Dear Shah Rukh Khan, I am a man. And I love you – unabashedly. Every time you come onscreen, my heart goes Tujhe Dekha Toh Yeh Jaana Sanam... . Every Valentines’ Day, as the world floods timelines with roses, proposals and ‘I love yous’, I sit down at the comfort of my home, with a bucket of popcorn in hand (or chicken soup – you know what it does to the Indian soul) and watch re-runs of your movies from Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa To Veer Zaara, and everything in between. There is a familiar image that resurfaces with almost ritualistic devotion - you, arms outstretched, eyes softened by longing, standing against a mustard field, a Swiss mountain, a railway platform, or sometimes simply in the rain. It does something to me, and it has been doing something to this
entire nation for years. It is not just a pose anymore, it is a cultural memory. For three decades, you have not merely acted in love stories; you have managed to give Indians a love language – You. When you arrived on our screens as Sunil in Kabhi Kabhi Naa, your heartbreak was ours and your hope too. Sunil didn’t get the girl, but he got our empathy. You showed us that heartbreak is not failure; it is growth.
When you became Raj in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, you redefined the Hindi film hero. You were mischievous but respectful, modern but rooted. And what is best, Raj did not elope with his Simran. Instead, he waited for her father’s approval. In a cinematic era that glorified machismo and rebellion, You made patience romantic. That train scene at the end still makes many of us teary-eyed. It was not just about catching a hand; it was about earning it. You know what? Valentine’s Day in India still owes a quiet debt to that moment.But to a romantic SRK fan, your romance was never one-note. When I first saw you in Dil To Pagal Hai, I saw in you the dreamer who believed somewhere, someone was made just for him. Rahul chased the idea of love as much as the woman herself. The film turned destiny into a love language. Suddenly, to me and many like me, soulmates weren’t an abstract philosophy; they were dance, music and a shared rhythm.And how can I forget Kuch Kuch Hota Hai? At the cusp of adulthood, you taught me, and a generation that friendship could be the purest foundation of love. “Pyaar dosti hai” became more than dialogue, suddenly it became a doctrine. College campuses across India internalised that love must begin in laughter, in shared secrets and in comfortable silences. Shah Rukh Khan, you made vulnerability look cool long before the word entered everyday conversation. And yet, it was not perfection, but rather your fragility which made you the King of Romance. In a day like Valentine’s, when love is marketed as success and coupling, it is worth remembering that you normalised rejection long before self-help culture did – courtesy Hum Tumhare Hain Sanam.And then there was Devdas – a deeply problematic man, drowning in ego and sorrow, yet aching with an operatic intensity. You made Devdas tragic. Love, in your hands, was not always healthy — but it was always passionate. Even your broken lovers loved fiercely.By the time Veer-Zaara arrived, your romance had matured. Veer wasn’t impulsive; he was enduring. In a world increasingly impatient with delayed gratification, Veer’s quiet sacrifice felt radical. And then, of course, Kal Ho Naa Ho. Aman’s smile masking his illness became one of your most devastating performances of yours. You made selfless love cinematic and you taught us that stepping away too is love - it was heartbreaking, yes, but it was also deeply generous. On Valentine’s Day, when love is often loud and performative, an evening with Aman reminds us that sometimes love is letting go.From the hyper-dramatic declarations of the 1990s to the layered maturity in later films, you grew with your audience, and we grew with you. In Dear Zindagi, your presence as Dr. Jehangir Khan redefined emotional intimacy. He was the man who taught me to listen. He didn’t rescue the heroine but guided her toward herself. And then you were gone.But we waited – a year, two years, four years. And when you returned to the big screen, something interesting happened. Even in high-octane narratives, like Pathaan and Jawan, the romantic gaze remained. That softness in your eyes, the teasing half-smile - they lingered. In fact, what you have given the Indian audiences (read me) all these years was not just fantasy. You gave them permission. You gave men like us permission to cry without losing masculinity, to yearn openly and chase love with poetry rather than brute force. Your arms-wide-open stance became shorthand for vulnerability. You surrendered, you did not dominate. You were okay with bowing your head, to those who mattered.And even beyond the films, there is also you - the man who speaks about love with wit and intelligence. You are the King of Romance who insists he is merely an actor.Ask me and I will tell you that Valentine’s Day in India is incomplete without a Shah Rukh Khan montage somewhere. The radio plays “Tujhe Dekha Toh Yeh Jaana Sanam.” Couples recreate your pose for Instagram. Memes circulate about impossible standards you have set for real-life men (not fair) and entire generations measure proposals against cinematic benchmarks you helped establish. But can I share a secret? Maybe, just maybe, what we truly fell in love with was not just Raj or Rahul or Veer - it was the idea that love could be epic yet tender. It was the thought that it could involve humour and heartbreak in equal measure. It was the truth that it could demand courage - sometimes the courage to wait, sometimes the courage to walk away - and You taught us that.In a world where romance in Bollywood feels increasingly fragmented, where it is shaped by dating apps, urban alienation and anxieties, your legacy feels like a blanket of comfort. Perhaps that is why, even after 30 years, you remain the reference point. Not just for romantic heroes, but for romance itself.So this Valentine’s Day, even as couples exchange gifts and singles roll their eyes at commercialised affection, I will be returning, instinctively, loyally - to you. I will drown myself in those mustard fields and train platforms, get swept away by the violins swelling in the background and let myself be serenaded onscreen by a man who made love feel cinematic but never entirely unattainable. Dear Shah Rukh Khan, thank you for teaching me that romance can be flawed, funny, tragic, stubborn and endlessly hopeful – all at the same time. Thank you for reminding me that loving deeply is strength. And thank you for your outstretched arms - still waiting, welcoming, iconic.With affection,An audience who learned how to love through Your movies
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