I miss a certain friend....we spent many a day just talking; sometimes books - a favourite author of ours, a new movie, comparisons between a Rajnikanth and Amitabh… Our discussions would be so involving to us, that sometimes even our manager would be curious and ask as to what it was that we were both so concerned about. Now, when I turn to my side, to the next cubicle, he is not there - to listen to all my meandering thoughts, to answer my endless questions, to respond to my teasing. He hasn’t been in my adjoining cubicle for quite some time now, since our project ended and he went onsite to USA, and then I shifted to Gurgaon; but now his absence is no longer temporary, there is no impractical, even somewhat forlorn hope that we might again be working together...he is gone forever. He has left us, and this unbelievable shock has left us all in a state of seemingly ceaseless sorrow. I believe he is looking down upon me, and smiling, wanting to give his comments on my current situation; now that he is at a place where he can observe all that goes on down here.
The finality of death is so difficult to accept; it brings with it the yearning for the people who will no longer be with us, laugh with us, it is something that has not even the distant possibility of reversibility, - once you lose someone to death, you cannot ever regain his/her presence. Death leaves behind so many memories, so many words unspoken, so many things inexperienced, so many thoughts unshared…He was a good person; an exceptional human being - everyone loved him, and everyone still does. Another common friend (colleague) still cannot accept his loss; sometimes, he forwards previous mails sent by our dear friend... his words, his mirth, his comments seem to revive this person, lessen the grief, the inescapable loss of a dear one. There are others who chose to mourn and pay tribute to him in their personal ways; some visiting his home in Ooty, some opening his photos, some reading his mails to them over and over and over again, some remembering him in the back of their consciousness whenever some common thing they shared come in front of their eyes, some look at the gifts they got from him, and see his smiling face in front of their teary eyes. He will never come back, but he has left such a powerful impact on our lives that we have all created a memorial for him in our hearts..I have lost a friend, so close being so far, so near to my heart, so understanding… its hard for me to accept his absence; there have been so many things he has helped me with....from the minute technical problems to the major confusions in my professional life...he has been a guide..My first impression of him three years ago was that of a super technical fellow who worked a lot, hard working, serious, silent - that perception changed along our journey together in the same project, when we started interacting due to my endless doubts. He transformed from the silent diligent colleague to a talkative funny smart worker friend, who knew how to finish his work smartly, how to delegate responsibilities, how to pretend that he had a lot of workload, when actually the only time he worked was after the entire team had left.
It might seem that I am demeaning him, his work, but it is not so. Our conversations were always honest and I don’t intend to change that now, no matter how inconsiderate I might seem; and we both had frank open opinions about each other which we always made sure the other knew. I was the one always chatting, mailing, music, writing, even in the middle of a full day of work, while he was the one fooling around, teasing, this and that, chatting (offline), then sitting at his desk, working with some word/pdf/excel documents; the seniors members seemed to notice only that part of his day, (i.e. the work at his system) perhaps, because he always managed to finish his work in time, even if sometimes somewhat imperfectly..He had a fetish for organizing; he could not do something before properly planning and organizing; his To Do lists which I sometimes helped create and execute, his excel sheets with all his personal and financial data... I used to tell him, if that got into wrong hands, he would be in a fix. He would smile and wave his hands in a gesture of nonchalance, indicating his carefree attitude. His plan for the Andamans trip, his trip to USA; last moment and yet everything done perfectly.
All that organizing and he used to call ME a smart worker... managing work, fun, chat, everything at the same time…
On of the most patient people I've known, I miss waiting for him as he was always the last to finish lunch, chewing slowly, every grain of rice a singular delicacy, not wasting much; he use to tell me that some great personality had said, food should be chewed to the extent that you don’t eat it , you drink it. He has told me so many quotes, thoughts of so many great personalities….he was really influenced by the great writers; the author Krishnamoorthy, whose views so matched Ayn Rand's, was his favourite thinker.
So many debates, so many incidents we shared, so many stories we told each other…. he read to me even his father’s notes about writing. His father had written some notes on the skill of prose. He wanted me to understand that, and perhaps use them to improve my blogs. He admired my amateur literary works, but he was frank when it came to negative comments; if he didn’t like it he said it. He was always an encouragement to me…in his absence, his memories continue to do the same…He made me relax when I was tense, always showing me what was the worst that could happen (which usually wasn’t much)…
Sometimes modest (professionally), sometimes proud, always cheerful, always calm; I have never seen him tense in all the time I have known him. He lived life to the fullest, pursued all his interests, without any regrets. He and I used to discuss this all the time; where did our interest lie; was it this software industry where we would be spending our entire professional career? Neither of us wanted to, neither of us were interested enough. He too wasn’t really technically inclined - still we survived and persisted, knowing that a cushier job didn’t exist. He too knew that to leave all this, risk the financial security that this career carries (of course now that is no longer true) was tough….I agreed..However, both of us had come to the conclusion that this job was a means to an end. An end we had to decide, a passion we had to discover, no matter how long it took. In the meanwhile, this job is there - a comfort, a way to justify the education of engineering, a way to allow extortionate spending on electronics, clothes, dinners, gifts, trips….., but all the while, the restlessness should not cease, we should continuously be searching, pondering, discovering ourselves in the process. I hope I continue doing that.I have seen him restless many a time, sometimes for days at stretch, because of the monotony around him. He would be disinterested in the work, somewhat dull, as if some deep battles were going on within the mazes of his mind. We’d have a hearty discussion on the state of our lives, the careers, the endless tedium of routine, the same people, the same team and then sometimes, we’d frame some things to do to change things. I usually didn’t go through with them, but we certainly felt better after pinpointing some actions to do.
Once the project closed, we both had the anticipation of new beginnings, and yet we were sad. Good changes always bring unwanted adjustments along with them. Projects changed, locations changed…he went onsite; the day he was leaving, he gave me a gift; we were not to meet again (at least in the near future), since I was getting transferred before he retuned. There was a melancholy in that parting; the moments we spent, sitting next to each other in adjoining cubicles, not having to move anywhere to speak out your feelings to someone who understood and empathized… they had come to an end….
He left, and after some months I got transferred; we still kept in touch, like we had when I was onsite in Beijing(for 10 days) - mails, chat. He occasionally told me, he missed the fact that when he wanted to share something with me, I wasn’t sitting in the next cubicle. I missed that too, but I never told him the same…now I never can. When I got to know about the tragedy, I was sitting in office, lots of work pending for the day; I was shell shocked and didn’t know what to do. I sat there, staring at the mails, silent - I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move, I didn’t know who to contact, I just had to get out of there. My throat got dry, I was mentally frozen; another friend who knew the person called me up; she was upset, and somehow that broke my unnatural state. I spoke to her, but words were limited…a current colleague passed by my desk, with a common joke; I somehow managed to tell him to please not start any joke; a dear friend had passed away….Another five minutes, I just sat there, robotically trying to get some work done. I asked a friend to drop me home. As I left, I told that previously passer-by colleague that I was leaving, to please tell the others; I broke down…From that instant, and for the next couple of hours or so, the tears just wouldn’t stop. His face kept flashing in front of my eyes, his smile, his voice; the harsh realization that I was never to see or hear him again was unbearable. I could not stand the loss - I had so much to say, discuss with him, so many things I needed to tell him; they would remain unsaid forever… For me the grief was overwhelming. I felt guilty smiling or laughing; that would mean I wasn’t mourning him. I felt that I couldn’t forget the tragedy, because that would mean I was forgetting him. However, now I know that the tragedy isn’t the only way of remembering him. There are better memories of him to cherish - of happy times, of funny jokes, of silly teasing, of serious thoughts. At that time, everything felt unreal. Time heals everything it is said; time is healing the wound, but he remains in my consciousness. I want him to always exist there, to give direction to my thoughts, to give clarity to my dilemmas. I wish I could be sure of a heaven, then I’d be happy that there was a second chance of meeting him again.
At this point of time, the only gladness I can feel thinking about him is that he lived a full, though unfinished life; he never left any of his desires for the future. If he wanted to do anything, he did it, be it learning karate, tabla, driving or anything else; I am happy for his soul. He has left all of us, to a distant world, where I hope he is enjoying as much as he did here; he is in a better place, then why do we mourn him? Because his absence has left a void in all of our hearts. The circumstances of his death will always distress me; I hope he did not feel much pain. It aches to imagine his cheery self in agony…I hope it was all over before he knew it..
Death brings one so much closer to life. His leaving us, made me realise how every moment is a gift - you never know when the next moment is the last. I still regret that the last time he pinged me, I was busy in office and couldn’t chat; I wish I had taken out the time. Now, as I am left with nothing more to say, the thoughts just swirling around the same face, the same smile, I pray for his family; I hope they have the strength to accept the stark reality. I can almost feel that Senthil is looking up from above, reading this, smiling and saying…. “Chalo yaar”..
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