Goodbye Mr. Irrfan Khan
Irrfan (Khan), the actor par excellence, died last night and it hit me hard. It wasn’t exactly a sudden death. He was diagnosed with cancer two years back and had undergone treatment for the same. He wasn’t my favorite actor. He was undoubtedly one of the best ones and I loved watching him but there was no emotional attachment. And yet I am mourning his death. It is not the death of the actor or the person that I am mourning. I think I am mourning the death of a conviction, of complacency.
In the last few weeks, without any design, Aditya and I had watched a couple of his movies. He was fantastic, as usual, in all of them. We even watched Aditya’s favorite AIB video featuring Irrfan and spoke about his battle with cancer. I was somehow convinced he had made it. Not that he won’t ever die but that he had survived this ordeal. I was lulled into this false sense of security. And then in the next two days, he dies! I have been involuntarily crying on and off all morning because of this. Interestingly, the last time I cried for a death was when Irrfan’s character died in the movie ‘The Namesake’. Tabu was brilliant in that scene! (Can she ever be anything else?) But what brought out the tears (big, fat, ugly tears) was the awakening of the dormant, ever-existing-but-consciously-suppressed fear of losing one’s loved one. I FELT her loss in that scene. I have never fought the inevitability of death. I have never wished for my people to live forever. I accept and surrender to the finality of death. (On a personal level, I welcome it. I would be severely disappointed if there was life after death.) Having said that, I have never lost a near one. I have never truly experienced the permanent loss that only death can bring. I am a morbid person. So I have imagined my reactions to the loss of some people in my life and that exercise has led to anxiety, tears, numbness, guilt (and some serious judgment of one’s own sanity). But while I haven’t lost people, I have grieved for the absence or disintegration of certain relationships, loss of possibilities. I have experienced that deep loss that, while never fully going away, eventually stops hindering your living. After a long struggle, I have finally learnt to let go, to move on.
And so Mr. Irrfan Khan, while I still mourn for the loss of potential and possibilities by your unexpected demise and I sincerely try to feel the loss of your family and friends, I let you go. Rest in peace and we will do our best to move towards ours.
In the last few weeks, without any design, Aditya and I had watched a couple of his movies. He was fantastic, as usual, in all of them. We even watched Aditya’s favorite AIB video featuring Irrfan and spoke about his battle with cancer. I was somehow convinced he had made it. Not that he won’t ever die but that he had survived this ordeal. I was lulled into this false sense of security. And then in the next two days, he dies! I have been involuntarily crying on and off all morning because of this. Interestingly, the last time I cried for a death was when Irrfan’s character died in the movie ‘The Namesake’. Tabu was brilliant in that scene! (Can she ever be anything else?) But what brought out the tears (big, fat, ugly tears) was the awakening of the dormant, ever-existing-but-consciously-suppressed fear of losing one’s loved one. I FELT her loss in that scene. I have never fought the inevitability of death. I have never wished for my people to live forever. I accept and surrender to the finality of death. (On a personal level, I welcome it. I would be severely disappointed if there was life after death.) Having said that, I have never lost a near one. I have never truly experienced the permanent loss that only death can bring. I am a morbid person. So I have imagined my reactions to the loss of some people in my life and that exercise has led to anxiety, tears, numbness, guilt (and some serious judgment of one’s own sanity). But while I haven’t lost people, I have grieved for the absence or disintegration of certain relationships, loss of possibilities. I have experienced that deep loss that, while never fully going away, eventually stops hindering your living. After a long struggle, I have finally learnt to let go, to move on.
And so Mr. Irrfan Khan, while I still mourn for the loss of potential and possibilities by your unexpected demise and I sincerely try to feel the loss of your family and friends, I let you go. Rest in peace and we will do our best to move towards ours.
posted by Ila @ 9:27 AM
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