Irrfan Khan (1967-2020): An artist of understated elegance and grace.

By Kavita A Chhibber

I had a weird premonition the past two weeks. I kept asking Ajit to watch “Maqbool”. For Irrfan Khan.

I went to see “Angrezi Medium” on the first day, and Ajit left work to accompany me. For Irrfan Khan.

Corona hit soon after, and the film was yanked off theater screens, but I felt such a sense of accomplishment, such joy on seeing him on screen (first day, first show!) filling an otherwise mediocre movie with his aura and as always, with another impeccable performance.

It came as easily to him as breathing.

There was something about Irrfan, that X factor, that sets someone apart from the rest. He shone in bit roles, he shone in big roles… he just strode so far ahead of everyone else… with such understated elegance and grace.

But it must be how he made his co stars feel, that no one grudged him his brilliance. You didn’t hear of insecurity or roles being slashed, having co- actors dropped, or gamesmanship by stars who could indulge in it because they didn’t want another to shine.

It seems Irrfan was able to win people over with kindness and thoughtfulness off screen, just as he could on screen with his stellar performances.

They say the soul of a person is reflected through their work. I am grateful that his soul dazzled our eyes. His performances left us satiated and wanting more at the same time.

Just like my other all time favorite Heath Ledger, Irrfan Khan left too soon. I feel grateful I can mention their names together. They truly are so similar in their brilliance at their craft.

I heard such beautiful stories about Heath Ledger from director par excellence Shekhar Kapur.

And now I quietly capture written gems about Irrfan from those who walked parallel paths, and through his own words.

He was so candid about his struggles with cancer, so full of grace when acceptance came, and he began to truly appreciate the magic of moments we often take for granted. His wife Sutapa his strength, his fellow warrior.

I remember reading how close he was to his mother. She passed a few days ago at 95. He was only 53.

I visualize them both hand in hand joyfully beginning the next chapter in their soul’s journey.

As my favorite director Hrishikesh Mukherjee said through Anand: “Babu moshai, zindagi badi honi chahiye, lambi nahin.” (“Life should be grand and not merely long,” to paraphrase it loosely). And Irrfan’s was larger than life.

Whenever someone special leaves the planet, I return to this poem – “Death be not proud.”

Because special souls always live on, Irrfan is our Anand. He lives on as long as his work and fans remain on this planet. He will live on in our tears and our smiles when we sit and watch his films over and over again. I know I will. I loved his movies and love him through the characters he played, always respecting his characters and maintaining utmost integrity to his craft.

Irrfan loved music. I saw him reacting to some compositions with a cry that was as primitive as ancient civilizations, his heart expanding. His acting made me feel that way. And now he is one with the divine.

May his soul continue to expand. May the celestial music play for him eternally.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die“