“I suppose, in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go.”—words that keep you haunting, hoping and howling with grief and love. But how do we let go of Irrfan Khan? With the legacy he left behind. The grace he left behind. With every role he played, he gifted us pieces of himself. And now, we hold on to those pieces like prayer.
So, maybe we don’t let go? Rather fight to hold onto something, even when things take a bad turn. When things flip to the other side. Stay there, with the reminiscences and the good things, till death pulls us apart. I recently came across a beautiful verse: ‘Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.’ Because then you accept the inevitable. Memories ring after that. And you cherish them forever. With Irrfan, those memories come uninvited; through a line, a glance, a pause. And suddenly, grief doesn’t feel cruel; it feels like an honour.
And with Metro…In Dino, the memories hit us more. We recall Monty more than ever.
And how can we not? His crooked smile, the quiet charm, the eyes that spoke whole lifetimes—Monty wasn’t just a character; he was Irrfan, through and through. Watching the spiritual sequel unfold, there’s a strange ache in your chest. You’re waiting for that unmistakable walk, the sly humour, the sudden well of emotion. And it doesn’t come. He doesn’t come.
Yet, the makers—we applaud them, for they knew that void. They knew we’d come searching for him. And they didn’t erase him. They kept Monty alive. Kept him intact. Not rewritten. Not replaced. Just… there. Breathing between scenes, lingering in pauses, tucked inside silences. A cinematic whisper of Irrfan, as if the film itself was mourning and remembering, like us.
Because some characters are more than roles. They become echoes of the souls who played them. And while Monty doesn’t walk into this new chapter, he stays—gently, stubbornly, invisibly present. A shadow that warms instead of haunts. An ode to the man who made the ordinary profound.
But yes, the void remains. And maybe it always will. Not because the film lacked anything, but because it reminds us of all that we once had. And lost. And loved.
We miss you, Irrfan. Every frame reminds us. Every silence speaks your name.