Aamir Khan, born in Mumbai on March 14, 1965, is basically Bollywood royalty at this point. Folks call him "Mr. Perfectionist," and honestly, the guy’s earned it. He’s not just a big deal in India—he’s cracked the code in China too. Whether he’s putting himself through wild body transformations or switching up genres like it’s nothing, Aamir’s always in the headlines. His filmography reads like a greatest hits playlist: Lagaan, Fanaa, Taare Zameen Par, Ghajini, 3 Idiots, Talaash, Dhoom 3, PK, Dangal, Secret Superstar—the list just keeps going. Aamir’s movies don’t just rake in cash; they leave a mark. Lagaan opened the gates for Indian cinema in China, and then 3 Idiots pretty much became a cultural phenomenon over there. He’s got a knack for mixing it up, too—jumping from intense drama to cult comedies like Andaz Apna Apna and Dil Chahta Hai with zero effort. Dude even rocked the TV world with Satyamev Jayate, pulling in a more “serious” crowd. And it’s not like he arrived out of nowhere. Little Aamir first popped up as a kid in Yaadon Ki Baaraat back in the ‘70s. Over the years, he’s dabbled in everything—acting, producing, directing. Taare Zameen Par? He directed that, and it crushed it both critically and commercially. He’s also known for taking one project at a time, laser-focused, which was kinda rare in Bollywood. Oh, and he’s not really into awards shows—he skips out on those, does his own thing. Bollywood’s never been the same since he showed up.
Wild, right? This guy actually said “nah, I’m good” to Madame Tussaud’s people when they wanted to make a wax figure of him. Most folks would probably jump at the chance to get their mug preserved next to movie legends and pop stars, but not him. He just shrugged it off—didn’t want to be stuck as a waxy version of himself for eternity, I guess. There’s almost something rebellious about turning down that weird kind of immortality. I mean, how many celebs do you know who’ve refused? It’s like, you’ve really made it big when someone wants to carve you out of wax and put you on display for tourists, but he was having none of it. Maybe he thought it was creepy—honestly, those statues are sometimes nightmare fuel. Anyway, it’s a flex. Not everyone’s interested in being frozen in time for people to gawk at, and honestly, respect for that move.
Every single film I work on, honestly, it’s like a piece of me goes into it. Mela bombing? Yeah, that stung way more than I’d care to admit. It’s not just about box office numbers or critics, you know—the real gut punch comes from seeing your work not get the shot it deserves. When a movie doesn’t even get to spread its wings, it’s rough. There’s all this effort, late nights, laughter, stress, and then… poof, it’s like nobody saw it. I want my films out there on the big screen, with people actually talking about them, arguing over them, loving or hating them, but at least reacting. That’s the whole point. Anything less feels like a missed chance—and trust me, I don’t get comfortable with that feeling. Never have, probably never will.
March 14, 1965
5′ 4½″ (1.64 m)
Konidela Ram Charan
Bombay, Maharashtra, India
Yes, Junaid Khan
Zeenat Hussain and Surekha
60 years old