The last time she called me was about three months ago. Her voice, as usual, was very upbeat and happy: “How are you? I had a major surgery. There was a lot of pain. But what can one do but bear it?” Then she laughed with that infectious laughter that could disarm the coldest heart, “Jaani, I just want to work now, are you working on any productions?’ I am forever in the process of production, so I said yes. “And let’s meet soon,” she said. That was it… Then I read about her being in a coma and struggling for her life.

The persona that she mostly portrayed – that of a very uncouth, uneducated woman with a childish mindset – was far removed from the real Durdana Butt. She had a PhD in educational administration from the University of Toledo. And, she was totally intellectually inclined. People like me, who had a mental image of her through her characters, must have all been shocked at her fluent English and her strong presence. If anyone in the world had a presence, it was Dodi, which is what all her friends called her.

As an aspiring actor, I would watch her performances with great anticipation. In Aangan Tehra (written by Anwar Maqsood), she was cast with brilliant actors like Shakeel, Bushra Ansari and Arshad Mahmood, and yet she was a star. Her impeccable comedic timing was not just fantastic, but also very believable, and soon, she became a darling with the audience. I found out that she was also a very famous biker in Lahore. Lahore was very conservative at the time and even now, not much has changed. Dodi often rode a moped in Lahore, which, at least to me, was strange news.

When I met her for the first time, she introduced herself and complimented me about my work. In two minutes, we were old buddies. She had that strange aura about her. She felt like a friend. And that feeling twenty five years ago was not wrong; she truly was a malang, a sufi. There was a controversy about her that may have damaged her stardom, but she came out of it by turning to spirituality. When I met her after the incident, she was wearing so many rings and malas that I had to ask, “Apa, are you leaving acting?”

She said, “no, never. It pleases the people and they forget their sorrows. But Jaani, we all have to die eventually. What can the material world really give us?” Then she began extolling the virtues of being spiritual. Honestly, looking back, I really thought that this was a phase, and that she would soon return to the ways of the world. But she was always steadfast in her resolve. So, when she was diagnosed with cancer, she was very matter of fact about it. She said, “I’ll have to work more now, Jaani. These medicines are very expensive and this country doesn’t have a good system for old age.”

I watched a million episodes of the sitcoms she appeared on. I looked for signs of fatigue, but she never allowed mediocrity. She was always too good for the roles that she played. Mediocre scripts sounded good when she delivered them; yet you could see her lying down or sitting down a lot. She soldiered on and on for years like that. And she was very happy when she was working.

She had many dreams and hopes for our education system. Starting a film academy and the plight of our artists were always important to her. But the hopes dwindled and, eventually, she wouldn’t talk much about those. Durdana Apa has been given the Pride of Performance award and it is sad that she won’t be attending. But knowing her, and the phoenix that she was, this is a brilliant exit strategy – we will now mourn and celebrate her at the same time. Never was there a more worthy soul for this award than her. And it will be my honour to share the podium with her. Tell your loved ones how much you love them and spend more time listening to them, for time spares no one. I salute Durdana Butt, the brave soldier of Pakistani showbiz. May we always remember her with smiles on our faces, and with the pride that she lived amongst us.

The writer is a veteran film and TV actor