Since the news of Irrfan Khan’s death, a question has been bothering me – Why does this feel personal? Everyone around me has mourned Irrfan, as if he was their person. Why? Maybe it is what Irrfan represented, or what he created for us, or just the person he was. I knew him through two of my favorite performances, in Lunchbox (2013) as Saajan Fernandes, and in Qarib Qarib Singlle (2017) as Yogi. While Yogi flirted me into a modern old-world romance, Mr. Fernandes taught me that life gives us a second chance when we are willing to take it.

Mr Fernandez from ‘Lunchbox’

In Lunchbox, Mr Fernandes spends 35 years of his life confined in the rhythm of an accounting job; one desk, one chair, many files. He represents the hardworking Indian man. He is loyal to his job, minds his business, and does not expect more from life than one ‘ought’ to. His standoffish personality makes him a bit of social aloof. He is the bitter old man who puts up a fight with little kids playing on the streets. You don’t like him at first. Then slowly he lets you in, into his empty evenings, dull lunches and lonely commutes.

Lunchbox is the story of Mr. Fernandes’ retirement, not just from the job he does at work, but from a life that feels like a job. On the one hand, he is too scared to let anyone in, and on the other hand, he does the unthinkable: takes a chance and expresses his love to a stranger. But his old age haunts him, stinking of a life he never lived; and he steps back, he refrains. Even his recoil is graceful, and he surprises us by coming bare open with his fears and self-doubt, which is shouting that he is not worthy of love. He finds a way out of this fear too, and he returns. Khan teaches us here the path of finding love, is through the difficult and complex road of self-acceptance.

Yogi ji from ‘Qarib Qarib Single’

Yogendra Kumar aka Yogi, from Qarib Qarib Singlle, is a surprise. He is a bit too much: too familiar, too pushy, too talkative. Yet his romance is restrained, his silence is timely, and his demeanor is calm. Yogi has a lot of love to give for everyone: the waiter, his driver, strangers in a train, and even people walking on the road. He doesn’t play by the rules. Yogi is a rich, jobless, full-time poet with a failed book. He refuses to chase money but spends it extravagantly. He woos a woman by inviting her on a trip to meet his exes. Yogi is a paradox. You love him, you hate him.

Qarib Qarib is a journey of letting go one’s past; not by force but by going back to it – facing it, giving it a long hug, and bidding it a warm goodbye. Yogi reminds us that it is ok to take a few chances, get your hands dirty while eating mangoes, dance a few dances with strangers and get your heart broken again. Yogi finds connection in anyone he meets, yet there is something distant about him because you can’t pin him down easily. The most interesting thing about him is that while he seems very demanding, he is not looking really for anything but some good poery, conversations and food. Khan makes us smile, laugh and eases our way into brave the act of putting yourself out there again.

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Irrfan Khan’s deceptively effortless acting in both these characters, make them a little too real. Perhaps that’s why we miss him so dearly, because even on screen he felt so real and alive. Watching him was like like spending an afternoon with someone; and it hurts when people we know, leave us.

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