Irrfan Khan & Rishi Kapoor passed away within a day of each other
Irrfan and Rishi Kapoor. Two artistes who
appealed to multitudes in their own special way. And both gone, within a day of
each other, leaving the world of cinema poorer, and their fans bereft of
someone to unconditionally love on the big screen.
If
Irrfan was incandescence, with the rare ability to take any script and absorb
its essence and translate it in front of the camera, Rishi Kapoor was the
consummate star, who slayed it with his swag, and sweater, in his earlier
years, and in the last decade, allowed the performer in him to take over. They
worked together in the thriller D-Day, where, ironically, both perish, first
Irrfan’s character of Wali Khan, and shortly later, Rishi’s Iqbal Seth.
Irrfan was incandescence, with the rare ability to absorb the essence of any script and translate it in front of the camera. A still from Karwaan (2018)
Time can be cruel, not allowing one to mourn a death properly, before it hurls another grief at you. That’s what happened with Irrfan and Rishi too. Both occupy different corners of a film lover’s heart, and it’s double the pain, simultaneously.
Irrfan is the philosopher, his performances showcase a light-footedness that comes from years of practice and learning to be in the moment. He was self-contained, engaging only when needed.
Rishi belonged to another era, one where stars were not as accessible, where they did not hold their thoughts, where they did not really practice political correctness. And his Twitter timeline is proof of that.
Rishi Kapoor slayed with his swag, and sweater, in his earlier days. A still from Deewana (1992)
Rishi got into spats, got personal sometimes, but was usually quick to get back to his normal self, the cinema equivalent of wrapping one’s arm around the villain's shoulder and walking into the sunset.
Irrfan
lived the life of an actor, and Rishi that of a star. You’d have to search to
find even a small unkind word about the former. You’ll find a lot of instances
of the latter’s anger and love for argument. Their paths were different, but
the destination was the same: a place in the viewer’s heart.
Irrfan was never the dancer, barring the 7 Up jingle with Raveena Tandon.
He used
his innate charm and talent to live a character on screen. But there was a rare
grace in the way he moved; in the way his eyes, hooded, dark and lovely, explored
emotions, revealing little, nothing or everything, all at the same time. And,
his smile!
Remember
the half smile in the train in The Lunchbox, when he bestows it on an elderly
lady after a minute of major suspicion? The full-throated laughter he shares
with Deepika Padukone in Piku, as two completely different people find a middle
path? Or, the understanding shrug-smile he flashes ever so often in the
much-underrated Kaarwan?
Rishi Kapoor the actor got his due much later after stardom waned a bit. Here a still from Do Dooni Char (2010)
Rishi
was probably among the greatest actor of songs in Hindi cinema. He played every
musical instrument, including the dafli,
on screen like he was born to play it. He lip-synced songs to a fault, and
danced like he and the song were one; his girth in later years,
notwithstanding, he never lost his graceful moves. Go back and watch his old
hits with many heroines. He usually outshone all of them in the dance
department. If they had great costumes, he had his trusted sweater and a soul
that was in tune with dance.
Rishi
Kapoor the actor got his due much later, after stardom waned a bit. And for
that, we should be grateful to directors such as Anubhav Sinha, who gave us the
gracious Murad Ali Mohammed in Mulk, wrongly accused of supporting terrorism
before he is freed; Habib Faisal for Santosh Duggal in Do Dooni Char; and
Shakun Batra for the porn-loving nonagenarian Amarjeet Kapoor in Kapoor &
Sons, among others. I wonder what he would have done with Robert De Nero’s part
in the Indian version of The Intern, with Deepika. We can only imagine now.
The lovable Irrfan Khan in Lunchbox (2013)
As for
Irrfan, from his fleeting letter writer part in Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay to
worldwide fame with Asif Kapadia’s The Warrior, Mira Nair’s nostalgia-filled
The Namesake and Ritesh Batra’s delicious The Lunchbox, and his innumerable
television appearances, he glowed from the very beginning, though it took time
for mainstream audiences to recognise that. His roles in Maqbool and Haider are
one for the ages.
With both gone, one can only revisit their films on OTT to remember exactly why the tears flowed freely when news of Irrfan’s passing came in, and why despite the sadness you also smiled for the happy memories Rishi left on screen.
(Subha J Rao is an independent journalist based out of Mangaluru. She contributes to a clutch of publications on cinema, sustainability and food.)