How can I write this as a family statement when
the whole world is taking it as a personal loss? How can I begin to feel alone
when millions are grieving with us at the moment? I want to assure everyone
that this is not a loss, it is a gain. It’s a gain of the things he taught us,
and now we shall finally begin to truly implement it and evolve. Yet I want to
try to fill in the things that people don’t already know.
It’s unbelievable for us but I would put it in
Irrfan’s words, “it’s magical” whether he is there or not there, and that’s
what he loved, he never loved one dimensional reality. The only thing I have a
grudge against him is; he has spoiled me for life. His strive for perfection
doesn’t let me settle for ordinary in anything. There was a rhythm which he
always saw in everything, even in cacophony and chaos, so I have learnt to sing
and dance to the music of that rhythm, even with my tone-deaf voice and two
left feet. Funnily, our life was a masterclass in acting, so when the dramatic
entry of the “uninvited guests” happened, I had by then learnt, to see a
harmony in the cacophony. The doctor’s reports were like scripts which I wanted
to perfect, so I never miss any detail that he sought for in his performance.
We met some amazing people in this journey and the list is endless, but there
are some whom I have to mention, our oncologist Dr. Nitesh Rohtogi (Max
hospital Saket) who held our hand in the beginning, Dr. Dan Krell (UK), Dr.
Shidravi (UK), my heartbeat and my lantern in the dark Dr. Sevanti Limaye
(Kokilaben hospital). It’s difficult to explain what a wondrous, beautiful,
overwhelming, painful and exciting this journey has been. I find this 2 and 1/2
years to have been an interlude, which had its own beginning, middle and
culmination with Irrfan helming the role of the orchestra conductor, separate
from the 35 years of our companionship, ours was not a marriage, it was a
union. I see my little family, in a boat, with both my sons Babil and Ayaan,
paddling it forward, with Irrfan guiding them “wahan nahi, yahan se modo” but
since life is not cinema and there are no retakes, I sincerely wish my children
sail this boat safely with their father’s guidance in mind and rockabye through
the storm. I asked my children, if possible, they could sum up a lesson taught
by their father that has been important to them;
Babil: ’Learn to surrender to the dance of
uncertainty and trust your faith in the universe”
Ayaan: “Learn to control your mind and to not let
it control you.”
Tears will flow as we will plant a raat ki rani
tree, his favourite, to the place where you have put him to rest after a
victorious journey. It takes time but it will bloom and the fragrance will
spread and touch all the souls whom I won’t call them fans but family for years
to come.
