On Grief and Relatability

Grief has a strange way of expressing itself. We realise what somebody meant to us only when they leave. Grief comes rarely like a sharp wound but more like an emptiness within. A realisation of something that we will never have again. 

The emotions expressed by the general public over the recent death of the actor Nana Patekar went beyond the general condolences one sees on the death of a public figure. The grief appeared genuine. The connection people felt with him went beyond the usual actor-audience relationship. The loss felt personal and so did the grief.

The last time I saw this form of public reaction to the death of a celebrity was when actor Irrfan Khan died. Someone summed up his emotions then as: “apna banda lagta tha”. 

With both Nana and Irrfan, there was a level of relatability that went beyond the connection one feels with a superstar. To some extent, it was because of the characters they played. You always knew someone like Irrfan in Life in a Metro: someone who isn't politically correct or doesn't know how to read the room, but has his heart in the right place.  I have come across many ramrod-straight, no-nonsense Army officers like Nana in Prahar. 

The genius of these actors lay in their ability to catch nuances and relate to the audience. They articulated everyday struggles, frustrations, emotions, joys, and sorrows in a way larger-than-life superstars could not. Their ability to showcase and empathise with the struggles of a common man made them relatable. They felt like a friend who knows about the fight you are fighting and with whom you can share a drink because he would understand the choices and sacrifices you have made. 

But I believe people connected with both of these actors more deeply because of their off-screen personas. Their interviews never felt scripted. Their responses didn't feel cookie-cutter, and they spoke with a clarity of thought rarely seen nowadays. At some level, even if you opposed them, you conceded they might have a point. 

They also engaged with everybody. The condolences came from across the ideological spectrum. People remembered how their advice was without an agenda. Others related about how they had helped them without seeking any publicity, and nearly everybody talked about their calls to them just to ask about their well-being.  It felt personal because it was.

At the end of the day it is about being relatable and how you make people feel. People relate because one helps articulate our emotions. The grief comes because the loss takes the emotions we felt in their presence, and what remains is hollowness and a memory. 

I do hope Shri Nana Patekar Ji’s soul attains sadgati, and may he attain Moksha!

Om Shanti!