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This is a rare vintage poster for Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's 1994 concert at London's most iconic venue, the Royal Albert Hall. The audience was slowly drawn in, first through the plush harmonium, beautifully played by Khan's brother, and then constant murmur of tabla and the hand claps of the group's chorus. The night started out with one of Khan's signature songs: "Allahoo" [God Is], which is a 'hamd,' or praise song, and the traditional way of opening a qawwali performance. He ended the concert with the iconic song, "Mast Qalandar." Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was just 48 when he died in August 1997. His music could never be constrained by borders, or stashed away in a drawer. His death sparked a global state of mourning. **(Available now as print)**

One night, while doom-scrolling, I stumbled across a recent interview with Shah Rukh Khan. Charming as ever, he delivered yet another account of his struggles, ad nauseam: how hard work can overcome every disadvantage, whether social or economic. I have watched some version of this interview a hundred times over the past twenty-five years. I could have recited it along with him. However, this time, I felt a dissonance. It went beyond the tired familiarity of Khan, the classic Delhi middle-class boy turned global icon, selling his rags-to-riches story yet again. It was a growing discomfort with what his myth represents in today’s India, and how inextricably that myth is tied to the hopes and illusions of the Indian middle class.

How Shah Rukh Khan Became the Face of India’s Lost Future

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