He mystified us as the baffling Tipu of Tau Dil Ka Kya Hua (TDKKH), he made us yearn for a Romeo like the lovelorn Sunny of Lashkara, he tore at our hearts as the transgender Shammo of Alif Allah Aur Insan (AAAI) and he tickles our hearts as the romantic Azhar in Dil Moam Ka Diya.
But it’s quite likely that that outside of diehard television drama watchers, most will not know who Imran Ashraf is. That may soon be about to change if the actor has his way.
In person, the actor comes across as an all-out entertainer who can unleash an avalanche of emotions and yet retain a touch of eccentricity. He talks nineteen to the dozen, laughs heartily, and suddenly rattles off his lines from plays. His eyes say more than words ever could, which is perhaps what makes him such an intense actor.
After a long journey of hits and misses, he won the Hum Award for Best Supporting Actor for Shammo in AAAI, finally achieving the recognition he had relentlessly strived for. But not one to rest on his laurels, Imran Ashraf continues to woo audiences with one outstanding performance after another, building up an interesting body of work in the past year.
How it started
There was a time people recognised him in plays but didn’t know his name. “I appeared as a child star once, playing Arifa Siddiqui’s son,” he says, his eyes wondering if I knew who he is talking about.
“Then off I went to boarding school. Later, I joined my dad’s business and when it was liquidated, I was lost and didn’t have a clue what I should do next. I came to Karachi in 2010 when Dilawar sahib [a director] called me for Wafa Kaisi Kahan Ka Ishq where I had just one scene and my acting was so bad that the project heads wanted the scene removed.”
Imran feels indebted to some actors for their misbehaviour with him early on.
“This particular actor abused me and asked the director ‘Where have you picked up this so-and-so from?’ I went home and thought that this person hasn’t descended from heaven and if he can act, so can I. I was so uncertain about my work that I used to pray that something would happen and the drama would get canned, or the city would go on strike. I just wanted to run away,” he says, smiling in his pale blue tee that ironically reads ‘Certainty’.
“If I was with another actor, he would be greeted differently and I was treated as though I’m a bad person in real life too,” he says.
Two years went by without any work. “My performance had improved but for another two years, I got no work,” he reminisces.
“My Urdu was pathetic and I would listen to the news and repeat after them or repeat after actors in TV plays in order to improve my delivery. I would watch an editor at work to see what actors do which gets their scenes cut or what scenes don’t end up on the editing room floor. Then I played a mawali [street thug] in Ab Ke Saawan Barse.
"At this point I was about to hit rock-bottom — I had no place to live, I had no money, I was living day-to-day. Two more days and I would have gone back home to Islamabad. My friend Umar who worked as an assistant director called me up to say ‘There is a guy here who was offered a negative lead role but he can’t do it. The director is frustrated. Tu aja [You come and do it]’! And then the director called me.”