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.
Revelation:
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!
