I have never referred to Irrfan as anything other than ‘Sir’. The man simply commands respect for his body of work, sure, but also for the person he is, and the journey he has traversed. But for the benefit of the readers of this article, I’m going to cross the line and refer to him as ‘Irrfan’ in writing. The frequent use of ‘Sir’ could mess with my grammar.
When I was asked to write about Irrfan, the first question that popped into my mind was, ‘which word describes the man best’? We’ve all heard all sorts of superlatives about him - his acting prowess, and more recently, his strength of character.
I wanted to steer clear of those and come up with something that defined my interaction with him, that spanned over two years, from the time we narrated Karwaan to him, till recently when I informed him that it had been selected for a film festival in Florence.
The word that seems to fit best is ‘disarming’. The thesaurus throws up synonyms like ‘winning’, ‘charming’, irresistible’ - he is all that, but the Cambridge dictionary hits the nail on the head with its definition - making a cautious person unexpectedly comfortable.
Let me put this in perspective. Picture me - a first-time filmmaker going with his script to meet one of the finest actors in the country. I am extremely intimidated, because, well it’s Irrfan. And he has been directed by the likes of Wes Anderson, Anurag Basu, Vishal Bhardwaj, Danny Boyle, Tigmanshu Dhulia, Ron Howard, Ang Lee, Mira Nair, Shoojit Sircar, and Michael Winterbottom.
I am also in awe, because I grew up worshipping Steven Spielberg, and tripping on the Jurassic Park franchise, and Irrfan played a significant part in Jurassic World. So as you can imagine, I’m shitting bricks. I have with me one trump card. Friend and dialogue writer par excellence, Hussain Dalal. We walk into a suite in a Delhi hotel. Hussain and he have done some work together, so they meet warmly. I’m awkward, starstruck, and suddenly very thirsty.
Irrfan is warm, and is seemingly pleased with the background check he has done on me. I breathe. We narrate. He listens without giving much away. My breathing gets difficult. We wind up. He claims to be surprised with the maturity of the script, and asks, “if you guys are okay with it, can I play Shaukat?”
Now I’ve narrated scripts to many actors, and they can be distracted, dismissive, visibly disinterested, and can then prepare you for rejection with a “let me think about it and get back to you”. Irrfan’s attention was unwavering. And his “let’s do this” was disarmingly instantaneous.
While prepping for the film, we met often. On one of those meetings, he said he had watched some of my past work and hadn’t enjoyed it. I was on the back foot right away. As luck would have it, he followed this up with pertinent questions about the script and his character. I nervously struggled to answer them. I thought I sensed skepticism. Inside, I was panicking. When my ordeal was over, we chatted about what he had lined up before our next meeting.
He said he was completing a film which also had Golshifteh Farahani. I blurted out that I had a massive crush on her. He smiled and said he’d convey my feelings to her, and tell her that someday soon I’d come narrate a subject to her, because I had promise and could go far. The weight of the world lifted off me and I left with a smile. I realised that Irrfan likes to test you from time to time, to keep you sharp, but he only makes that effort if he likes you. I saw him do that to a few people during the shoot as well but only because he was fond of them.
Our shoot was smooth. Irrfan loved Kerala, and the picturesque beauty of our locations probably made up for any of my inadequacies as a newbie. He got along well with everyone in the crew, irrespective of department or pay scale. He has the wonderful knack of being able to have a detailed conversation on any subject, and he’s particularly passionate about regional and world cinema.
And what can one possibly say about his skills as an actor? When the camera rolls, he just becomes this finely nuanced and luminous demigod, who will consistently surpass your expectations and rise above the script. And on our set in particular, he was just effing hilarious. Dulquer often talks about how hard it was for him to keep a straight face. Mithila often talks about how she couldn’t. I’ve met film people who say that it feels like Irrfan made up all his funny lines in the film. I think that is the biggest compliment for Hussain, because most of the dialogues were in the script, and Irrfan, of course, is a masterclass on owning one’s lines and acing the occasional improvisation.
We had our differences too, on a couple of occasions. But I think he acknowledged the fact that I had a vision and a spine, and I figured that his suggestions were almost always in the best interest of the film, and our equation got better.
Even when he saw the first cut, his feedback was very helpful and rather unselfish. Soon after that, he received his shocking diagnosis, and none of us could believe it. I sent him a message of concern and love after typing many drafts, and his replies were prompt, and disarming. He explained the gravity of the situation, but was mature and philosophical about it, and then he cracked a joke. And despite myself, I smiled, moist-eyed.
That complex reaction he evoked in that moment - that casual yet thought-provoking wisdom, that quicksilver wit… that’s Irrfan.
(Akarsh Khurana has been writing films since 2003 and web series since 2014. He made his debut as feature film director in 2018 with High Jack and Karwaan. He runs Akvarious Productions, a prolific theatre company established in the year 2000. He also acts occasionally, albeit reluctantly.)
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