Yesterday was Shah Rukh Khan’s birthday. A couple of days before that, he hosted an 'Ask SRK' session on Twitter. One user, clearly overflowing with confidence (and perhaps mild delusion), told him, “I’m better looking than you, but I’m a nobody. How come you’re so successful?” SRK could’ve ignored it. But he didn’t. He replied in peak SRK fashion, a polite smile wearing the mask of a punchline, hinting that the man’s problem wasn’t his face, but possibly his brain.
I’ve seen this pattern often. People seem to have a strange dislike for the successful.
Amitabh Bachchan, for instance, gets more than his fair share of criticism. Many say he should retire. “He’s too old,” they say. “He shouldn’t be chasing money at his age.” Some even complain that Bachchan endorses too many brands, from hair oil to women’s jewellery. But there’s another way to see it. Being active past eighty is, in itself, admirable. Still commanding the attention of millions, earning crores per day, and drawing crowds outside your house every Sunday, that’s not greed, that’s legacy. Even now, filmmakers compete for his dates, and actors still consider it an honour to share a frame with him. Why would anyone give that up to stay home and fade into oblivion?
At the root of this criticism lies a general resentment of success. The most successful actors earn more in a day than most people do in a lifetime, and that fact alone offends many. I see life as part destiny and part personal choice. It’s hard to tell which part is which until you look back.
When Shah Rukh came to Mumbai, he had little, just some TV fame from the 'Fauji' and 'Circus' days, when television paid barely anything and most TV actors travelled by local train. He took his chances in an industry that has never been kind to outsiders. Luck played its part, yes, but so did relentless effort. He had a dream run until about a decade ago, when his films stopped doing well. Then came a lull, and then the storm. 'Pathaan' and 'Jawan' brought him roaring back, just as I’d predicted astrologically almost a year before, on Twitter.
But strip away the stardom, and you still have a rare combination, charm, wit, charisma, intelligence, a voracious reader, and an instinctive marketer. How many people like that do you actually know? He’s a risk-taker, even a gambler at heart and a visionary. He is believed to have bought his mansion 'Mannat' largely on advances and debt, despite knowing the challenges that come with buying a heritage property. He bought an IPL team when few had conviction in the format. Is it really so surprising that he succeeded? Someone with that drive and personality would’ve made it big in any field. If Shah Rukh Khan were a poultry farmer, he’d probably be selling half the chicken in the country.
To return to Amitabh Bachchan, Gen Z probably doesn’t know much about him beyond 'Kaun Banega Crorepati', his endless stream of ads, and the occasional film appearance. They don’t really watch TV reruns of 'Deewar' or 'Zanjeer', so for many of them, the legend is more myth than memory. Some even wonder what all the fuss is about. But Amitabh Bachchan at his peak was mostly a one-horse race. Most of his contemporaries were simply running in his shadow. It wasn’t like the neck-and-neck rivalry between the Khans in the 1990s. When he was injured on the sets of 'Coolie' (1983), the entire nation held its breath. Prayer meetings were organized across India. A fan even walked backwards from Pune to Mumbai to please the gods.
When he entered politics, he was elected to Parliament with one of the highest margins in Indian history. At one point, four of his films were running simultaneously in theatres across the country, each celebrating silver or golden jubilees. Cinemas would go “house full” for the 'entire week', a concept now almost extinct, in the era of multiplexes. He was the first Indian actor to be offered Rs 1 crore, by K. C. Bokadia, in the late 1980s. And though he refused to do ads for most of his career, when he finally did one for BPL in the mid-1990s, he was paid Rs 10 crore, almost thirty years ago! That’s why, despite their own towering fame, even today Aamir Khan and Shah Rukh Khan seem to defer to him with a certain reverence. He’s known to arrive on set before anyone else, making punctuality look like a competitive sport. With that mix of genius talent, relentless discipline, and fire in the belly, plus a bit of destiny’s kindness, how could he not have made it big?
There’s destiny, yes, but also resilience. Bachchan’s story hasn’t been smooth sailing. There were the missteps in politics, the near-bankruptcy in business, the health scares that would’ve flattened lesser men. Yet, he endures. Reinvents. Rises again. To resent the success of someone like that is absurd. Especially when most critics aren’t actors, aren’t competing with him, and don’t exactly wake up every morning burning with ambition.
Perhaps the resentment toward successful actors also comes from the belief that acting is “easy.” It isn’t, not when you consider the odds, the pressures, and the staggering rate of failure.
Outside show business, the same resentment often targets successful entrepreneurs. Many assume they’ve gamed the system or evaded taxes, while the salaried class gets paid only after every rupee of tax is deducted. The truth is, India is one of the toughest places to be an entrepreneur. Even before 2025 has ended, 11,223 startups have already shut down, up 30 per cent from last year. Starting a business takes courage, energy, persistence, patience, the right team, and a certain “foolish” faith that you’ll beat the odds, not to mention capital. Everything costs money. Most parents would rather their children choose the “safe” route of education and employment. Banks won’t lend. Government grants are too small. Angel investors are swamped with pitches. Despite policy efforts, red tape persists. It’s a hard road. So when an entrepreneur beats the odds and succeeds, they don’t just deserve applause, they’ve earned every bit of it.
Every era has had its “villains of success.” From industrialists like Dhirubhai Ambani to tech founders like Elon Musk, history shows a pattern. The underdog is adored until he wins. The moment he succeeds, admiration turns to suspicion. The world loves a struggler more than it loves a winner. Public adoration is fickle. The same media that once worshipped you will later question why you’re still around. Success is rarely forgiven, it has to keep proving itself every Friday. People envy the rewards of success, but not the toll it takes. The sleepless nights, the scrutiny, the fear of losing it all, none of that makes it to the highlight reel. Mockery is cheaper than self-reflection. It’s easier to say, “He got lucky,” than to admit, “Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.”
In the age of social media, success isn’t about growth, it’s about optics. Many chase visibility instead of value, applause instead of mastery. It’s no wonder envy is thriving, everyone’s scoreboard is public. For every troll tearing down the successful, there are a hundred silent admirers who draw inspiration quietly. The problem is, the envious are louder. Part of the resentment also comes from projection. People who feel stuck often transfer their frustration onto those who move ahead. It’s not the achiever they dislike, it’s the mirror they hold up.
Culturally too, India’s relationship with ambition is complicated. Earlier generations were almost defensive about being ambitious or making money, and unbridled ambition was looked down upon as vulgar. We glorified modesty and self-sacrifice, and sometimes treated success as a moral compromise. We told our children not to “show off,” even when they’d genuinely earned something. It’s little wonder that we admire billionaires abroad but find reasons to pull down our own.
There seems to be a strange reflex built into human nature, the tendency to resent success. The moment someone rises above the rest, the world suddenly develops an allergy. People start whispering that it’s luck, connections, or “timing.” They dismiss what they can’t replicate. But the more constructive response would be curiosity, not contempt. Instead of resenting successful people, it’s far wiser to study them, to see what makes them tick, and selectively emulate what works. You don’t have to like everything about them, but you can certainly learn from their drive, focus, and persistence.
Success always leaves clues. Some are external, habits, routines, choices, and some are internal, the way they think, decide, and recover from failure. People who achieve greatness in any field usually have a long list of private defeats behind the public victories. The applause drowns the story of how often they stumbled before the world started clapping. That’s where astrology, used intelligently, can offer surprising clarity. Sometimes the problem isn’t lack of effort but mismatch, between one’s chart and one’s chosen path. Everyone has strengths written into their natal chart, certain planetary combinations that favour specific careers, industries, or forms of expression. Understanding that alignment can save years of frustration.
Many people who fail in one domain later find remarkable success in another. They didn’t suddenly get “lucky.” They simply discovered the field that resonated with their chart and temperament. Amitabh Bachchan himself is a perfect example. He’s been a once-in-a-generation phenomenon in show business, a field perfectly attuned to his charisma, voice, and presence. But when he stepped into politics and business, his chart didn’t support those ventures. Despite his effort, they didn’t yield the same magic. It’s not failure, it’s misalignment. Even the most challenging birth chart holds its phases of opportunity. Recognising them can turn timing into an ally instead of an enemy. Astrology can help identify where that alignment lies. It doesn’t mean one sits back and waits for destiny to unfold, it means working smarter, in sync with one’s own design. That’s often what separates a satisfying life from a life spent running uphill.
There’s also the psychological angle. Envy is easy, admiration takes humility. It’s easier to scroll, criticise, and shrug off someone’s success as “luck” than to reflect on one’s own potential. But every person you envy can teach you something, about persistence, focus, and reinvention. Shah Rukh Khan didn’t stop when his films flopped. Amitabh Bachchan didn’t retire when he nearly went bankrupt. They adapted, learned, and came back stronger. That’s not privilege. That’s character.
Not all success is loud. Some of the most remarkable achievements belong to people you’ve never heard of, small business owners, teachers, researchers, artists, who quietly build, teach, and create without applause. Interestingly, such people rarely attract resentment, proving that visibility, not success itself, is what triggers envy.
The truth is, very few people fail because they’re not “destined” for success. Most fail because they never fully commit to anything long enough to test their real potential. Some quit when it gets uncomfortable. Others wait for the “perfect time.” But often, people spend their entire lives doing something that isn’t in harmony with their birth chart, chasing goals that don’t align with their innate wiring. A small pivot, made with awareness, can completely change the trajectory. Once you start moving in sync with your chart, things that once felt like a struggle begin to flow.
And while it’s wise to study the successful, it’s just as wise to observe everyone else. Every person, even those who falter, has something to teach, what to do, what not to repeat, or what never to become. Life becomes richer when you realise that lessons come from all directions, not just from the top. Resenting success changes nothing. Learning from it can change everything because life becomes much more interesting when you stop competing with others and start collaborating with your own potential. You rise not by resenting greatness, but by recognising your own.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. |
