SRK & the art of 'fandom-onomics'

An economist traces the nuances of gender inequality through Indian women's universal fascination with Shah Rukh Khan

Desperately Seeking Shah Rukh: India’s Lonely Young Women and the Search for Intimacy and Independence

Author: Shrayana Bhattacharya

Publisher: HarperCollins

Price: Rs 699

Pages: 445
 

In the 1990s, India witnessed two defining events. First, the Indian economy was liberalised, res­ulting in the mushrooming of the middle-class. Second, a man with his boyish charm and ready wit overtook his immediate predecessor in fame and success, becoming India’s most beloved film star, especially among the female population: Shah Rukh Khan.

These two developments may have no apparent connection. But they converge wonderfully in this book by Harvard-trained economist Shrayana Bhattacharya. In Desperately Seeking Shah Rukh: India’s Lonely Young Women and the Search for Intimacy and Independence, she combines economic reform and Shah Rukh’s rise to stardom with gender to trace the cartography of intimacy and desire and the concept of “freedom” in Indian society.

Industriously charting out the stories of Indian women from all walks of life and family backgrounds — from seemingly independent to semi-liberal households to deeply restricted environments — Bhattacharya explores how they have to negotiate their everyday choices and why, and in what ways their labour remains unappreciated. Living with familial neglect and in a world designed for the triumph of masculine and caste-patriarchal hegemony, these women found vicarious solace in the persona of the dimpled, self-aware movie star, the handsome Pathan, Shah Rukh Khan.

A reader may legitimately ask: what has a Bollywood star’s unique appeal among women to do with gender inequality, a subject conventionally reserved for scholars in gender studies departments? More so when Shah Rukh’s filmography can hardly be described as progressive? Certainly, understanding a serious socio-economic issue through the lens of fandom is a unique approach.

If you’re one of the “Ground Reality Uncles”, as Bhattacharya writes, with a thirst for data, which often vitiates the nuances that storytelling can highlight, you won’t be satisfied by this book. If, however, you’re looking for a narrative that anchors the impacts of the marginalisation of women by the inherently oppressive systems of caste-patriarchy, then this book will prove to be an enriching experience.

For now, sample these facts: “Three out of five women need permission to visit the local grocery store.” Second, “unlike men, who are not subjected to any medical exams, women crew members for Air India are required to take an internal gynaecological examination”. Third: “In 2018, only forty-three per cent of women in India owned a mobile phone compared to almost eighty per cent of Indian men, the highest such gap in the world.”

These statistics tell us that Indian women are heavily policed. The feminist lens, however, refrains from engaging any further after making this conclusion. But Bhattacharya underscores the fact that “Indian feminism struggles to explain why so many modern women, those who defy their traditional roles in the economy and fight silent battles at home, have been possessed by the idea of traditional matrimony and romance”.

To understand this and perhaps to make better use of her time during her fieldwork after burdening women with her standard survey questions, Bhattacharya would talk to these women about their favourite movie stars, songs, and their desire. Fandom, consequently, emerged as a way to understand their socio-economic reality. It explained to her why “from the drawing rooms of Jor Bagh to the forests of Jharkhand, across diverse classes and communities, Shah Rukh Khan appears as recourse in many teary-eyed moments triggered by the drudgery and ignominy of being a woman in modern India”. It leads Bhattacharya to conclude that Shah Rukh may not be the “feminist” idol but is definitely a “feminine” one, for unlike his contemporaries Salman Khan, who “protects women”, and Aamir Khan, who “teaches us”, Shah Rukh “sees us”.

That’s the deficit that economists fail to highlight: the desire to be seen, noticed and appreciated — to gain emotional support, a hallmark of human relationships. Shah Rukh appears to be the ideal candidate here because he outperforms not only other make stars but most Indian men, who use women’s bodies as vessels to vent their frustration. To live in such a society is very taxing, Bhattacharya notes, invoking economist Sendhil Mullainathan, who calls it “the hidden tax”.

Bhattacharya registered these “taxes” in form of stories from her fieldwork of over a decade, meticulously shaping and tying fandom with economics. While a Zahira from the Agarbatti Colony in the Ahmedabad city dismissed her right off the bat, labelling her as a “you think too much” person, an accountant from northeast Delhi expertly articulates what it means to be pursuing her goals in a society where men are born confident and are immediately rewarded for their half-hearted work but women continue to doubt their hard-earned successes.

Bhattacharya has worked towards crafting these stories and finding in them a larger theme of the images and idioms of desire. Take, for example, a woman called Gold. Beauty makes her happy. Growing up in Rajasthan, where the sex ratio has been perennially lopsided, for Gold, writes Bhattacharya, “her control over her external environment was so limited as to be irrelevant. Unable to edit the world outside, she edited herself”.

This makes Gold part of a self-regulated market of love, a reality that most men and women, who are editing themselves to “fit in”, face today. It’s these private struggles occurring in middle-class homes that Bhattacharya thinks are defining moments and sites for investigation for economists. Filled with dollops of sadness and fleeting moments of joy whenever these women watch Shah Rukh’s movies or his interviews on the TV, they assert that you can be a Priyanka Chopra but you’ll remain privy to “bad things” or comments. That is why, as one girl Bhattacharya interviewed said, Priyanka had to “marry a foreigner”. In India, the selfhood of careerist women is taxed heavily so that society can pride itself on the success of its male counterparts.

Bhattacharya’s politics and anger are unmissable in the text. In comparison to usually staid analyses by cis-het male economists, her work is more nuanced, layered and revealing. This book effortlessly creates a unique space for itself as a distinguished anthropological work of its time.