Tradition is a hell of a drug. Especially in Bollywood, where the family unit isn't just a social structure—it’s a franchise. Usually, the patriarch holds the keys to the kingdom and the blueprints for the next generation. But Tusshar Kapoor just reminded everyone that the quickest way to bypass a legacy firewall is to simply stop asking for permission.

Kapoor recently admitted he "never thought of asking" his father, the legendary Jeetendra, before deciding to welcome his son via surrogacy. He called his father "old school." That’s a polite way of saying Jeetendra belongs to an era where children were the result of a very specific, rigid social contract. Tusshar, however, opted for the technical workaround. He didn’t wait for a wedding invite or a parental blessing. He just went to the lab.

It’s a classic case of tech-enabled disruption hitting the dining room table. For decades, the Indian family was a closed-loop system. You married who you were told, you reproduced when the clock hit a certain hour, and you kept the bloodline moving in a straight, predictable line. Then came assisted reproductive technology. Suddenly, the biological bottleneck disappeared. If you have the money—and let’s be clear, surrogacy in this context isn't for the working class—you can route around the patriarchy like it’s a traffic jam on the Western Express Highway.

The friction here isn’t about the science. It’s about the audacity of the silence. Imagine the scene. You’re Jeetendra. You’ve spent fifty years as the "Jumping Jack" of Indian cinema, a man whose brand was built on a very specific type of traditional masculinity. Your son comes home and tells you there’s a new heir, and by the way, the entire traditional manufacturing process was skipped. No daughter-in-law. No grand wedding. Just a biological fact.

It’s the ultimate "ask for forgiveness, not permission" move. Usually, we associate that phrase with Silicon Valley startups breaking local taxi laws or ignoring privacy regulations. But applying it to fatherhood is a different kind of cold. It’s a calculated play. Kapoor knew that if he asked, he’d trigger a debate he couldn't win. He’d be fighting decades of "old school" inertia. So he bypassed the UI entirely and went straight to the backend.

Let’s talk about the price tag, because in the world of high-end surrogacy, the ethics are often bundled into the invoice. We aren’t talking about a casual medical procedure. We’re talking about a multi-million rupee logistical operation involving legal contracts, medical intermediaries, and a level of privacy that only serious wealth can buy. In India, the regulations around this have tightened significantly over the last few years, turning what was once a "wild west" of reproductive tourism into a complex legal maze. To navigate that without your father’s input is a statement of extreme financial and emotional autonomy. It says: I don’t need your validation because I can afford the alternative.

There’s a certain irony in it, too. Kapoor is using modern, clinical logistics to perpetuate one of the oldest concepts in human history: the male heir. He’s using 21st-century bio-tech to satisfy a 19th-century obsession with lineage. He didn't want the "old school" baggage of a marriage, but he clearly wanted the "old school" status of being a father. He just wanted it on his own terms, delivered via a clean, professional service rather than a messy social entanglement.

Jeetendra reportedly took it well. He’s a grandfather now; the biological imperative usually wins out over hurt feelings. But the "old school" label Kapoor slapped on him feels like a permanent marker. It’s a way of saying, "You’re a legacy system, and I’m a new build." It’s dismissive, even if it’s wrapped in the language of respect.

We like to think that technology solves problems, but usually, it just creates new types of tension. It allows us to ignore the people we’re supposed to answer to. In the past, you had to argue with your parents because they were the only gatekeepers to your future. Now, if you have a high enough credit limit, you can just build a future they weren't invited to design.

Tusshar Kapoor didn’t just skip a conversation. He signaled the end of the patriarch as the ultimate decision-maker in the Indian home. He proved that when the "old school" gets in the way of personal branding, you just find a vendor who doesn't care about your family's history.

Is it progress? Maybe. Is it lonely? Probably. But it’s definitely efficient.

If the "Jumpin' Jack" of the 1970s couldn't see this coming, what chance do the rest of the old-school fathers have?