Our Bollywood superstars seem to be assured of our unwavering, uncritical devotion.
Stupid is as stupid does. No one illustrates this truism better than our current crop of Bollywood stars. Take, for example, Anil Kapoor who recently offered this fawning defence of Hollywood’s history of racism: “I have worked all over the world, and I have never seen this kind of equality when it comes to being offered roles. If you are talented, can draw people, deliver the quality of work and bring in the money, [Hollywood] will accept you even if you are from Timbuktu.” A Hollywood star, irrespective of stature, would be flayed alive for saying anything remotely as absurd. In new India, however, this kind of foolishness is merely par for the course. Where a Brad Pitt must carefully measure each word or action to protect his image, our A-list celebrities preen and prattle with impunity, assured of our unwavering, uncritical devotion.
There was some hue and cry when Anil’s Kapoor’s daughter Sonam attacked columnist Shobhaa De on Twitter for panning her movie, I Hate Luv Storys. “Guys pls [sic] don’t take Shobha De seriously. She’s a fossil who’s getting no action and going through menopause,” declared the message. Later, Sonam breezily apologised, leaving De to grumble on her blog about the “current generation of
Bollywood brats” and “their monumental arrogance and limited intelligence”. But it’s not just the kids who are talking ugly these days. The reality is that most Bollywood stars, sexagenarians like Big B included, operate in one of three modes: dumb, self-obsessed, or just plain greedy. So inured are we to this norm that any deviation — for instance, Aamir Khan financing a small, intelligent movie like Peepli Live — is viewed as a towering act of courage.
The standard-bearer of new Bollywood’s narcissistic materialism is, of course, Shah Rukh Khan, who will happily plug cancer-causing fairness creams for an extra buck. A man so self-effacing that he had to be “bullied” into a 10-part series dedicated to showcasing his fabulous life, including his luxurious homes, designer wardrobe and jetsetting vacations. Living with a Superstar, which aired in February, was less a ‘documentary’ than a shameless infomercial for Brand Khan, produced by his own company and directed by his friend. The press release said, “With this groundbreaking series on India's biggest superstar Shah Rukh Khan, we are surpassing all established definitions of lifestyle entertainment.”
“Groundbreaking” indeed, for completely erasing the line between advertising and content. No other celebrity has received this much free publicity in the guise of programming, and worse, without drawing criticism. So exceptional is King Khan’s life that the series returns for a second season this month, no doubt to offer us a personal tour of his gilded toilets. As Khan explains, he is merely bowing to popular demand: “People contacted me with comments like, ‘We saw your life and it’s really nice’, ‘It’s nice to know your perspective about failure and success.’” What’s sadder still is that he’s not lying.
Fame is the new Indian religion. Our mortal gods are well-rewarded for their divine narcissism with lucrative product endorsements, endless media coverage, and our slavish attention. “The celebrity is a person who is known for his well-knowness... He has been fabricated on purpose to satisfy our exaggerated expectations of human greatness,” observed the historian Daniel Boorstin. Shah Rukh Khan is dubbed the “face of new, glittering India” for good reason. In his single-minded pursuit of wealth, status, and attention, he epitomises what passes for “greatness” in a culture that worships success. In a democracy, we get the leaders we deserve. So it is with our celebrities.
[Lakshmi Chaudhry is a Bangalore-based freelance writer]