Two weeks ago my friend started his eternal journey and I am feeling a bit lonely. I know it is okay to feel lonely as we are all lonely in our journey, but we presume companionship continue for ever
I have never called him by his first name and I called him by his second name and I do not want to reveal it here and he was friend to me and it will ever remain so.
Here I am not writing any Eulogy, but just expressing true feelings and thoughts about a friend and a friendship that I had cherished. A friend with whom I can disagree, agree and even quarrel.
Human beings are bundles of good and bad, evil and virtuous , fair and unfair. So too was my friend, but he was so lovable, so human and above all a friend who was there when you needed him the most.
I feel the void.
What I am reflecting here is not something tragic or sad, it is something about our predicament and the awareness of the fallibility of all those things we call success or defeat.
I met him for the first time in 1983 January at Santha book stall, where I went to buy Ambika Shanmugham’s (Author), biochemistry. Just a casual meeting. He had joined TD medical college after he got a transfer from another college. He had already done a year in Ayurveda college, before moving into modern medicine.
We walked over the bridge, crossed the canal and reached Mullackal temple and joined the niramaala (Aarthi).
I was at that time residing at St George, Alleppey.
Then on not much contact, except a few times outside the gate of medical college for a medical strike, when he did the “ fasting ritual “ imposed by the seniors. The seniors spared me becuase of my fraility.
I moved to Bangla (a hostel – we called the the two men’s hostels Bangla and Pakistan for no reason) later and he was already a senior there and he welcomed me.
I found my home and companionship away from my village and freinds there.
One early morning, I got up . May be I had a nightmare about Biochemistry and being chased by one of those carbon radicals hanging on to the innumerable cycles (citric, pyruvic, etc) we “learnt to ride”. I thought I will study something and it was about 3 AM. I got out of the room to get some drinking water and in the next room, there this faint light from bed side lamp and it was from my friend’s room. There was this noise from the room as if someone was eating something. I knocked at the door and my friend opened the door and there he was standing with that innocent smile and a steel plate in his hand full of “Aravana payasam (Prasad from Sabarimala) .” He told me “Njaan alaam vecch eneettathaa … vallom padikkaam ennu vichaaricchu … pinne…” (i got up using aalarm…thought will study something…but)
Then asked Edo thanikk veno …” (Do y ou want some).
I was surprised, it was the first time I was seeing someone who used an alarm clock to get up and eat Aravana payasam in the early morning hours.
There and then I knew he was someone who enjoyed, whatever he did and he did it with passion.
I shared the bliss of “Aravana payasam” and then on the friendship.
Then the journey through the med school. Its politics, unnecessary competitions, the struggles to be visible and the friendships that withered and flourished
I was the noise making General secretary and he was a silent Chairman. The burdens of that were not pleasant for us, but we carried it and left it there.
We had our difference of opinions there. Our gain was friendships beyond the batches…and there were many. The meaning and intensity of our friendship were different with each other.
We always had another friend and he is in UK. He was part of the companionship we offered for him in his last few months.
Of course like any other human being I have disagreed with him and I did disagree with him even here in the UK. My drawback in interactions have been my sensitiveness and I do not think I want to change it nor can I change it.
I will take that flaw to my grave.
Now there is no question of looking back to say “I was right or I was wrong” for right and wrong are so time dependant and actually we all live life just by instincts and making mistakes and correcting them.
This relentless corrections and reflections we call life.
No one has taught us how to live, but we live and at one point someone may say, whether it is about my friend or me, “he too lived here”
Yes so too was my friend…he too lived here… and now lives in our hearts.
He had this vast knowledge about food and by tasting food he could tell the ingredients and the type of food and from where it came, even with closed eyes.
I remember the pillion rides on his bike to a small shop near Alleppey town, where we get Jilabi late night. He will finish something in med book and ask me to go with him the town. I enjoyed every bit of that travel.
He was a very good student, unlike me who was erratic in gathering knowledge. He used to teach us difficult topics in med and always used colour papers (Notice paper- as we called it) to write when he studied.
Then the movies and ride back on fish transporting tipper lorries. I remember the travel back to hostel after watching ‘Panchagni”. We were so animated in our talks about atrocities of capitalism and the “kili (Assistant to the driver) who was also at the top of the lorry, who listened to our arguments said ‘dont forget to live”, when we got down at Vandanam.
Wise words from a fish monger… and did we listen ?
Yes we did …or did we not ?
The smell of fish on our attire still lingers in pleasant memory
Then the house surgency etc. I lost my way but he found his and got into ortho and did well. Found his life partner , got married. He has two sons. He came to UK in 1994 and I came in 1998.
We kept in touch regularly. somewhere he had lost his vigour to fight through life and fervour to full fill his ambitions. He was becoming more of a private person than before. More reclusive and found solace and happiness in the companionship of his family and he did not want to share
I do not know why and I have not asked him. We drifted away for a bit and about three months back we got together again.
He looked tired and had lost weight. Investigations were inconclusive initially , but late September he was given the diagnosis of a serious condition, a terminal and fatal illness.
I was always told not tell anyone about him. So I did not, but I suffered the pain. I remember a friend asking me about hims and i said without looking him in the eye , “ I dont have any contact”.
My family and three close friends were there to support him through the last few months and I am sure he appreciated it.
Before he passed away, he had settled all things he needed to and told his son that he just did not want any formal rituals and asked his sons to ask me to supervise the last Hindu rites
I am not a priest or well versed in any rituals. i have my philosophy about life and that is just confusion.
But I felt grateful, privileged and scared that he had put me on a pedestal, which I did not deserve. But i decided to respect his wishes.
On the day he passed away myself and my wife chanted some hymns and and I supervised his family to do the last rites and and we all prayed for his peaceful eternal journey
I was choking… did I cry… yes… there were no holy water from the Ganges… hope my tears were purifying.
I prayed to the ultimate (if there is one or may be what or who I am- my conscience), to forgive me , if I had made any mistakes in my karma on the day or in my journey with my dear friend.
To conclude, will I forget him ?
May be there will be times when my friend will be a fading memory.
But when I close my left eye , i will see the innocent smiling face of my friend through my partially sighted right eye (i encountered an injury some thirty four years ago) for he saved whatever light is left in that eye by caring for me even before my parents could come
There is a story about mud clod and a fallen dry leaf (mannakattayum kariyilayum) going to the holy city of Kashi for salvation and moksham. One looked after the other. In rain the leaf covered the mud clod and in storm the mud clod sat on the shrivelled leaf.
Yes the storm and the rain came together as that is how it is supposed to happen in the eternal journey and the mud clod dissolved and is now part of the earth.
“Naked eye came from the womb of the mother and naked eye goes to dust.”
The leaf has a bit more to go, before the pleasant perish … I am waiting for that
Thank you, for being there…for the smile… for the agreements and disagreements.
Thank you my friend.