Actor Irrfan succumbed to his illness in the summer of 2020 on April 29. Today, on the actor’s birth anniversary, his friends, family and close associates from the film industry are reminiscing the lovely times and memories shared with one of Indian cinema’s finest actors. Tigmanshu Dhulia, who had a special bond with the actor and had directed him in films like Haasil (2003) and Paan Singh Tomar (2012), talking to BT on an emotional note, says, “Both Irrfan and I don’t remember birthdays easily. Naa usko yaad rehta tha na mujhe. I don’t know how I feel and how I should feel right now. It’s weird. Aaj Irrfan ka birthday hai and he is not here. It feels strange that I’ll never be able to wish him again. There is a void that I realise will now be a part of our lives for as long as we live. The work we did together continues to have a life of its own. I feel so happy that we worked together on some of his most memorable works. It’s like a huge benchmark that he created and I measure everyone’s performance with that. I can never say goodbye to Irrfan.”

Irrfan and Tigmanshu met at the National School of Drama (NSD), where the actor was Tigmanshu’s senior. “I knew a boy studying at NSD and he had called me in to see a play, Fujiyama. That’s the first time I saw Irrfan and Sutapa Sikdar in action and was impressed with all that I saw. Since there weren’t too many students in the institution at that time, I had a chance to acquaint myself with Irrfan, who was a shy and introverted guy. He lived in one of the smallest rooms in one of those corners of the hostel building and wouldn’t share it with anyone. Sutapa was his girlfriend then. She was into direction and he was into acting. When I saw them display their craft, I was blown away with what I saw. Towards the end of his term in the institution, we had started bonding over our love for certain actors, cinema and storytellers,” recalls the filmmaker.

Tigmanshu and Irrfan worked together for the first time on a TV show called Hum Bambai Nahi Jayenge. After assisting Shekhar Kapur, Tigmanshu found himself in the director’s chair for this show. “A channel was being launched in 1993. This show was a collaboration, which included Irrfan, Saurabh Shukla and Manoj Bajpayee among others. That was the first time I directed Irrfan. He played a drama school teacher and the show was loosely based on the life we had seen at the NSD,” recalls the filmmaker, whose last directorial with Irrfan was Saheb Biwi Aur Gangster Returns (2013). “Irrfan and I were talking about doing something together but he had a string of commitments to fulfil. By the time those were completed, Irrfan was diagnosed with the ailment. I guess what we had spoken about will stay deep inside my heart for as long as I breathe,” says Tigmanshu.

Directors feel a film on a true story shouldn’t over-dramatise real incidents
Juhi Chakraborty (HINDUSTAN TIMES; August 18, 2020)

The recently released web-only film Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl courted controversy after the Indian Air Force (IAF) objected to the portrayal of its work culture in it. They said that in a bid to glorify the screen character of ex-Flight Lt Gunjan Saxena, the film “presented some situations that are misleading and portray an inappropriate work culture, especially against women in the IAF”. Another recent project, Shakuntala Devi, too drew criticism about how the over-the-top drama overshadowed the brilliance of the legendary mathematician.

Thus arises the question that when it comes to real-life stories and biopics, how much creative liberty should a director or writer take?

Tigmanshu Dhulia, who helmed the biopic Paan Singh Tomar (2012), says it’s subjective, adding it should be fine as long as one is not deviating or changing history. “If a film is on a person or an event which not many know of, then I could take a lot of liberties because nobody knows about that person. But fictional elements should be minimal. You may fictionalise a private moment, but beyond that one should not, as then it becomes unethical,” he says.

Lamenting how Bollywood films, which claim to be on real life, lack research, director Ananth Mahadevan says many get carried away. “I took the pain to do so much research when I made films such as Gour Hari Dastaan (2015) and Mee Sindhutai Sapkal (2010). Bollywood directors somehow feel it is okay and well within their rights to romanticise the subjects they pick up, whether it is a sportsperson or an Air Force pilot or mathematician,” he says, adding, “They feel it’s alright to go over-the-top and over-dramatise situations. They don’t care if something is authentic, they think creative liberties can be stretched.”

No stranger to dealing with real-life stories, the man behind films such as Shahid (2013), Aligarh (2015) and Omerta (2018), Hansal Mehta says, “When you make a true life story it is about the intent of the filmmaker. It should be to actually tell a story and to let the world know of the person in a better way.”

Filmmaker Ali Abbas Zafar says there are two types of films, one inspired by real stories which can be fully fictionalised, and others completely based on reality which go on to become biopics. “I think as a filmmaker what is important is to have that clarity of thought. If you dabble in something in hardcore reality, I think you need to be 100% authentic to the story. If you are making something loosely based [on real life] then, as a writer and director, you can take the liberty of making a film which has combination of fact and fiction,” he says.

Echoing the sentiment, director Vivek Agnihotri says while there is no written rule about how much is too much when it comes to creative liberty, there is some restraint one should show while recreating a real-life story. “One can take leeway as long as it does not tamper with the original story. A bit of tweaking is fine with dialogue and scenes, but it should be in tune with reality,” he shares.

Film critic Raja Sen pays tribute to the actor who strove for the precise pitch and could make every gesture appear special
Raja Sen (MUMBAI MIRROR; May 3, 2020)

Cocaine. It was the first thing I spoke to Irrfan Khan about. It was 2006, on the sets of Life In A Metro. 20-something and childishly eager, I asked whether he’d done cocaine in order to play an addicted stockbroker in his last, Yun Hota Toh Kya Hota? “Yeah,” he nodded, “I had to.” The recorder was on. Irrfan saw my face and laughed. “See, as an actor you have to understand what it does. To your behaviour, movements. It was new to me toh… examine karna pada.” He didn’t enjoy it (“kaafi hectic hai”) and I wondered why he’d do that for a middling film. “Because it is new! Ek nayi cheez… Why else do we act, yaar? Plus, the film is by Naseeruddin Shah. Who knows what he will notice? What he will expect?” I remember the way he tapped his nose. “Isiliye… homework.”

The way he tapped his nose. Those words make you picture him, visualise how he must have done it, that ephemeral Irrfan-ness rendering the moment impossible to forget or mimic. Where do we begin to talk about an actor who made every gesture special? Perhaps one hails the movements themselves: the way Irrfan sculpted the silent beats, the way he reacted to actors around him when they spoke, the way he let his eyes do the heaviest lifting. Good actors deliver loaded dialogue in ways that make the words sing — Irrfan made us read between the lines.

In The Lunchbox, he unwraps food from a brown paper bag and picks up a novel as he eats. The care with which he smoothens the dog-eared page and straightens his spectacles before he starts shows how ritualistically the widower has done this for years. In Slumdog Millionaire, he supervises the electrocution of the young hero, but finds an instant to look away, discreetly and distastefully. In The Darjeeling Limited, as a villager whose young son’s body is brought to him, his first alarmed act is to lift the entire body, hoisting the boy’s chest to his ear like an errant pocketwatch, to see if he still beats. In Paan Singh Tomar, he collapses after breasting the tape in an early race, taking a telltale pause before he falls, as if looking to see if it’s okay to let go, okay for the runner to finally fall.

Irrfan is a poem. A poem he himself read out loud.

He strived for the precise pitch, the sur, the mot juste. There was always authenticity to be plumbed and sought, and he hungered both to learn and unlearn. He cultivated screen presence to deliver blockbuster punchlines, then discarded it to play an unassuming Bengali man. His was not a linear life, looping from early art cinema to popular television, from independent English films to Hindi masala to global art house success, and then, finally and delightfully, to a confluence of both, commercial and radical cinema hand in hand. The actor of his generation? That feels too prosaic for a man whose performances crept up on us, touching us in ways films or viewers could scarcely predict.

That Irrfan face. Those electric eyes, that slack jaw, the mouth ever ajar, especially in the earlier films, as if unsaid sentences live on the tip of his tongue. His words, deep and lyrical lines delivered with a languor that suggested his mind lay in a hammock. In the real world, he had the swagger of a cowboy, shoulders preceding footsteps, but on screen it was about those he played — the complicated, tentative, un-spotless men — and he gave up his gait for theirs.

In 2016, sitting at his new apartment and discussing the TV series Fargo, I asked him about winning an Oscar — a hypothesis that given his trajectory I considered an eventuality. “That is an award that can change everything,” he had said, briefly chewing on the idea. “It can open up every choice for an actor.” Ah, Irrfan… so many marks left unmade.

Talking to him was always a rush. The self-awareness, the philosophical digressions, the boundless curiosity — how he deconstructed a character, how keenly he engaged with criticism. Fingers perpetually busied with rolling paper, he spoke unhurriedly, with many an ellipsis, plucking the right phrase out of thin air. The mot juste. Even without cameras, there was economy and precision.

Think of Piku. Where he, as the owner of a transport firm, is stung as he sits in the driver’s seat with hired help in the front, while the clients sit behind. He looks pointedly at Deepika Padukone in the rearview mirror. It is a slippery moment; what, after all, is wrong with the boy sitting up front? Irrfan doesn’t glare, instead compels her by holding her gaze. Fury would make his character appear classist, but this quiet, unyielding indignation makes it evident Irrfan is feeling disrespected. He doesn’t start the car till he gets his way. Here, his way is to persuade the audience and win the benefit of their doubt.

That is a masterclass — and that doesn’t just mean something for actors to learn from. Great performers offer up mirrors to lives like ours so we can steal from their characters, from perspectives to mannerisms, from reactions to epiphanies. Irrfan Khan, conqueror of the unknown, gave us all so much to observe, so much to understand. His performances, his fluidity, his tenderness, his existential silences. Thank you for the movies, Irrfan. Thank you for waging a war against the obvious. We’ll watch you forever. We’ll learn, forever. Thank you for the… homework.

Radhika Madan on working with the actor in Homi Adajania’s next and how she discovered veganism while prepping for her part
Avinash Lohana (MUMBAI MIRROR; March 6, 2020)

After making her Bollywood debut with Vishal Bhardwaj’s Pataakha in 2018, Radhika Madan was seen in Vasan Bala’s action-comedy Mard Ko Dard Nahin Hota. Now, she is gearing up for her third outing, Angrezi Medium, with Irrfan Khan, Kareena Kapoor and Dimple Kapadia.

In the film, Radhika plays a teenager who aspires to go abroad for higher studies. “Both Tarika and I are big-time dreamers. I wanted to go to Broadway to learn dance but acting happened and the plan took a back seat,” she informs, quick to point out that the common ground between them ends there.

The actress goes on to share that she discovered veganism while trying to get into the skin of her character. “Food is an important tool for our mindset. We hear it all the time but for the first time, I experienced that unadulterated food leads to an unadulterated mindset. I am a vegan now. The entire prep was an adventurous journey,” she says.

Working with Irrfan, who plays her father in the Homi Adajania directorial, was another high point for Radhika. “His performances in Maqbool and Paan Singh Tomar are my favourites. We met a couple of times for readings before shooting began. The first thing I said to him was, ‘Hello pappa’. He is extremely sweet, warm and endearing,” smiles Radhika.

The 24-year-old actress goes on to inform that the film’s schedule was planned keeping Irrfan’s health in mind. “He and Homi had been co-ordinating before work on the film started. On the set, Irrfan sir gave his 200 per cent. There was an amazing energy around because of him,” she reminisces, equally kicked about being on the cover of Bhardwaj’s book on her debut film, which was directed by the filmmaker-author and co-starred Sanya Malhotra. “It was humbling to see my face on the book. It details the entire process of making the film,” she informs.

While she would like to collaborate with VB again, Radhika reveals that she is constantly in touch with him. “I love him, and he loves me. I make it a point to meet him and Vasan (Bala, Mard Ko Dard Nahin Hota director) sir every time I am starting work on a new project. Their blessings are important to me; both are my mentors.”

Irrfan Khan reveals that his illness has brought the family even closer, explains how his upcoming release is different from Hindi Medium and flashbacks to unforgettable moments from his films
Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; March 3, 2020)

In all these years, one never connected with Irrfan Khan with questions in mind. The conversations would be freewheeling; about life, living, learning, evolving, and along the way, we spoke about films, too.

But after an illness took him out of the country for treatment, one had to think of questions to touch base with him, and it felt like a challenge. So, I did the next best thing, I wrote him a letter, weaving some queries in and he responded to them, agreeing that interviews are about conversations. But, conveying a smile through an emoji, observed that “from where I stand every challenge challenges our creativity”.

After a year-and-a-half, he has a film, Angrezi Medium, coming up for release, produced by his Hindi Medium filmmaker, Dinesh Vijan. And while he hopes that everyone enjoys it, Irrfan is anticipating some “healthy criticism” as well. The film revolves around a father-daughter relationship, with the latter aspiring to go abroad for higher studies. Does Irrfan think it is important to give our children an education abroad, with reference to the film and his own sons, Babil and Ayan, in particular? One could picture him sitting across, frowning in concentration, as he mused, “Is it important? No. Is it crucial? No. It’s a very subjective thing… It depends on where your child’s passion lies. But it’s not imperative, for sure.”

He shared that his older son wanted to major in films and had got into the London (Film) School without his help. “Since it is Asif Kapadia’s (his The Warrior director) alma mater, I thought it will do Babil good. But if one is going (to study abroad) just because it’s cool, I think it’s a waste of time,” Irrfan pointed out with the practicality one has come to associate with him, saying his son will definitely like to come back. “He misses India very much. He is slogging hard and he is not a celebrity child in the institute abroad, which works for me,” he added.

It’s been over two years since we met, the last interaction being just before Hindi Medium and I wondered if he remembered ‘Roshomilla’, which is how he has always addressed me. “I cannot forget Roshomilla, but chances are I will call you rosogolla by mistake again because that’s what my Bengali wife (Sutapa Sikdar) is feeding me. Since I am unwell, whenever I have a sweet craving, she insists it’s healthy since rosogollas are made of chhena (ricotta cheese) and not mawa (dry milk),” he wrote back, and I could hear him guffaw across the miles separating us from him.

On the subject of Hindi Medium, he stated that the film had been accepted well as it struck a chord with the audience, more so with parents, some of whose dreams had died because they could not put their kids into their dream schools. “Our country does not pay for our education, it’s not free, so education from a good school is like a medal for most middle-class Indians and the admission process is traumatic,” Irrfan pointed out.

In the film, his Raj Batra, a nouveauriche boutique owner desperate to get his six-year-old daughter Pia into the school of his wife’s choice, takes the extreme step of moving with his family to a poorer neighbourhood to avail of the Right to Education (RTE) quota for the underprivileged. In response to my query of how much like Batra he is, Irrfan shared that for him personally, it doesn’t matter if someone is from Welhams or Stephens. “I sent my kids to an alternative school with hardly any facilities in the formative years. I have met hundreds of successful children from government schools, and very mediocre, highly nonstimulated children from private schools. So, essentially, it’s about the individual, the child. If someone has to bloom, they will,”

Irrfan asserted, going on to emphasise that as a person he would never do what Raj did in Hindi Medium. “But then, I am not him and he is not me. That’s the fun in acting! How to find the essence even if you are not the same. I am not as street-smart as the character, but I know people like him exist, so, I could relate to him.”

He went on to explain the process of getting into character, saying it’s enjoyable to be somebody who shares some of your thoughts and vice versa. “The character evolves from its relatability to the actor. Then, boom, it’s there, for the actor to follow,” he stated, adding that he is also not an extrovert, like Angrezi Medium’s Champak Bansal. “But I am a father and with that small essence, I went ahead. The character happened and was played by Irrfan.”

There are other ways in which the two films are different even though both take the discussion on education forward in a light-hearted way. “I had a wife (Saba Qamar) in Hindi Medium, so we were parents to our daughter Pia (Dishita Sehgal) while in Angrezi Medium I am a single parent, so it’s a bigger responsibility. And it’s special because one doesn’t want to f*** up in bringing up their child… You’re always scared of being judged by the departed partner. The child is not only your child, but also the memory of your wife. You want the best for your child, but at the same time, you don’t want to let her go away as she is your only surviving bond,” he reasoned, adding that the kids, Pia (Hindi Medium) and Tarika (Radhika Madan) are also in different age groups so pose a different set of problems. “Actually, in Hindi Medium the problem is more related to parents while in Angrezi Medium, the concern for the child is the bigger crisis. The most interesting part was that my character, Champak, wants to play the mother of the child in a patriarchal society. This has its own unique problems.”

It’s been almost two years since Irrfan left for treatment for neuroendocrine tumour. I wondered how he looked at life today and the people he was with, in particular his wife Sutapa and their sons. “It’s been a roller-coaster ride, a memorable one. Happy moments were underlined because of the inherent uncertainty. We cried a little and laughed a lot. We became one huge body,” he shared.

He went on to write that he has become less judgemental as a person because things have stopped mattering so much. “You screen out noises …You are selective about what you want to filter in. I have gone through tremendous anxiety but have somehow managed to control it, then, let go. You are playing hopscotch all the time,” Irrfan confided. However, the extraordinary situation, he admitted, has made his boys extraordinary in their own way. “And the best part is that I’ve had all the time literally to see them evolve… A crucial time for a teenager, like the younger one. The older one isn’t a teenager anymore.” One could see him smiling, the smile of a father, as he relayed this.

And his wife? “What to say about Sutapa? She is there 24/7. She has evolved in care-giving and if I get to live, I want to live for her. She is the reason for me to keep at it still,” he stated emotionally.

One had missed these introspective conversations with him and promises that the next time he is in Mumbai, one would drop by with the fish curry he had craved for once. “I wish we would one day have the fish curry and you would say ‘Bon Appetit.’ Amen to that.” Irrfan signed off.


Irrfan Khan with younger son Ayan; with wife Sutapa and elder son Babil (right)
------------------------

Irrfan describes his Angrezi Medium family

Radhika Madan (His daughter Tarika Bansal): A hard worker

Kareena Kapoor (Naina, an undercover cop in London): DIVA! I wish she does more roles to exploit her potential

Dimple Kapadia (Kareena’s mother): Nostalgia, warmth...

Deepak Dobriyal (His brother Ghasiteram Bansal): Jugalbandi


Director Homi Adajania: Outrageous fun!

Producer Dinesh Vijan: A rare learner

-----------------------
MOMENTS & MEMORIES WITH IRRFAN

Without creation of a moment there is no story. Yet with so many stories, so many films, it’s very difficult to pinpoint a single one. But it’s the creation of these moments which drew me to acting...


THE WARRIOR (2001): There was this moment in the film where I was holding a sword, ready to kill a girl, when I look at her locket and a time-machine starts working for me… Something happens… I am in the desert, I have the sword in my hand, I drop it and in the blazing sunlight it has specks of snow… That for me was a great moment.


MAQBOOL (2003): The scene in the hospital where my character Maqbool watches Nimmi (Tabu) from outside. Since my face is against the glass, my sweat drips from it and it looks like the glass is crying. I will never forget the cue Vishal saab (director Vishal Bharadwaj) gave me for the scene, “Irrfan saab, iss shot mein daaku se Balmiki bante dekhna hai.”


THE NAMESAKE (2007): My character Ashoke Ganguli goes with his family to a beach. I walk with his son Gogol, down a thin strip of land, at the end of which there is only the ocean. And as we stand there, I realise that we have forgotten to bring the camera and tell my son, “Remember that we went to a place where there was nowhere left to go…” That was something special for me… I enjoy when a sentence is not contextual to that situation only.


PAAN SINGH TOMAR (2010): That moment when my character, Paan Singh, says, “Ee ka jawab kaun dego?” In the context of what had made him a dacoit—the situation which led him to be what he had become—it was not just a question but a passage of time. A summation of brutality, casteism etc… That was one moment I will always remember.

QISSA (2013): The scene where my character, a Sikh Punjabi named Umber Singh, is leaving his home during the Partition, with his wife and his three daughters. They break everything, poison the well, then, lock up the house and leave. That was writing excellence from (writer-director) Anup Singh.

Sushant says he had been trying to bag film with director, known for his reclusive nature, long before Sonchiriya materialised
Letty Mariam Abraham (MID-DAY; January 30, 2019)

Sushant Singh Rajput's eclectic choice of movies continues with Sonchiriya, which sees him as a dacoit in Chambal. While the film marks his first collaboration with Abhishek Chaubey, the actor admits that he would often try to reach out to the director in the hope of teaming up with him.

"I had been trying different ways to land up [at his office] or to 'accidentally' meet him. He is a unicorn, you can't see him," laughs Rajput, referring to the director's reclusive nature. Naturally then, his joy knew no bounds when Chaubey offered him the drama. "He met me during the Kedarnath shoot; as he narrated the first page in my hotel room, I noticed that he had the entire script ready. I knew then that I had to do the film."

Bollywood has had its share of dacoit dramas, most acclaimed being Bandit Queen (1994) and Paan Singh Tomar (2012). He says of the film set in 1975, "The timeline of Sonchiriya falls between these two films. [Like in these films], we too used the local dialect [to add authenticity]."

Sonia Lulla (MID-DAY; November 20, 2017)

Journalist-turned-filmmaker Vinod Kapri awaits the screening of his film, Pihu, which opens the International Film Festival of India’s Indian Panorama section, he has kicked- off work on his next. “I am collaborating with a leading production house for a commercial film called Frock,” he tells midday, as he chronicles his transition from creating documentaries to feature outing.

The success of Akshay Kumar-starrer Toilet - Ek Prem Katha, three years after his National Award-winning documentary Can’t Take This Shit Anymore, dabbled with the same subject of open defecation, made him realise that he needed to “think big”. “I had done research on Paan Singh Tomar for a documentary, but it did not work out. Seven years later, when Tigmanshu Dhulia’s Paan Singh Tomar (2012) released, I realised that the industry is accepting my ideas.”

Frock, says Kapri, like all his past releases, is also inspired by true events. The “strange” society, he suggests, offers enough fodder for filmmakers to put down their creative hats. “Why should we waste time in creating fantasies when our world is so scary? All my films are a reflection of society.”

Pihu, which revolves around a two-year-old, is also inspired by a real-life story. Creating the film, Kapri says, was no mean feat. The narrative rests entirely on the toddler who is the sole actor in the 100-minute-long outing. It puts the spotlight on the problems faced by a married couple and presents it from the point of view of the girl.

“The film chronicles a 12-hour time period in the life of the child when she’s left alone at home. Given that she was only two, and cannot react to acting cues, we incorporated her daily actions. I had to ensure that her actions had the ability to strengthen my screenplay. And even though she didn’t do anything in accordance with our demand, we pulled it off.”

The reaction to his outing as it travels across film festivals has been encouraging. “Viewers have told me they had sleepless nights. One couple said that they apologised to each other for their behaviour after catching a screening, since they realised how their personal issues affected their child.”

Rachana Dubey (BOMBAY TIMES; January 9, 2017)

Meghna Gulzar's much-awaited Talvar is the latest inna the rising genre of films inspired by true stories
THE TIMES OF INDIA (September 27, 2015)

BOMBAY TIMES (August 30, 2015)