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RIP Irrfan Khan.

I don’t know how much I’ll write about this. I don’t know if this will be the last post. But I need to write.


The last time I felt such a bolt of jolt, the year was 2018, and the person was Sridevi. Working as an editor it was my job to plan and execute stories of and around her life and death, and condemn the idiocy that was flouted on some of the channels. I did it, with a heavy heart and a sense of duty. Before that, it was way back in 2016, when suddenly at the end of the workday I received the news of Alan Rickman’s demise. The same person we grew up despising as Severus Snape and cried on the unfairness of the character’s life at the end of it. Alan had said once, that Harry Potter will always be a part of his life, and one day, at the age of 80, he would be reading the book, and when his grandchildren would ask, “After all this time?”, he would say, “Always.” That day never came. He didn’t reach 80.


Today, in 2020, when the news of Irrfan Khan’s death flashed across my phone’s screen, I felt the same; worse, if possible. I will not say how he was an actor par excellence and what all were his contributions. It’s all there, speaking for itself. I will only say this, death never comes unannounced. It will catch you unawares. It has the power to do so.


Come to think of it, death is the ultimate truth of life. Not birth, but death. Because birth can be modified, delayed, terminated, or even induced, but death, death comes when it has to, and then no medical procedure in the world can alter, defy, or defer it. Even if it does, you’ll just be alive as a vessel, never truly living.


Our time on this planet is limited. What are we using it for? Fighting, creating boundaries, faux enmity, faux image creation and presentation by the media to the citizens to make them believe that we need that faux enmity and pay taxes so that the governments keep hoarding more and more weapons; to kill and create more deaths.


Irrfan Khan was only 53, he had a lifetime of cinema ahead of him. He is no more. Death claimed him.


Death will never warn you before coming. It will come to you irrespective of the god you worship, or don’t worship at all. It will come. And all that hogwash of afterlife and reincarnations? It doesn’t matter because you’ll never have any proof of it. We are destroying what we have, in the quest of what we don’t know; in the greed of some heaven and fear of some hell that’s out there. Where? No one knows.


So what matters then? Maybe, how peaceful was the life you lived, and the legacy you left behind. It’s better to be celebrated in death, than being mocked in an afterlife that never was. Because my friend, you don’t get to live the same lifetime again.

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