morning breath, opinions, and a temper. How could a man who chased a dream ever settle for reality?
"You're an idiot," she sobbed. "You made me believe in something I swore didn't exist." dil to pagal hai english translation
She pulled off her choreographer's badge and threw it at his feet. "You want to know who draws the Maya in your script? I do. I'm the one who created her. And I'm tired of competing with a shadow." That was the problem