The SRK Revelations
Sheila Kumar

I cannot, in all honesty, say that meeting Shah Rukh Khan changed
 my life. But yes, it shattered some long held myths and reinforced
 some others.
The meeting occurred when SRK was shooting in my office
for his home production ‘Phir Bhi Dil Hain Hindustani’. When
the news sizzled - and I use the word ‘sizzled’ advisedly - upwards
 to the fourth floor of the Times Building, it caused a flutter in
the Femina office, where I was at the time. A couple of journalists
 shrieked, one was seen smoothing her hair and the beauty editor
 (at that time) actually pulled out her compact.
Myth shattered:
That hard-bitten journalists who see their share of celebrities
all in a day’s work, are a blasé lot. Not.
After smoothing my hair (okay, that was me!), I went over to
 the Filmfare desk and infusing a sense of urgency in my tone,
 told them they must bring SRK to our floor. After the initial
amusement subsided, the Filmfare guys realised we were
serious (by then I had backing), and that their image as star
 buddies was at stake. SRK was there for a day and we were
 their colleagues with unlimited heckling potential for life.
Myth reinforced:
Women will take devious routes to get their way.
The Filmfare journalists delivered. Mid-morning, SRK walked
 into our office area. He was singularly unremarkable in appearance
 - a nut-brown complexion and a prominent nose being his chief
characteristics. That didn’t stop us drooling. He looked a trifle
 uneasy and uncomfortable when the afore-mentioned beauty
editor walked over to him, arm outstretched, hand held stiff in
 anticipation of a momentous shake, announcing in a bell-like
 tone, "I’m such a great fan of yours!"

Myth shattered:
That women acquire maturity as they age and lose all the giddiness
of their teenage years. Not.
Mid-drool, I realised I had a camera in my handbag. Oh! Fortuitous
circumstance! So I walked up to SRK, got duly introduced by the
  Filmfare colleague who had a positively triumphant look on his face,
and putting my hands in poem position (as one about to recite Gunga Din),
 I asked, "Mr Khan, can I have a photograph taken with you?" All I can
say in my defence, now that time has imposed its own perspective, is that
 a momentary madness had overtaken me. In any case, Mr Khan graciously
 obliged and even, at a colleague’s urging, put an arm across my
shoulder. The beauty editor and another colleague rushed to SRK’s other
side. The friend who had the camera asked which button she must click.
SRK’s arm across my shoulder had driven all coherent thought out of
my head so I stared blankly at her. Till he stepped forward and looking
 at the camera, said it must be the black one.
All one’s education is liable to desert you at crucial times.
SRK and I didn’t exchange profound thoughts, just a couple
of sentences. He had a job to do and I had to return to my desk to
 regain my equilibrium. A veritable queue of women asked
for a copy of the photograph. When it was developed, it came out
 shaky and barely discernable. Alas! But there was a prominent nose,
slightly askew in the picture and zillions of gleaming white teeth.
Myth reinforced:
Into every life, some rain must fall! 

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