Childhood days with Doordarshan. Sundays were
particularly hectic and I used to dread tests on Mondays. The most awaited show
during those days were “Chandrakantha”. That serial brought in a galaxy of artists
and with it I first met Badrinath alias Somnath alias the very talented “Irrfan
Khan” - an unassuming, tall guy, with penetrating big eyes.
For a young girl who was more interested in the so-called
“parallel” cinema, actors like Irrfan, were heroes. My tryst with cinema isn’t either
frequent or religious. So, I will not attempt in chronicling, Irrfan’s film journey.
This is the journey, a young ordinary girl had with a great actor, whose movies
gave her an opportunity for soul searching. So, years later when the same young
girl, now a lady, picked up the CD of “The Warrior”, the bill boy in the store couldn’t
hide his quizzing look, as though asking “are you serious?”. Yes I was serious
about good movies and Irrfan Khan stood for what was good and challenging that
movies could offer.
To this day, I believe, The Warrior is Irrfan’s, the
best performance. The anguish of a man who knows that remorse is not enough to
wash off his sins this lifetime and yet pursuing salvation which he knows will
not be his – I fail to imagine another man in his place to do justice to such a
myriad complex character. That’s why Irrfan connected so deeply with ordinary people
like me.
An ordinary man is not ordinary when it comes to
experiencing conflicting emotions. He struggles between the spectrums of
happiness, grief, fear and anger, sometimes all at once. Irrfan knew what it
means to be conflicted and he never shied away from showing it on screen. In Maqbool
he was the man torn between love and ambition. Subsequently when he conquers
both, guilt engulfed – a brilliant portrayal of raw vulnerabilities. In Life of
Pi he presented a story within a story and compelled with his smile and eyes for
us to accept what we felt was the lesser evil. In Saat Khoon Maaf he was the
sadistic husband whose poetry and cruelty rhymed perfectly. Irrfan didn’t just
essay a role. When he was on screen, he stirred emotions that unsettled his
audience.
The world started shrinking, with international cinema
featuring more and more of Indian actors. For the fan in me, it was absolute
jubilation watching Irrfan don roles in movies like Slumdog Millionaire,
Namesake or Jurrassic Park. Somewhere he redefined the very word “cinema”. Otherwise,
how can one explain Lunchbox – the story for a retirement bound lonely man ruffling
the mind of a young homemaker through mere words to live again. How can one
explain Piku – a carefree taxi owner who has a simple straight solution while
not forgetting his sarcasm. Or for that matter, how can one explain Paan Singh
Tomar, that anguished Olympian turned dacoit. Just when I thought his content-oriented
performance is skyrocketing, Irrfan does a classic mic drop act,
featuring in video spoof of Bollywood party songs with the now defunct AIB. I can’t
remember the last time I laughed so hard over a song. Even glossy comedy gets a
classy makeover when Irrfan does it with his straight and down to earth act. That’s
what legends are made of.
And today, that legend is gone. He is gone after a battle.
I wept my heart out. I wept for a man I never met in person, but met a million
times in all those numerous frames. I grew up watching Irrfan fire up the
screen with characters that were conflicted yet content, hurt yet happy, agonized
yet fully alive.
Irrfan, with those curious eyes and disarming smile,
you gave this ordinary woman more than just good cinema. You gave her stories
to ponder over, acts to cherish and a soothing smile that calms the soul. Heavens
are lucky, for they have the Warrior performer joining the league.
