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!
