You don’t have to be a Shah Rukh Khan fan to see what the fuss is all about. Even those of us who roll eyes at his too-muchness have our moments of complete surrender. Reading Shrayana Bhattacharya’s Desperately Seeking Shah Rukh: India’s Lonely Young Women and the Search for Intimacy and Independence, an economist’s deep dive into working women’s romantic aspirations, reminds you of all that you love about the man. (Man-child? Man-machine?) But when you think about the post-’80s era, it’s difficult to look at SRK in isolation. The other two Khans pop up instantly in the three-headed emblem of Bollywood romance.
Don’t diss Bhai, or else…
I grew up with a very strong incentive to idolise Salman Khan: the unabashed adoration that a sibling felt for him. And Maine Pyar Kiya (1989) was quite the recommendation. Plus, those Thums Up and Relaxo chappal ads on Doordarshan were gold. Over three decades, my feelings have turned from starry-eyed wonder to heavy-hearted disappointment to sour-tasting revulsion. I worry about Bhai fans, subscribing to his brand of toxic masculinity. “But he has a heart of gold! He does charity! He’s genuine!” I hear the bhakts say. Why defend the invincible? is my weary response.
Two films shine on in memory, nonetheless. One—Andaz Apna Apna (1994), in which Salman plays the bumbling foil, Prem, to Aamir Khan’s street-smart Amar. One can’t help but find his terrible acting endearing, in sharp contrast to the commanding Aamir. I absolutely love the continuity issues of the cult favourite, with Salman’s hair serving as a cautionary tale for any third AD. Then there’s Bajrangi Bhaijaan (2015), which I hate myself for loving. Treating women of all ages with care and respect, even dressing in a burqa to escape arrest—there’s a role model for the bossy Khan.
The God complex
{{/usCountry}}The God complex
{{/usCountry}}Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (1988) has aged surprisingly well, considering it’s about two warring Rajput families standing in for the Montagues and Capulets of Romeo and Juliet. And then there’s the aforementioned masterpiece, Andaz Apna Apna. Lagaan and Dil Chahta Hai, both out in 2001, ushered in a better breed of mainstream cinema after the brazen tackiness of the previous two decades. Then, one day, Aamir discovered the God complex and became Bollywood’s self-crowned social reformer. This has made for some very useful (if often dull) cinema and television, much like the man himself. Undoubtedly talented in the acting and marketing departments, Aamir’s persona is the antidote to Salman’s, the two serving cultural commentators and ’90s canteen debates exceedingly well.
Aamir has fashioned himself as the master of reinvention, moving admirably from character to character. What worries me, however, going by a recent spate of ads, is that age-old affliction that hits middle-aged men: they take the adage ‘Age is just a number’ a bit too seriously. And so, we have commercials with the actor pushing 60 scootering, dancing and selfie’ing like a millennial. Ageing male stars, unlike their female counterparts, are clearly not served a reality check by market forces.
Arms wide open
Like others who share my earthy-hipster leanings, I belong to the Swades (2004), Chak De! India (2007) and Dear Zindagi (2016) school of SRK love. (Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa [1994] is in its own rarefied company.) Of course, one has a special affinity for the romantic confections that the bobblehead hero peddles, but it’s mind-boggling how easily he flicks a switch to give the public, however niche, whatever it wants. From proclaiming his love for the youth-brand Pepsi (“Main bacha hoon, toh mujhe meethi cheezein pasand hain”) to taking over as the Thums Up mascot with messy hair, groomed beard and a fit yet unintimidating body, he’s transitioned to late middle-age like a shape-shifting superhero. Don’t like his films? There’s a riveting Ted Talk to absorb or an entertaining interview to devour, as Bhattacharya’s book explains. Quite the package.
And so, the myth lives on. Floppy hair, body-hugging tees, cheeky grin, self-deprecating wit—SRK is the celeb we all deserve, equal parts admirable and laughable. These days, whether he’s raising his palms in prayer at a funeral or putting his arm around his son’s lawyers, he has fingers pointing at him. I’m rooting for him to rise above the rot.
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From HT Brunch, May 21, 2022
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