When Om Puri stood in front of a camera, he filled up the screen, writes Anupam Kher

We only round up a person's life and his achievements when he is no longer with us, and when I was heading to Mr Om Puri's residence today, I was thinking about the immense contributions he made to Indian cinema.

His work will be textbook material for many Indian actors, for generations to come. Superstars are different from actors -- the former has fame, and it is well-deserved, but true, actors are more than that. Individuals like Om Puri are hard to come by. He was the 'common man' of actors -- from a background that was fairly meagre, the son of a soldier, with no English-medium background.

It was through sheer determination and commitment that he proved to me, and many others, that there is no substitute to hard work and honesty. He was the first of his kind to contribute to international films the way he did -- in Roland Joffe's City of Joy, as well has his last film, The Hundred-foot Journey, which was co-produced by Steven Spielberg and Oprah Winfrey.

He was just as comfortable in more desi roles. As a person, he was kind and full of joy, even on sets. He had a way with people, never making other actors feel smaller or dejected in his presence. The only sad thing is that he had a lonely death. I am confident that his work is a legacy and proof that he lived life to its fullest. He was an actor and a gentleman.

I have personally known Om for 43 years. We met when he arrived in Shimla. I was 19 at the time, and over the moon that such a brilliant person had come to see us. When I was a struggling actor in Mumbai, with its lure of money and success, he told me that I would do fine. I was trying to find my identity, and it was comforting to hear that from someone you deeply respect.

We would meet at Prithvi theatre in Juhu and talk about life. He would pick up naughty sentences in Kashmiri, and that was his way of connecting with me.

Just a month ago, I received a call from Salman (Khan). He was shooting a film in Kullu-Manali, when I was in Delhi. He told me to tell Om Puri to look after himself. Om promised me he would, in the New Year. A few days ago I called him to remind him of his promise, and wanted to meet him this week, but unfortunately that did not happen.

He was a great man and his man Friday Mishraji lost a master. They would sit on the same table and eat together. He would call me once or twice a month when he was lonely. He called me Mr Positive. As we grow older, these are the connections we look forward to. Out of my 61 years of existence, I knew him for 43. That's practically a lifetime.

What I liked best about Om Puri is that he reinvented himself without making a big deal of it. He was comfortable in his own skin, in all his roles. When he used to stand in front of a camera, he would fill up the screen, and that was his legacy.