Shah Rukh Khan does not make political statements.He does not say much about the state of the country he has seen become a bit snappy and rude and yes, intolerant over the decades. Aamir Khan tried to opine but learnt to then know better. These two are in a unique position unlike Salman Khan from whom nobody expects anything other than an Eid blockbuster.
These two have evolved from just superstars to men who are expected to say something meaningful not just about cinema but its relationship with the world around them. That Shah Rukh was the first of the three Khans to understand this became obvious when he worked either serendipitously or with intention in Yash Chopra’s Veer Zara and Karan Johar’s My Name is Khan. In a post 9/11 world, Khan perhaps felt the need to find a thread of humanity in the prevailing discourse of hate and fear.
I remember asking him at a press conference if a film like Veer Zara was his attempt to build bridges and he was flippant in his answer. Because, the one thing Shah Rukh Khan has mastered is, to not really go into conversational zones where he can be cornered.
He will not let you make him answer a question that his work can answer for him. My Name is Khan for all its flaws too had something important to show. A man so driven by the need to find and display humanity that what people think of him or his religion, melts into insignificance. And there was the love story between a Hindu woman and a Muslim man. Radical then and even more so now.
For all the criticism that Chak De ! India gets in retrospect for a male figure towering over the female players..the fact remains that he was an ally in the film , not just of the women but of the idea of India they constituted. And he was not a majoritarian male endorsing the agenda of those in power. He was a man hounded because of his faith. He found redemption through the team he groomed and the women , already powerful, learnt through a cathartic eve teasing scene , how important it was to stand up for one another.
It was a film that belonged to them in the end regardless of what the poster conveyed. Because he shuts the door to the world and disappears while they bask in their glory. This was also the film where Khan possibly was addressing his Muslim identity in a nation becoming increasingly obsessed with Pakistan and toxic nationalism.
Raees too, for all its moral ambiguity had one thing sorted. Its bootlegger turned messiah was a profiteer but not a rioter. In one scene, he addresses the tragic politicised polarisation of communities by opening langars in four mohallas after a spate of riots and says, “When I did not discriminate between religions while doing business ..why would I do it now?” And the singularly most memorable line in the entire film comes when he says, “Main dhanda karta hoon..par dharam ka dhanda nahin karta.”
But in the end, even Raees who has kept religion and business apart becomes a pawn when in a crisis, he unwittingly gets embroiled in the smuggling of RDX. This was a film without hope.And as I wrote in my review of the film (https://unboxedwriters.com/raees-a-brave-film-that-plays-it-safe/#.XcBHr0Uzau4), this could not have been an easy film to make because unlike Iqbal in Coolie and Sikander in Muqaddar Ka Sikander, Raees is dealing with a country where religion, politics and profiteering have become indistinguishable.
So to make a film that does not offend anybody as it skims past issues like communalism and politics would have challenged director Rahul Dholakia a great deal because he dealt with a lot of backlash for making Parzania, about the 2002 riots. How much sanitisation went into the way the film was colour coded is visible in the scene where a rath carrying a leader advocating a liquor free Gujarat enters Raees’ colony but his supporters wear pink stoles and their flags are not referencing any recognisable political party.
In one of the few really poignant scenes in the film, Raees asks Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s Superintendent of Police Jaideep Ambalal Majmudar, if he can live with his blood on his conscience? In the end, despite playing safe, that is the most important question the film asks. In a country where divisive politicians walk free after causing unspeakable crimes, is the law really serving the players or the pawns?
That one of the country’s most beloved superstars dared to back a film that asked these questions shows that Khan is supremely aware of the world he lives in. And in his own way, he addresses it the only way he can. Through his work.
In Dear Zindagi, he plays Dr. Jehangir Khan in a far more more neutral context. He is here, a man of knowledge, empathy and compassion and that he chose to underplay his superstardom and stay in character, perhaps shows that as an actor he now knows the importance of brevity, of making a point without seeming to make it.
His latest appearance on David Letterman’s My Next Guest (now streaming on Netflix) never addresses the obvious questions. The politics of identity in an increasingly divided country. Or his take on it. But there is a subtext .
The episode is partially shot during Eid. When Mumbai’s bazaars are bustling with sabrangi joy and identities and colours mix and run into each other seamlessly. There is also the teeming crowd outside Mannat. I remember one young face in particular. With eyes full of love and adoration. Perhaps seeking and finding reassurance. There is nothing in the interview that Khan has not said before. But there are things that acquire significance even more so today. He shares that his father was a freedom fighter. He shares that he discovered his acting chops while playing a ‘vaanar’ in local Ram Leelas. And he asks the star struck crowd to then go for a hearty chant of ‘Siya Pati Ram Chandra Ki Jai.”
Those who grew up with him, remember his long, cathartic interviews with journalist Nishi Prem when she compared him to Howard Roark and lifted lines from The Fountainhead to describe how pearls of his genius were wasting away before those who did not see it. It was just hyperbole but he was unabashedly honest then. He said what he wanted. There is a video of him somewhere at a Holi party, dancing with his young wife. In defiance of the industry rules where star wives were never seen or heard from then. He was a rebel. Also reckless, brash and arrogant but along the way, like us, he has grown up. He has conformed but he still manages to make a point when he most needs to make it. In defiance of prevailing narratives.
He has become an actor who knows that his platform matters and that what he says or does not, matters too.
What he allowed David Letterman to see and capture is someone who does not take the love he gets from millions lightly. And what comes across also, regardless of his recent flops is this. That what he represents is not just cinematic. He represents an idea of India that is still rooted in love. An India that is like an unfolding screenplay. Full of heartbreak and the loss of innocence and flaws. But hopeful ultimately of finding a thread of cohesion and its own joyful ever after.

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Reema is the editor and co-founder of Unboxed Writers, the author of Perfect Eight, the editor of  Chicken Soup for the Soul-Indian Women, a  translator who recently interpreted  Dominican poet Josefina Baez’s book Comrade Bliss Ain’t Playing in Hindi, an  RJ  and an artist who has exhibited her work in India and the US . She won an award for her writing/book from the Public Relations Council of India in association with Bangalore University, has written for a host of national and international magazines since 1994 on cinema, theatre, music, art, architecture and more. She hopes to travel more and to grow more dimensions as a person. And to be restful, and alive in equal measure.