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30 April 2021

Still Remembering You...

Today is Rishi Kapoor's first death anniversary. Yesterday was Irffan's.

And while I didn't have a post planned for today, for various reasons, I didn't want the day to go by without marking the passing of one actor who has given me hours and hours of entertainment, and that of another, who also did not need a great film to give a great performance.

Rishi was a cribber of the highest order. He always had a peeve to rant over. (And regret as quickly). One long-standing peeve was "Who would remember my films once I'm gone?" His hard work, he had often complained, would be for nought. And yes, he had acted in a slew of forgettable films that were churned out by the dozens, especially during the 80s. 

But, as I noted in the tribute I paid him upon his demise, Rishi was never bad or forgettable. He infused his characters with a life that raised them beyond the films they peopled. His co-stars vouch for his sincerity and dedication - and no matter how fluff-filled the film, Rishi's performance was never dismissive of it. 

While Rishi had had a long innings, hanging up his boots once or twice in pique, Irffan had years ahead of him - better performances, more nuanced characters, bigger worlds to conquer. All that, cut tragically short, too soon, far too soon. 

One left us with sorrow, the other left us wanting more. Life goes on, and indeed, it must. But it will never be the same as when they were with us, part of our lives, yet separate from us. Connections are strange that way. So is grief. And loss. Irffan's absence leaves me saddened for the waste of great potential. Rishi's memory makes me smile and want to cry, both at the same time. The loss is the same, yet different. For Rishi's loss, to me at least is, as I have noted before, more personal.

You are missed, sir. Your films may be forgotten, but both you, and your work is/will be remembered and cherished.

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