It’s been two years since Irrfan Khan passed away, but it feels like that happened yesterday. Ironically, it also feels like that never happened. Even in his absence, Irrfan evokes dilemma – just like he did with his roles.
Irrfan is no more, but we have his work through which he lives on and the accounts shared by people who were close to him. One of them is his son Babil.
On the death anniversary of his father, Babil shared a photo of his parents and wrote a beautiful note.
He talks of his perfume and the effect of his touch.
Dear baba, I’m trying to remember that perfume you wore, when we travelled north to watch lights dance in Norway. I remember exactly, the feeling of your smell, but I can’t remember the materialism of it. I remember the sensation on my fingertips when you spread my palms to tell my fortunes but it frightens me to forget your playful pinch on my nostrils.
He talks about not wanting to move on and the idea of being one with the one who created him.
You and I, singular and cosmic. Everything is, and yet it is not; You’re a perfect teardrop in my asylum. I was mindful and yet I forgot.
The pain of losing someone you love or look up to never goes away, it arguably never reduces as well. You merely get used to it and so it becomes bearable. It’s the same with Irrfan. Our hearts and well wishes are with his family and fans.
