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Mumbai: Akshaye Khanna recently shared a post of himself in his Dhurandhar look from a fan page that cut straight to the bone of Bollywood’s cruel irony. The gist? The caption highlighted the fact that when he headlined films as a leading man, theatres stayed empty. Now, decades later, everyone’s calling him a legend. It’s funny because it hurts, and it hurts because it’s devastatingly true.
Cine-buffs are hailing him as the actor of the year, and rightfully so. His recent performances as Rehman Dakait, a Pakistani politician and gangster, in Ranveer Singh-led Dhurandhar and Mughal emperor Aurangzeb in Vicky Kaushal-led Chhava have showcased the kind of nuanced craft that doesn’t announce itself with background scores or melodramatic flourishes. Khanna acts with his silences, his glances and the subtle shift in his posture. He is a masterclass in restraint, and suddenly, everyone’s noticing.
But here’s the uncomfortable question his meme poses: where were all these admirers when films like Dahek (1999), Gandhi, My Father (2007), No Problem (2010) and Sab Kushal Mangal (2020) needed them? Sure, some of his films are now considered cult classics, but they didn’t set the box office on fire. Khanna delivered performance after performance that should have made him a household name, yet he remained perpetually on the periphery of stardom while flashier, less skilled contemporaries dominated the spotlight.
This isn’t just Akshaye Khanna’s story. It’s the story of countless actors who arrived before audiences were ready for them. Irrfan Khan spent years doing supporting roles before the world woke up to his genius. Rahul Bose chose parallel cinema over commercial success, delivering powerful performances in films like Mr. and Mrs. Iyer (2002), Chameli (2003) and Pyaar Ke Side Effects (2006) yet remained confined to the ‘art film’ label. Pankaj Tripathi was delivering stellar performances in small films long before Mirzapur (2018) series made him a sensation. Kay Kay Menon has been brilliant for decades, yet mainstream recognition remains elusive.
The pattern is clear and disheartening. Indian audiences, particularly in mainstream cinema, have often embraced style before substance, rewarding charisma over craft and star power over skill. We’ve worshipped at the altar of six-pack abs and romantic dance numbers while actors who chose depth over dazzle languished in the margins. We rewarded mediocrity wrapped in designer clothes while ignoring excellence that didn’t come with a famous surname or marketable face.
What changed? Perhaps the OTT revolution democratised taste, giving space to stories and performances that don’t fit the commercial formula. Perhaps audiences evolved, developing a hunger for authenticity over artifice. Or perhaps time simply does what it always does, separating wheat from chaff, allowing genuine talent to outlast temporary trends.
But here’s what we lose in this delayed recognition ‒ the prime years of these actors. Khanna didn’t suddenly become talented in his fifties. He was always this good. We just weren’t watching. And while it’s wonderful that he’s finally receiving his due, one can’t help but wonder about the films that could have been made, the roles that could have been written, if his talent had been recognised when it first blazed.
Those in the trade believe that Akshaye Khanna is one of the most underrated actors today. Unlike many of his peers, he stays away from the PR machinery that insecure actors of today rely on increasingly to shape their image and secure work.
He disappears for long stretches and resurfaces only with performances that somehow outdo his previous ones. So much so that Farah says he should get an Oscar for Dhurandhar.
The better-late-than-never consolation feels hollow when you consider what we collectively missed. So when Akshaye Khanna reposts a meme poking fun at audience inconsistency, it isn’t just wry humour. It’s a reminder of how often we mistake visibility for talent and how many great actors bloom in silence before the world finally learns to listen. The legend was always there. We are just arriving late to the screening with our glasses on.
