How do you break the ice with women across ages and regions in (North) India as you conduct surveys on employment, wages, and living conditions? What can you ask them in the breaks to get them to feel more comfortable, to get a sense of their lives? Shrayana Bhattacharya had a go-to question: “Who is your favourite actor?” The answer very often was Shah Rukh Khan.
Through this answer, Bhattacharya started piecing together a story of what made Indian women love SRK, and what that love can tell us about the women themselves. That story that Bhattacharya has been living since 2006 became the genesis of the book Desperately Seeking Shah Rukh.
The book is divided into four segments: the first three tell us stories of elite, middle class, and lower-class women who love Shah Rukh (and he is always called Shah Rukh by them); the last comes to Mumbai, right outside Khan’s bungalow Mannat, and Bhattacharya has for her protagonists the people she meets there. The book is subtitled “India’s lonely young women and the search for intimacy and independence,” and her detailed and intricate research shows how lonely and constrained Indian women really are, across financial strata and where they live. It is literally only the first chapter that is about Shah Rukh; the rest of the book is about what we can learn about ourselves — as fans, as women, as Indians, through SRK and his movies. The book starts like a typical Bollywood movie — there is a girl who has had a breakup, and she is looking for comfort and companionship, which she eventually finds in her favourite film star. However, it would be wrong to dismiss SRK as nothing more than her favourite star. He is her confidant, her friend, her ideal man. The rest of the book is not as filmy though, and it does not even place Bollywood at the centre stage. Through her interactions and stories, she comments on marriage, singledom, and dating in metro cities in India, women in the labour force, girls in school and why they do not stay there, and even on issues like the development of roads in rural India. The book is full of numbers and statistical data.
However, do not worry. The writing style and the narrative do not make you lose interest even in the drier topics. There is always a heartwarming incident or a joke mentioned, and after all, there is always SRK in the background, much like he is in the lives of the women.
The women in the book see SRK as many things — ideal lover, an escape from their mundane lives, and an aspirational figure who has managed to rise above his middle-class upbringing. One incident that particularly stuck with me was a man who calls up his friend after cracking the UPSC exams: “Ab main toh Shah Rukh ban gaya,” he says, showing us how ambition and leading a better life are often synonymous with the idea of Shah Rukh Khan.
All of the women are especially struck by how respectful he is towards the women in his life and in his films — it is the way he sees them, listens to them, romances them. The women feel seen — it is their stories and their desires he brings to the screen.
However, while Bhattacharya has tried to encapsulate women of all regions, religions, and socio-economic classes, she admits that the book lacks queer and non-binary voices. I do not know if the book is representative of all women in India or even of all fans (and the book does touch upon the personal nature of fandom). Still, it does explore questions of women’s independence and loneliness effectively. It also gives an insightful look at fan culture itself. What makes a fan? What part of our lives is dictated by our fandom? Some women collect memorabilia; for some, watching a full SRK movie is not possible because of power cuts and lack of finances. For some in a far-flung village, fandom means putting aside small amounts of money every month to rent a SRK movie and watch it with your female friends. How does this fandom bring women together, and what effect does it have on families, especially conservative ones?
SRK often comes up unexpectedly in these women’s lives. For one, freedom means the ability to go out, buy your own movie ticket, and watch a SRK film in the theatre. Another appreciates the courage of Raj in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge even as the movie is derided for its regressiveness. Another is obsessed with Dil Toh Pagal Hai. Her favourite bit is when SRK lip-syncs to ‘Pyaar Kar’ even though she tells her daughter, the author, and herself that this love and romance is not possible in real life — “Yeh sab filmon mein hota hai” (This happens only in movies). The book has several heartwarming moments, of women reaching out to other fans, of always finding comfort in SRK’s smile, eyes, arms, and interviews. These girls have grown up with SRK, they have travelled with SRK, and they have learnt about love, about sex, about dreams from the man. “By the late 1990s, the country’s elite and neo-middle class had developed a cumulative crush on Sachin Tendulkar, the Miss India pageant, and Shah Rukh Khan. Educated urban fans would borrow language from the media, and tell me that Shah Rukh was India’s first ‘post-liberalisation superstar.’ But if you had limited access to the media, little awareness of Manmohan Singh’s 1991 budget speech, were unable to read newspapers, and did not understand terms like ‘GDP’ and ‘reforms,’ Shah Rukh was liberalisation,” Bhattacharya writes in the book. We know, of course, of the impact of cinema on society. I am sure we have all read articles and essays that suggest the same. What this book does is that it humanises these stories. Told from the perspective of fans, we really understand cinema’s power to comfort, help, and unite. Especially, the power of Shah Rukh Khan. Desperately Seeking Shah Rukh is published by HarperCollins India. Shreemayee Das is a writer and a stand-up comedian. She writes mostly on cinema and culture. You can find her on Instagram and Twitter @weepli.