If Hindi cinema were a story, then Aamir Khan would be the protagonist. It is a whimsical thought, but not an outlandish one. Throughout his career, the actor has been a shapeshifter and, by extension, shaped the narrative around films. His strides lent momentum to the industry, and his leaps stoked creativity in productions. His off-kilter choices (producing a 224-minute sports film, essaying a secondary role to a kid, bulking up to play father of two grown-up women, etc) carry the spirit of an underdog, and their audacity needle for support, reserved for main characters.
Revelling In Unfamiliarity
This has always been the case. Khan has always been a superstar, staking one-third claim in the superstardom of Bollywood – the other two garnered by Shah Rukh and Salman. Yet, his is a distinct case. Over close to four decades, he has straddled art and commerce with the faith of a clairvoyant, taking gambles almost unusual for his stature. If the other Khans cemented popularity by playing similar roles, then he claimed glory by challenging familiarity. His characters are more dissimilar than similar; his range is vast, and the validation has been immense. Among the top 10 highest-grossing Hindi films worldwide ever, three are headlined by him.
Like most stars, Khan is attuned to the heft of this power. His filmography leans towards socially conscious cinema, and his bleeding heart informed decisions like co-founding Paani Foundation, a non-profit organisation dedicated to preventing drought in Maharashtra, and spreading awareness about malnutrition as part of UNICEF.
What Changed?
Like most stars, however, he has also been distant. Unlike his colleagues who stack multiple films in a year, Khan has forever paced it out and takes years to mount a film. His interviews have been sparse, providing little to no insight into his personal life or professional myths. His films have broken records, and he is branded as “perfectionist” – a moniker with more notorious than admirable undertones. He also took off from social media, yet he personally reaches out to artists whose work he likes. Younger actors, like Jaideep Ahlawat and Monika Panwar, share in disbelief how they received congratulatory messages from “AK”.
It was all there – enigma, mysticism and a dash of controversy: the three tenets of stardom. Then, 2025 happened, and something shifted.
In the last couple of months, the actor has been everywhere. Wearing basic round neck t-shirts and thick-rimmed glasses, Khan has appeared on podcasts and reality shows; surrounded by actors and hosts, he sat patiently and willingly. He played goofy games like a sport, fondly looked at old pictures and recounted when and where they were clicked. He conversed for hours without hesitation or annoyance. He wiped tears with the same t-shirts and spoke some more.
When Aamir Platformed Aamir
On one level, his pervasive presence made sense. Khan’s new film, Sitaare Zameen Par, released on June 20, and the interviews were part of the promotions. Directed by R.S. Prasanna, Sitaare is the remake of the 2018 Spanish film Champions and centres around a disgruntled basketball coach tasked with teaching the sport to a specially abled group. For a change, the film has neurodivergent performers, and since all are debutants, it was understandable for Khan to lead from the front.
And he did. Hopping from one conversation to another, he spoke with sincerity. The pace was relentless, and the energy infectious. No platform seemed small (he attended a Bengali dance show through video!), and no question was irrelevant. But here’s the thing: in none of these interviews, he expressly spoke about Sitaare Zameen Par. The subject, it seemed, was Aamir Khan, and the actor took great delight in platforming it.
Did we know that he started learning Marathi at the age of 44? Or that one of his dogs’ names is ‘Sundari’? That he didn’t speak to a co-star for years over a silly fight, or that he eloped and married his first wife? Did we know that he regrets being an absent parent and considered quitting acting after the failure of Laal Singh Chaddha (2022)? We did not, but Khan was ready to share, treating each interview with the intimacy akin to that of therapy sessions. Such eagerness was fitting for a newcomer, but on a star, it hung like an ill-fitted attire. The sight was rare and foolishly brave.
A ‘Rebranding’
It is also intriguing. What changed? One way of understanding the outpour is to put it in perspective. Khan, 60, is now more comfortable in his skin than he was before. The last two years saw him opening up, and the current candour could be a more intense version of this. Many recognise this as ‘rebranding’, a deliberate strategy. His past remarks about growing intolerance in India irked a section of the audience, and since then, his films have met with resistance on social media. This could be Khan placating.
Both of these might be true or not. It is impossible to tell, but since the person is Aamir Khan, deeper analysis comes with the territory. A third, and perhaps a more interesting way of looking at the tonal shift in his exchange would be to view them as marketing strategies.
‘Apna Apna Normal’
Khan is not new to promotions. Stories of him and his co-stars sticking posters of Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (1988) on auto rickshaws are widely known (there are videos on the Internet), and so are the other unusual tactics adopted by him. During Ghajini (2008), he famously gave buzz haircuts to fans in keeping with his character; for 3 Idiots (2009), he travelled to different parts of the country in disguise (landing up even at former Indian skipper Sourav Ganguly’s house) and dropped clues for his fans to locate him. For Talaash (2012), he reprised his cop role for an episode in the popular television serial CID.
Lately, Khan’s unrestricted access to his life might be incompatible with stardom but aligns with Sitaare, a film whose central messaging – “sabka apna apna normal” – instructs about the private nature of normalcy. When Khan eats vada pav at Dadar station, wells up at past failures, acknowledges being in touch with both his former partners, even though an arrangement like this continues to be rare, he is inherently putting ‘his normal’ on the table. When he is arriving at interviews and opening his heart to podcasters in a way his colleagues are not known to do, he is inhabiting this ‘normal’ and imprinting it with his name. This move of talking about himself while promoting a film about individualism is sheer marketing genius.
A Second Debut?
That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s selfish or dishonest. During interactions with the media, the actor was not just the subject of curiosity but also the object of scrutiny. When not given softballs, he was grilled about more uncomfortable queries: his political opinions, thoughts on so-called ‘love jihad’, stance on patriotism, and finding love at 60. Khan answered all, bearing a cross of his own making for the higher pursuit of the film. After all, choosing to be vulnerable comes with its own pitfalls.
What has emerged from this is an unvarnished portrait of the actor that carries only faint smudges of past iterations. This is an Aamir Khan we have hardly known before. He is open, fragile and even brittle. He is confessional and contrite, enthused to talk about himself as if, like the other actors in Sitaare, he too is making his debut. Maybe that was the point.
(Ishita Sengupta is an independent film critic and culture writer from India. Her writing is informed by gender and pop culture and has appeared in The Indian Express, Hyperallergic, New Lines Magazine, etc.)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
