Life… catches us by surprise, too often for comfort!
June 13: N messaged me from Bangalore that he’s raising a toast to Manu… and praying for his soul to rest in peace. I messaged ‘Amen’.
Manu passed away peacefully, on June 8. Shock to many, grief to many more, yet perhaps nothing more irreconcilable for his wife.
N got to know on June 9, practically woken up by the news, crying inconsolably, miserable, (silently) shocked.
Manu is N’s friend, one amongst the delicately few you make during your work years, and stay so, even after jumping several jobs, exchanging cities, getting married and living years not seeing each other.
I know N for almost 4 years now, and I’m trying to remember my touch-points with Manu through the years…
Like my first invitation to visit Manish Sea Croft to watch a DVD together and my encounter with the incorrigible ‘Peecha Karo’, that apparently was Manu’s heirloom left behind for N.
{N, let me tell you it was a precarious choice of a movie on a 3rd or a 4th Date, when your agenda would still have been to impress me with your taste(s) in books, movies, hobbies and the likes}
Now it’s a fond memory!
Marriages are once- in-a–lifetime and we strangely wish for all old, new friends to be part of our’s. Many promise to make it, many try to make it, many actually make it.
Manu made it to the wedding & the reception.
And so a faint memory of this wiry, smiling, dark-kurta clad Manu introduced by N. Here’s my friend Manu, the outrageous one…. of the ‘Peecha Karo’ fame.
Since marriage, N would often dial back to the times with Manu, mostly in the context of outrageous fun, regaling tales of camaraderie, boisterous moments & laughter, living the moment in his company, quoting Manu-isms ‘all the best to you and J K Tyres’.
A fond character emerging for me!
About 7-8 months back (last qtr 2006) Manu moved to Mumbai to join the Reliance ADAG corporate mktg. team. Done with his 2 yrs at IIM B, already having authored a book, back in the hardly changed world of corporates & brands, which he seemed to unabashedly dislike.
He made his way to The Nest for dinner one evening, sometime soon. My first real meeting with him, and looking back, easily falling into the slot of immensely likeable, genuine, matter-of –fact people – ‘no wonder N adores him so…’. Lot of reminiscing, regaling, story telling, money-talk, anecdotal recounting of Anil- bhai and Tina- bhabhi, and of course, the tale of ‘Peecha Karo’.
And I wonder and N agrees Manu forever is a true man–of-the-soil.
Days and months pass. We frequently talk about Manu, I often inquire after him and N confers to call him over for meals more often, since he’s living alone in Mumbai.
2007 happens and my ‘break’ commences. Manu agrees to have dinner with us sometime in February. We call the Mohans over too. Manu arrives with a bottle of wine. Sanjay pays a surprise visit hearing Manu’s over (Am sure he’s glad he did so – his last with Manu i reckon!).Some surprising bitching about peers, bosses, corporate- fallacies ensue. I wonder - wow this guy brings out the beast in everyone!
The evening advances and the Mohans arrive. Manu seamlessly blending it into an evening of laughter & many tales told, sitting in the living room corner, on my blue floor cushions, working slowly at his drink, next to the shelf lined with books.
Manu clearly loved the limelight of storytelling.
I remember my hostess’ instinct noticing Manu as the only one enjoying the home made ‘choler –daal’ and rice while the rest of us also savored the ‘varied’ parathas ordered in from khane khaas. Silently acknowledging his inclination for home food being ‘away’ from home and I remember telling myself we should have him over more often.
By now I’m clearly very fond of this genial friend of N’s.
If only we’d known that was to be his last meal with us. And the last meeting.
N, I know this and a lot more bothered you (apart from the loss itself) and you did the right closure in Bangalore! A closure, an acceptance of Manu's physical absence and of never ending love for him for the rest of your life.
I’ve often thought about the series of feelings one goes through when a close one dies. My personal experience when a friend died almost a decade ago taught me a few more. Sharbani died and I was mean to her in my last exchange with her, Sharbani died and I had no clue she was harboring a deadly disease, Sharbani was at her Mom’s and I thought she should visit me and the same does not apply to me, Sharbani died and I was away the whole day caught up in make-believe- corporate busy(ness), Sharbani died and I didn’t know till the dusk of the day when everything about her was ashes. I wasn’t there, I didn’t know, I was proudly oblivious. And my last loving memory of her standing benign & beautiful; at her first floor balcony patiently smiling at my jibe for not visiting me.
It is a lifelong cross of guilt I carry with me, surprisingly finding outlet in tearful confessions during training sessions on ‘ what could I redo if I had a chance…’, to my own chagrin, forever, never excusing myself of the guilt of callousness.
What an expensive way to learn to give to each relationship as if it were the only, the last meeting; to every friendship fully in that moment; to every elder the due sincerity & attention; for I dare not carry another cross, ‘coz the cross that I carry leaves no room for one more.
This life's surprise has left me no option but to say this to her here, on my blog-space 'I love you Sharbani, despite my last jibe of insensitivity'.
