Dear Vinod,
Do you remember when we first
met. I think it was in Prep School; you were eight and I was nine. It could
have been earlier, after all our parents were acquainted. However, it is Prep
School that I remember. Even then you
had the knack of seeing the funny side of things. Remember the skit you staged
making fun of a teacher we did not care so much about. The climax was the best
part. The annoyed teacher was supposed to catch you by the ear and yank you off
the stage. Eventually it was one of the girls from the senior School that did it.
And she did a rather thorough job of it.
After three
years or so in Sanawar you left for Doon but we were back together in
Jamalpur. Those were the days when we
were searching for new ideas and developing our worldview. So much of the time went in discussing
philosophy, poetry and science and engineering. You could never resist quoting
Eliot and reading Kipling; and I would try to fit it all into the scientific
ideas of the day. Art and Science, I think we learnt much from each other. Then
there was jazz, and Willis O’ Connor on the VOA. Those were the days of
transistors. We could barely catch the signal but we listened all the same and
enjoyed it.
I remember
placing before you a sort of goad and saying, “We discuss so much but can we
put together a chart of ones future actions or goals.” You thought for a moment
and said, “Why not” and finding no paper opened a Charminar packet and made a
net work on its back. It started with,
‘the dopes we are today,’ and ended with ‘sad demise after finding lasting
solution to world peace.’ Perhaps you
have found that solution now; but knowing you, I am sure you will find
something funny in it too. Dear friend, I still have that Charminar packet with
me. I don’t know why I preserved it; perhaps to remind me of the time we spent
together.
I remember so
clearly the letter I received from you in hospital after my injury. It
contained a resolution of support from the SAMs and of course your letter. Kitty and me read it and laughed; you could
find humor even in our situation. We felt so much better. Thank you dear
friend.
Dear Anita,
I do not know
if you recollect how Kuku introduced me to you. He came to our Malcha Marg flat and asked for the telephone. He
dialed a number said a few words and handed the phone to me. I did not know who I was talking to, and
finding a strange girl on the other side of the line assumed that Kuku was up
to one of his tricks. I made some polite conversation and got out of the call
as fast as I could. As I put down the
phone he said, “You hung up. That, sir, was the girl I am going to marry.”
Of course,
just before you left for Nepal you rang me up and wished me happy birthday,
which was next day. Said how sorry you were to be away and added that you would
make it up by a big hug on return.
Unfortunately
that was never to be. O how I wish I could with fate conspire and rebuild
things nearer to my hearts desire.
(
This obituary has been written by Mr. Sarabjit Arjan Singh ’61)