“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” I often repeat this quote by Maya Angelou, after meeting someone, in my head. How did so and so make me feel during our encounter? Why? What did they do to make me feel better/worse about myself and the situation? It’s a great meter by which I measure friends, family and work contacts.

When I first met Irrfan Khan in Abu Dhabi, in 2013 for an interview, he made me feel like a princess, a genius and a great journalist, all rolled into one. It was a weird and challenging time in my life — of course never as challenging as what we’re experiencing today because at that time, it was my own personal struggle that I dealt with. it didn’t involve carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders. But I walked away feeling like anything was possible, like Irrfan had given me his permission to dream. Dream big.

Now, in the moment when we would have needed him most, Irrfan has left us. He’s gone. He had been ill for the last couple of years and yet, just as with all those we deeply love and are deserving of that love, his passing was unexpected. Unwarranted. Unwanted. HIs words won’t get us out of this funk now.

So what was it about that moment in Abu Dhabi, and years later, in 2017 in Locarno, where the above photo was taken, that made the encounter so special? Irrfan was magical. I have used that term over and over again when referring to him, and he was kind. He could give me his undivided attention in a hallway full of passersby in a luxury hotel in the Emirates, while our lunch waiters looked on admiringly and waited for us to finish so they could get photos with him. “Wait a minute, I want to sit with you a little longer,” Irrfan said, and walked over to the crowd awaiting their turn with him. “OK, now lets talk more, I really love talking with you,” he proclaimed as he returned to sit down with with.

I’m still scratching my head years later to remember what made me so interesting that day. You know what they say about a person and how their reflection is what shines through in the other person’s eyes? That was Irrfan, what he saw in me was what was always within him. Magic, and so much humanity.

In Locarno, four years later, I was a different person. I felt at home at a festival where my best friend coordinated all my interviews and the meetings I’d had so far were plentiful and stimulating. And yet, in that community atmosphere I have always craved, that feeling of belonging that lasted for a summer, I also remember sitting down with Irrfan and feeling his immense wonderful-ness. In the late afternoon, just as the humidity of the Swiss lakeside town had started to subside, with outside seating of the restaurant at the Belvedere starting to feel eerily empty, I sat with a man who talked about spirituality, the true kind not religion, cinema as a tool to understand the world, and what he looks for in films. Oh and how he wanted to play Carlo Chatrian, then artistic director of Locarno, before moving onto Berlinale, in a film.

You can read the entire interview here.

What I remember aren’t his words, I actually had to look up what he said in the interview to write the paragraph above. Instead, I remember that same feeling of complete and utter comfort that I felt sitting across from him. And when we took the photo together, he threw his arms around me, his wife barely glancing over at us from her table, with the joie de vivre of someone who truly loves his fellow humans. He made me laugh out loud, with all the joy of a child whose parent throws her up in the air. And it was with that feeling that I walked over to my next adventure, with an extra spring in my step and a sparkle in my eye. It was Irrfan’s reflection bouncing back at him of course.

I will always remember how you made me feel, Irrfan. Always.

p.s. the above piece was written with a few tears in my eyes. Please overlook any mistake or spelling error. Peace.