This is the first year he missed
…wishing me on my birthday. And this very year I don’t have him around …to
complain.
For a street in Hyderabad it was
just another road mishap that killed an august young man, for me, it was the
sudden shut down of my Confession box. My buddy was gone. Aakash as he
supposedly nicknamed himself was an ‘anytime friend’ you could call up/open up
to. A great human being, a superb friend (a true ‘yaaron ka yaar’), a caring son& a
protective brother. I was fortunate I had a sneak peek to all the faces
he put on as we journeyed together since the time I had actually shunned the
social world. His famous line still guides me: “you have to gamble to test
the pros and cons of a situation”. What a gamble!
People he spoke to will take some
time to brush aside his masculine voice. His pronunciations, his sentences
loaded with practical solutions had been awe striking.
It takes a lot of pain to write
about one of your best friends in past tense!
I met him through a friend of his
who happened to be my poetry buddy. While three of us often engaged in
collaborative poetry writing, we enjoyed our walks in a busy Laitumkhrah –Beat
House street(Shillong) churning out our collaborative poems, laughing, pulling
words from here and there, thinking of a title for the poetry. That’s where and
when Aakash and I bonded fast. Poetry led our hands and unlike the popular
belief of ‘going around’ we had our friendship blooming in our respective poems
and collaborative too.
Spending wintry afternoons at his
luxuriant home with his gorgeous mom around, I had the privilege of knowing
some great people living in the gigantic three-storied building, otherwise left
gazing at by the passers- by. Listening to him was no doubt a pleasure but to
his mom was a treat! A wonderful cook with good taste in interior
decoration& a mother who reminded me of Gertrude (D.H Lawrence’s Sons&Lovers) investing her emotion on her
children especially the scion of the family- the only son. I
never got to meet her other child: a daughter. Time swept, one fine day, I
break open the marriage proposal I had from a man known well to him& he was
as any friend would keen to know if I was sure. While I couldn’t at all give in
to a hundred percent consent, he kept reminding me I must consider it with
seriousness and that for a while must keep aside my professional workloads.
Soon in few months time I was
married. Both of us left Shillong. While I headed for Ahmedabad, he for
Kolkata. We were in touch. Gradually he became my confession box bearing all
the secrets, listening, suggesting, guiding me in ways very practical. He was
not much into holistic speech or quotes but reasoned out practically. There
were times I was certain our paths would never meet for each of us had our
careers to be hooked onto.
Call it fate, call it fortune. My
husband handed over a transfer order for Kolkata & there we were. He became
a constant star. Like any other friend he’d be around. We had great fun:
travelling, talking, picking up best writes etc. He loved food but for medical
reasons he could never have a tummy full meal. He appreciated the daal-bhaat(Pulses-rice),potol tarkari(Pointed gourd curry) I cooked ,
he relished them as “barir
khawa”(homemade
food). Destiny: it was a dinner away from his room that took him away from his
family& friends.
For not very long time, we
managed to be together in Kolkata. He left for this city Hyderabad while in a
month’s time we had a transfer back to our former location. Since then Aakash
resumed being my draft, storing chapters of my daily life.
Today as his sleeping body
reaches Shillong, that lane would mourn the death of a wonderful boy with
golden heart. While his parents are yet to know, my heart sinks at the imagined
sight of seeing his mother, my Gertrude.
Like me, many other friends of
his have lost a confession box and the mother her young son. Dreams held in her
eyelids today shall give him an eternal shower.
Rest in Peace my friend: (28/11/2012), you know I miss
you…
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