Being
a Khan
I
am an actor. Time does not frame my days with as much conviction as images do.
Images rule my life. Moments and memories imprint themselves on my being in the
form of the snapshots that I weave into my expression. The essence of my art is
the ability to create images that resonate with the emotional imagery of those
watching them.
I
am a Khan. The name itself conjures multiple images in my mind too: a strapping
man riding a horse, his reckless hair flowing from beneath a turban tied firm
around his head. His ruggedly handsome face marked by weathered lines and a
distinctly large nose.
A
stereotyped extremist; no dance, no drink, no cigarette tipping off his lips,
no monogamy, no blasphemy; a fair, silent face beguiling a violent fury
smoldering within. A streak that could even make him blow himself up in the
name of his God. Then there is the image of me being shoved into a back room of
a vast American airport named after an American president (another parallel
image: of the president being assassinated by a man named lee, not a Muslim
thankfully, nor Chinese as some might imagine! I urgently shove the image of
the room out of my head).
Some
stripping, frisking and many questions later, I am given an explanation (of
sorts): "Your name pops up on our system, we are sorry". "So am
I," I think to myself, "Now can I have my underwear back
please?" Then, there is the image I most see, the one of me in my own
country: being acclaimed as a megastar, adored and glorified, my fans mobbing
me with love and apparent adulation.
I
am a Khan.
I
could say I fit into each of these images: I could be a strapping six feet
something - ok something minus, about three inches at least, though I don't
know much about horse-riding. A horse once galloped off with me flapping
helplessly on it and I have had a "no horse-riding" clause embedded
in my contracts ever since.
I
am extremely muscular between my ears, I am often told by my kids, and I used
to be fair too, but now I have a perpetual tan or as I like to call it 'olive
hue' - though deep In the recesses of my armpits I can still find the remains
of a fairer day. I am handsome under the right kind of light and I really do
have a "distinctly large" nose. It announces my arrival in fact,
peeking through the doorway just before I make my megastar entrance. But my
nose notwithstanding, my name means nothing to me unless I contextualize it.
Stereotyping
and contextualizing is the way of the world we live in: a world in which
definition has become central to security. We take comfort in defining
phenomena, objects and people - with a limited amount of knowledge and along
known parameters. The predictability that naturally arises from these
definitions makes us feel secure within our own limitations.
We
create little image boxes of our own. One such box has begun to draw its lid
tighter and tighter at present. It is the box that contains an image of my
religion in millions of minds.
I
encounter this tightening of definition every time moderation is required to be
publicly expressed by the Muslim community in my country. Whenever there is an
act of violence in the name of Islam, I am called upon to air my views on it
and dispel the notion that by virtue of being a Muslim, I condone such
senseless brutality. I am one of the voices chosen to represent my community in
order to prevent other communities from reacting to all of us as if we were
somehow colluding with or responsible for the crimes committed in the name of a
religion that we experience entirely differently from the perpetrators of these
crimes.
I
sometimes become the inadvertent object of political leaders who choose to make
me a symbol of all that they think is wrong and unpatriotic about Muslims in
india. There have been occasions when I have been accused of bearing allegiance
to our neighboring nation rather than my own country - this even though I am an
Indian whose father fought for the freedom of India. Rallies have been held
where leaders have exhorted me to leave my home and return to what they refer
to as my "original homeland". Of course, I politely decline each
time, citing such pressing reasons as sanitation words at my house preventing
me from taking the good shower that's needed before undertaking such an
extensive journey. I don't know how long this excuse will hold though.
I
gave my son and daughter names that could pass for generic (pan-Indian and
pan-religious) ones: Aryan and Suhana. The Khan has been bequeathed by me so
they can't really escape it. I pronounce it from my epiglottis when asked by
Muslims and throw the Aryan as evidence of their race when non-Muslims enquire.
I
imagine this will prevent my offspring from receiving unwarranted eviction
orders and random fatwas in the future. It will also keep my two children
completely confused. Sometimes, they ask me what religion they belong to and,
like a good Hindi movie hero, I roll my eyes up to the sky and declare
philosophically, "You are an Indian first and your religion is
humanity", or sing them an old Hindi film ditty, "Tu Hindu banega na
Musalmaan banega - insaan ki aulaad hai insaan banega" set to Gangnam
Style.
None
of this informs them with any clarity, it just confounds them some more and
makes them deeply wary of their father.
In
the land of the freed, where I have been invited on several occasions to be honored,
I have bumped into ideas that put me in a particular context. I have had my
fair share of airport delays for instance.
I
became so sick of being mistaken for some crazed terrorist who coincidentally
carries the same last name as mine that I made a film, subtly titled My name is
Khan (and I am not a terrorist) to prove a point. Ironically, I was
interrogated at the airport for hours about my last name when I was going to
present the film in America for the first time. I wonder, at times, whether the
same treatment is given to everyone whose last name just happens to be McVeigh
(as in Timothy)??
I
don't intend to hurt any sentiments, but truth be told, the aggressor and taker
of life follows his or her own mind. It has to nothing to do with a name, a
place or his/her religion. It is a mind that has its discipline, its own
distinction of right from wrong and its own set of ideologies. In fact, one
might say, it has its own "religion". This religions has nothing to
do with the ones that have existed for centuries and been taught in mosques or
churches. The call of the azaan or the words of the pope have no bearing on
this person's soul. His soul is driven by the devil. I, for one, refuse to be
contextualized by the ignorance of his ilk.
I
am a Khan.
I
am neither six-feet-tall nor handsome (I am modest though) nor am I a Muslim
who looks down on other religions. I have been taught my religion by my
six-foot-tall, handsome Pathan 'Papa' from Peshawar, where his proud family and
mine still resides. He was a member of the no-violent Pathan movement called
Khudai Khidamatgaar and a follower of both Gandhiji and Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan,
who was also known as the Frontier Gandhi.
My
first learning of Islam from him was to respect women and children and to uphold
the dignity of every human being. I learnt that the property and decency of
others, their points of view, their beliefs, their philosophies and their
religions were due as much respect as my own and ought to be accepted with an
open mind. I learnt to believe in the power and benevolence of Allah, and to be
gentle and kind to my fellow human beings, to give of myself to those less
privileged than me and to live a life full of happiness, joy, laughter and fun
without impinging on anybody else's freedom to live in the same way.
So
I am a Khan, but no stereotyped image is factored into my idea of who I am.
Instead, the living of my life has enabled me to be deeply touched by the love
of millions of Indians. I have felt this love for the last 20 years regardless
of the fact that my community is a minority within the population of India. I
have been showered with love across national and cultural boundaries, from
Suriname to Japan and Saudi Arabia to Germany, places where they don't even
understand my language. They appreciate what I do for them as an entertainer -
that's all. My life has led me to understand and imbibe that love is a pure
exchange, untempered by definition and unfettered by the narrowness of limiting
ideas. If each one of us allowed ourselves the freedom to accept and return
love in its purity, we would need no image boxes to hold up the walls of our
security.
I
believe that I have been blessed with the opportunity to experience the
magnitude of such a love, but I also know that its scale is irrelevant. In our
own small ways, simply as human beings, we can appreciate each other for how
touch our lives and not how our different religions or last names define us.
Beneath
the guise of my superstardom, I am an ordinary man. My Islamic stock does not
conflict with that of my Hindu wife's. The only disagreements I have with Gauri
concern the color of the walls in our living room and not about the locations
of the walls demarcating temples from mosques in India.
We
are bringing up a daughter who pirouettes in a leotard and choreographs her own
ballets. She sings western songs that confound my sensibilities and aspires to
be an actress. She also insists on covering her head when in a Muslim nation
that practices this really beautiful and much misunderstood tenet of Islam.
Our
son's linear features proclaim his Pathan pedigree although he carries his own,
rather gentle mutations of the warrior gene. He spends all day either pushing
people asie at rugby, kicking some butt at Tae Kwon Do or eliminating unknown
faces behind anonymous online gaming handles around the world with The Call of
Duty video game. And yet, he firmly admonishes me for getting into a minor
scuffle at the cricket stadium in Mumbai last year because some bigot make
unsavory remarks about me being a Khan.
The
four of us make up a motley representation of the extraordinary acceptance and
validation that love can foster when exchanged within the exquisiteness of
things that are otherwise defined ordinary.
For
I believe, our religion is an extremely personal choice, not a public
proclamation of who we are. It's as person as the spectacles of my father who
passed away some 20 years ago. Spectacles that I hold onto as my most prized
and personal possession of his memories, teachings and of being a proud Pathan.
I have never compared those with my friends, who have similar possessions of
their parents or grandparents. I have never said my father's spectacles are
better than your mother's saree. So why should we have this comparison in the
matter of religion, which is as personal and prized a belief as the memories of
your elders. Why should not the love we share be the last word in defining us
instead of the last name? It doesn't take a superstar to be able to give love,
it just takes a heart and as far as I know, there isn't a force on this earth
that can deprive anyone of theirs.
I
am a Khan, and that's what it has meant being one, despite the stereotype
images that surround me. To be a Khan has been to be loved and love back - that
the promise that virgins wait for me somewhere on the other side.
Shah Rukh Khan
