The air felt heavier for Sara Ali Khan as she stood at NDTV Yuva, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of a memory that still lingered like a shadow. She was there to talk about her father, Saif Ali Khan, and the knife attack that had sliced through their lives, leaving behind a scar not just on him but on the entire family. Her eyes, usually bright with the spark of youth, carried a deeper hue of gratitude as she spoke, her words painting a picture of a moment when everything could have unraveled.
“It could have gone so wrong…” she began, her voice catching on the edge of what might have been, “and I am so grateful that everything is fine.” The relief was palpable, a soft exhale in a storm of what-ifs. For Sara, this wasn’t just about her father’s recovery—it was a jolt, a raw, unfiltered reminder of how fragile life can be. “We all talk about practicing mental health,” she said, her tone earnest, “Being grateful for your life is so important. And moments like that make you realise it.” It was as if the universe had pressed pause, forcing her to see the beauty in the ordinary, the gift in the mundane.
When someone asked if the incident had woven her family tighter together, Sara paused, her thoughts drifting to a truth she’d always held close. “It’s about making you realise how transient the things that you chase are,” she replied, her words laced with quiet wisdom. “It didn’t make me realise I love my father, I have known that for 29 years. It made me realise life can change overnight. So every second of every day deserves mindful celebration. It made me realise the importance of just being.” Her love for Saif wasn’t new—it was a steady flame, burning bright since her first breath—but this brush with loss had fanned it into something fiercer, a resolve to hold every moment sacred.
Her voice grew softer, more reflective, as she drew a thread between this personal quake and the tremors of the world. “It takes COVID to realise the importance of being at home with your family,” she mused, “or it takes somebody being almost attacked for you to be like, ‘okay, life matters.’” There was a rawness there, a heart laid bare. “Life does matter. The small joys do matter. Celebrate every day that you are alive. That is what life is about.” For Sara, this wasn’t just a lesson—it was a lifeline, a vow to dance through the days with eyes wide open, to cradle the fleeting joys before they slipped away. The attack had been a thief in the night, but it left behind a gift: a daughter’s fierce, tender awakening to the pulse of life itself.
