Irrfan Khan's son Babil shares vintage pictures of the late actor

When I held that nerf gun in my hands, my father’s empty room always echoed in the silence of Madh Island, but in that moment I was John Wick surrounded by bad guys with machine guns,

Irrfan Khan, Bollywood, Angrezi Medium, Babil Khan, Bollywood Actors Died In 2020, Top English News, True Scoop- True Scoop

Irrfan Khan's son Babil, who often remembers his late father with emotional posts on social media, let us in into the actor's "old room" in their former home in Madh Island, a quaint destination on the northern coast of Mumbai, away from the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps.

Babil, who studies film in London, attached a few priceless memories he has associated with the room and shared a thought that Irrfan Khan believed in as an actor. "Studying acting now, I think of one of the ideas of acting that he used to implement - that the craft has immense emotional similarities to playing around as a child," he wrote.

For the unversed, Irrfan Khan has passed away today. He was 53. Irrfan was admitted to Kokilaben hospital in Mumbai after he suffered a colon infection. The 53-year old actor was under doctor's observation.

The 'Angrezi Medium' actor was diagnosed with a neuroendocrine tumour in 2018. He is survived by his wife Sutapa and sons – Babil and Ayan.

Studying acting now, I think of one of the ideas that he used to implement; that the craft has immense emotional similarities to playing around as a child. At age 9, when you hold that cricket bat inside the walls of your room, you can feel a stadium roar and see a bowler rushing to knock your head off. When I held that nerf gun in my hands, my father’s empty room always echoed in the silence of Madh Island, but in that moment I was John Wick surrounded by bad guys with machine guns, gunshots everywhere, and you can hear them, you know? I was a woman once, after watching chak de India and I’d get excited dribbling around imaginary defenders and then really shoot that solid ball with my hockey stick and I’d break something. Oh I’d always break something, ma would get so pissed. I think you’ve got to find the child in you and keep it alive, no matter how old you get.''

Check Babil's old-timey photos of his father:

View this post on Instagram

I forgot to put in the second picture, didn’t want to write the entire caption again, also switched up the order of the pictures by mistake, yes I know I had one job, but do I look like I give a shit 🤷‍♂️ (when you zoom in to notice what’s written on the wall behind me, Baba wrote notes on my walls when I left for London, I guess he still liked drawing on the walls, I guess the child was still alive, which brings me great joy, and yes he spelt ‘opinion’ with an ‘E’, I am obviously biased here cause I think that’s kind of ducking awesome and also I spelt that with a ‘D’ on purpose before autocorrect decides that profane language must not be spoken. Plus I like ducks, there’s a secret joke in that, see if u can find it. And no I’m not sad in the picture, I smoked a spliff, deal with it. I’m 22. I gotta live a little. And I now have realised that my original caption was probably shorter than this one, so kids, don’t smoke spliffs. And the trolling lives on :*

A post shared by Babil (@babil.i.k) on

View this post on Instagram

Reminiscing, Baba and homies.

A post shared by Babil (@babil.i.k) on

View this post on Instagram

You know one of the most important things my father taught me as a student of cinema? Before I went to film school, he warned me that I’ll have to prove my self as Bollywood is seldom respected in world cinema and at these moments I must inform about the indian cinema that’s beyond our controlled Bollywood. Unfortunately, it did happen. Bollywood was not respected, no awareness of 60’s - 90’s Indian cinema or credibility of opinion. There was literally one single lecture in the world cinema segment about indian cinema called ‘Bollywood and Beyond’, that too gone through in a class full of chuckles. it was tough to even get a sensible conversation about the real Indian cinema of Satyajit Ray and K.Asif going. You know why that is? Because we, as the Indian audience, refused to evolve. My father gave his life trying to elevate the art of acting in the adverse conditions of noughties Bollywood and alas, for almost all of his journey, was defeated in the box office by hunks with six pack abs delivering theatrical one-liners and defying the laws of physics and reality, photoshopped item songs, just blatant sexism and same-old conventional representations of patriarchy (and you must understand, to be defeated at the box office means that majority of the investment in Bollywood would be going to the winners, engulfing us in a vicious circle). Because we as an audience wanted that, we enjoyed it, all we sought was entertainment and safety of thought, so afraid to have our delicate illusion of reality shattered, so unaccepting of any shift in perception. All effort to explore the potential of cinema and its implications on humanity and existentialism was at best kept by the sidelines. Now there is a change, a new fragrance in the wind. A new youth, searching for a new meaning. We must stand our ground, not let this thirst for a deeper meaning be repressed again. A strange feeling beset when Kalki was trolled for looking like a boy when she cut her hair short, that is pure abolishment of potential. (Although I resent that Sushant’s demise has now become a fluster of political debates, but if a positive change is manifesting, in the way of the Taoist, we embrace it.)

A post shared by Babil (@babil.i.k) on

View this post on Instagram

5 years too much, And now you’re a stranger 5 years in love, Pickin straws out the haystack Flicking through the picket pages Of the books I never read through. And that’s just one half of it The other half is you, Gleaming through the wicked winter moon, I wish I could fit in your shoes. You have gone so far away. And I’m always just a little too late. Plucking the strings of my sitar to soothe, These Monday morning blues And I carried on like the wayward son, In the wayward sun, but I found myself roaming the wastelands. I was high, when I witnessed my mother cry. I might never win. For, never will forget me, the unforgivable sin. Blood on her lips, crippled my heart. Pierced my soul like an adamant dart. Ma, my ma, tell me you love me too. Ma, my ma, I would give it all for you. (Yo bro, u know I love you more than life itself. ) @sikdarsutapa

A post shared by Babil (@babil.i.k) on

View this post on Instagram

He had this strange understanding of rain. I cannot compare it to anything that I have ever experienced. He could only explain it to me through the limits within what words would let him, but there was a connection that I cannot envelop even in the most beautiful language; only the desert could show, oh my god, what the rain did to him.

A post shared by Babil (@babil.i.k) on



Trending