November 2, 2015
My dear Shah bhai,
Happy 50th.
Okay, so happy is the regular kind of word to use for birthdays but also the handiest one. Can’t rustle up a smarter one. Could have perhaps a variation in French (bon anniversaire), even Greek (chronia palia) and Latin (felix natalis). Naaah, this isn’t a day to be clever, I hope happy will do.
Also to me happy sounds professional, emotionally neutral. And like it or not, a journalist, albeit from the old school, shouldn’t lapse into a public display of affection. On a SMS after one of my reviews raving ‘yippy-what-a-tremendous- performance by SRK’ you said, “Love you.” To that I’d replied, “I know.” Terse maybe but non-committal, or so I’d like to believe.
And of course, there was that February night when I’d lost my mother, and you called to instruct me on how to bear the loss. “Go out to your balcony,” you said gently. “Identify a star in the sky, that’s her. You can be in touch with her always.” I did scan the clear sky, though I knew I couldn’t track that star down ever again.
Birthdays would be remembered on a quid pro quo basis. “Big boy, so how young are you today?” your opening line on my birthday would go infallibly. My stock-in-trade line to you on November 2 was, “Khan bhai, keep rocking.” Rock has been the zingy word ever since a couple of decades ago, evoking an image of you impersonating Jim Morrison to belt out Riders on the storm…
Without you knowing it, I’d often heard you hum Jim Morrison. And at the mahurat event of Koyla, of all films, I’d heard you sing along, somewhat nervously, to Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl being blasted from the multi-star hotel’s in-house speakers. He likes Joel, huh? And knows the lyrics, too, ad verbatim. Impressed. This guy’s kinda cool.
Uber cool actually, since actors don’t sing under their breath at mahurats, nervously or otherwise. And you were nervous, while Madhuri Dixit, ever so poised on the dais, smiled her fluoride smile. Never thought of this till today. Letter writing can dredge up the strangest memories.
In any case, why a letter, and that too on a public platform? I’m aware of the danger that it could be misread as an Uncle-like greeting call. Worse, it could be interpreted as a feeler for the renewal of ‘friendship’, a hint for let’s get back to the way we were, or it could be construed as a belated gratitude for bidding me to scan the sky for that lost star.
None of these are my motive, God forbid. At most, I’m writing this watchamacallit as an instinctive flashback to another kind of star, a superstar whose career and accomplishments I have admired and at times, been befuddled by.
I’m not sure if the Shah Rukh Khan of today is the Shah Rukh Khan I knew. Silly notion, I know. Because change is a must. Growth and evolution are as endemic as the advance of age and I daresay, new priorities.
It has to be accepted that the restless boy of New Delhi is now a one-man industry, the Khan who’s unstoppable, never mind the setbacks and Kafkaesque complications that are unavoidable in the gladiatoral Colosseum of showbiz.
You’ve seen showbiz in an infinitely sharper close-up than I have for sure. You’ve told me about the video handycam gifted to you in the fledgling days of gizmogiri, by a self-styled showman. When you backed out of his next project, he asked to borrow the handycam, promising that it would be returned shortly. It wasn’t returned. And you chuckled over this sportingly.
In addition, there’s that story about another movie lord who believed his offers couldn’t be refused, even at a piffling fee. His rationale: After all, his movie was more than likely to be a blockbuster, it would boost your market equity. Eventually you accepted the film despite the measly pay packet, because you still held him in respect, perhaps out of deference to his age and stature.
I’m not naming names. Why do that? All that’s in the distant past, when money didn’t matter to you. I’d like to think that it still doesn’t. All I know is that quite a few of those who kid themselves that they ‘created’ Shah Rukh Khan, owe you. Never mind. It’s happened to other prominent actors, too. It’s a rule of the game, which has to be played in the world’s largest film casino.
With escalating fame and fortune, things do change. Yet, your acting chops still have dollops of sauce and skill. Or that’s what I can figure out from the better projects you’ve opted for, intermittently, especially Swades and Chak De! India. Or take Chennai Express. Not my cuppa, but its first hour or so catches you at your zaniest. After which you left the floor open for Deepika Padukone to overshadow you. Was that gallantry or simple indifference to the script when it lost its sting?
Maybe actors are at their most adventurous, initially when they’re discovering the process of how to spar with the camera. Which is why like Amitabh Bachchan’s performances, your vintage ones are the best in my book: Baazigar, Darr, Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa and Anjaam right down to Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. High energy, stealth and sparks flew from the screen. Lately, that unparalleled adrenaline has been conspicuous by its absence.
Believe me, this is not the day to subject you to criticism, even if it is faint and well-meaning. Clearly, you can’t field criticism the way you used to, for which to a large degree I blame your ever-enlarging durbar of courtiers who have anointed you Badshah and King Khan. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Right?
That you’re venturing off-the-beaten track with Raees and Fan is an auspicious sign, though. Go for the jugular SRK, you have nothing to lose but your chains really.
Aah, enough bak bak, no? On your birthday, here’s wishing that you’re surrounded by Godzilla-sized bouquets and heaps of gifts—which like Shaikh Chilli, you said none of your friends care to get for you. Ha, ha. Maybe that was to make me feel ten feet tall when I brought along a paperback or two for your big day once. I’m not sure you ever read them. You have your own enormous library of bestsellers and leather-bound classics to go through. And, there’s that Kindle that you clutched like a toy thousands of moons ago. Of all the book lovers I know, you were the first to get that gizmo. I’m still stuck to the scent of paper and print. Old fashioned that way.
Plus, old fashioned enough to rummage through my books and discover a tome, which you had somehow delivered to me at the Heathrow airport. In case you don’t remember, I was in the departure lounge and you in the arrival. Imagine my surprise when an airline steward came over with a copy of Barry Norman: 100 Best Films of the Century, signed by you.
Your note said:
May your film figure in this book’s next edition. But then I don’t think Barry Norman is so important that he should like or dislike your film. It’s important that you like the film you are making.
If there is any part I can play to help out with your ‘labour of love’, you just need to leave a message on my answering machine.
All the best for your film and for your life…Just go ahead and shoot and have fun..everything else will follow, Insha-Allah. Love.
– Shah Rukh Khan
The film in question was Fiza, 15 years ago.
Thank you for that book and more than that, the encouragement Shah Bhai.
That no one can ever take away from me.
Like no one can take away this letter addressed to you today: All the best for your films and for your life… everything else will follow, Insha-Allah.
Love.
Khalid
(The writer is a film critic, filmmaker, theatre director and weekend painter)
(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)