In 2006, I met women working in different sectors across India as I studied women’s employment issues. Everywhere I went, from garment workers gossiping in the villages of UP to female cabin crew members taking cigarette breaks at airports, I met fellow SRK fans. For elite Indians, watching an SRK film is no big deal. But for most women, it’s a struggle to do something as simple as watch their favourite actor. The inequality in access to jobs, public space, cinema halls, technology and incomes manifests in the inequality to have fun and watch film stars. The first thing any woman I interviewed would say is how difficult it was to find money or media devices to watch films, or the freedom and safe spaces to do so, or how they would be made to feel guilty for spending on something that gave them pleasure. It was okay for men to enjoy a film alone or with friends, not for women. Our economy and society don’t really want women to have fun on their own terms. I also hope the stories convey the psychological function of the wide-open arms. Some posh Indians may cringe at those scenes or not like his films. But, for millions of women, that imagery offers deep comfort when they feel lonely, marginalized and unloved in their communities and relationships.

On gender gaps, we are stuck in an equilibrium of platitudes and lip service. Data in the book shows how women, particularly those working outside the home as well, are so tired and have barely any time for rest.

India ranks in the bottom five countries in the world when it comes to men helping in domestic chores. If the Uncles genuinely wanted to unleash women’s creative potential in the world, they would help in the kitchen and socialise their sons to do the same. They would also wholeheartedly support cash transfers and affirmative action for women.

Behind the mansplainer (like the Uncles I joke about in the book), there is an insecure man struggling to deal with a new generation of confident vocal women who expect much more autonomy and achievement than their mothers did. They expect partnership from men, not protection. Femininity has evolved, and masculinity is struggling to adapt and respond.

The gender crisis in India is not a problem of dry statistics; there is a huge psychological and emotional cost being paid by women. Loneliness is one manifestation of this cost. Economists call these ‘hidden taxes’ that families, lovers, and communities impose on women when they try to pursue professional ambitions. Each of the women in my book dares to deviate from the standard script of what a ‘good woman’ should be and do. Each pays a heavy price. One woman faces violence for owning a mobile; another is abandoned by her husband as she tries to create an independent livelihood; all elite English-speaking women in the book complained about men being unable to love women who were as successful as them. Our society does not like or love defiant women. So, I do not think SRK is responsible. But his interviews, songs and scenes offer smiles and relief as these women deal with their loneliness.

India is in the bottom five countries of the world when it comes to women’s economic freedoms and participation. Seven out of ten women in their 30s are engaged exclusively in unpaid housework. The female gaze towards the economy would understand that the economy does not only reside in our factories and fields, but also the home. As many as 64% of women in manufacturing work from home. Also, we would have no workers without the cooking and caring women do.

No, but I have tried for an autograph at a media event. It was rather embarrassing, and I describe the episode in the book.

SRK is the next SRK! With the internet and increased fragmentation of our media landscape, the space for pan-national superstars is smaller. But amongst younger Gen Z women, I notice a deep fascination for female actors in Hindi cinema.