‘Salman Khan: The Sultan of Bollywood’ by Mohar Basu leaves you asking: But who is Salman Khan?

If you’re a die-hard fan of Bollywood superstar Salman Khan and believe he can do no wrong, Mohar Basu’s new book, ‘Salman Khan: The Sultan of Bollywood’, is for you. Anything less, skip this one.

Five pages into the biography, Basu describes Khan’s birth like this: “It is said that Salman opened his eyes immediately after birth, unlike many infants who take days, even weeks to do so. While newborns keep their fists clenched and eyes shut, Salman seemed eager to see the world.” That passage immediately makes it clear what this book is about — Salman Khan the myth and not so much the man behind the myth.

Few stars have had a public life as versatile as Khan’s — towering highs and public lows, achievements and controversies, devotion and disdain — all for the world to see, giving his biography enormous potential.

Basu had the opportunity to unpack the complexities behind the man celebrated for his magnanimous generosity, fierce loyalty and larger-than-life on-screen presence, while also being criticised as immature, impulsive and even violent. Instead, she decides to smooth over the latter while highlighting the former. That is not to say that she avoids the controversies. Basu addresses everything from his infidelities, allegations of violence, his abusive relationship with Aishwarya Rai, even the infamous hit-and-run case.

Yet these incidents are consistently framed less as moral or personal failures and more as PR disasters. At one point, Basu uncritically quotes Khan’s father, screenwriter Salim Khan, “He did not know how to handle the media during his initial years. He is a normal boy who was not aware of his responsibilities as a superstar.” Little seems to be Khan’s fault, but rather circumstances and misfortunes are left to take accountability.

Basu seems aware of what this biography’s perspective is and perhaps, even its limitations. She recounts how while researching this project, she was warned by senior journalists to not gloss over Khan’s “missteps”, with one editor advising her, “That’d be a gross misrepresentation of this man-child, who lives in his father’s house till date and refuses to grow up. It’s not endearing — it’s a cautionary tale of what happens to a man who doesn’t grow up.”

However, she undermines this advice in the very next paragraph, quoting a fan who asked if this editor had ever saved someone’s life and segwaying into how Khan was the first bone-marrow donor in the country.

“I don’t want to reduce Salman’s philanthropy to a footnote,” Basu writes. “His fans won’t let me, and this is a book told from their perspective.”

To her credit, Basu does a compelling job writing about the parts of Khan’s life and career she seems to want to talk about — his softboy ‘Prem’ era, his philanthropy, his loyalty to his friends and family. If only it was grounded in the reality of the messier sides of his life, this book would’ve made for a far more interesting read.

Instead, we are left with a biography that forgoes complexities for fan service and can only serve two kinds of readers — the die-hard “Bhai” fans or someone who has never heard of Salman Khan at all.

— The reviewer is a freelance contributor