Monday, July 25, 2005

Requiem



Bharat's gone.

I can't believe it, it's not real. Even after two days, every ten minutes or so, it suddenly hits me again. And again. And again. I'm thinking of a funny story, telling someone about our crazy days together, and saying, "Bharat is this totally something guy..." and suddenly I realise that he isn't any longer - he was.

It's unreal. An Omen-ish quality of nightmare: blue skies and light wood and sunshine and laughing people getting on with their lives and all the while, a voice inside me is repeating no NO NO it's a mistake it can't be true it's a horrible horrible mistake and I'll wake up tomorrow and the world will be normal again and all 7 of us will be whole and alive and still ready to conquer the world - as we were 7 years ago, the unstoppable team ready to change the universe. And all the while, in my head, a refrain plays itself over and over again: And then there were six.



How long it's been, the road we've travelled together. Seven years ago, seven kids set out to conquer the planet. We were kings, lords, the world was our oyster and we knew we could do anything - anything at all; we were family, we drank together and starved together, and burnt the candle at both ends together and pulled each other through rough patches. And when the year was up, we still held on to the threads, wherever we were, as went our own ways. And now there are only six, scattered, shattered, drawn together in a virtual group hug of sorrow and solace and shared tears and memories - team days and team building, but Bharat's not here, never will be and oh god it's so unfair and pointless and stupid and there's nothing anybody can do and the world no longer makes any sense.

I don't know whether I believe in the immortal soul. But I think I believe that somewhere, Bharat's sitting on a cloud in the sunshine. Drinking some good whiskey, smoking a cigarette, relishing his butter chicken. Looking down to tell us, "chalo, koi nahin." And as squints into the sun and takes a drag on the cigarette, he slaps his thighs and laughs out loud - with his particular guffaw - at the absurdity of the world.

9 comments:

Itineranting said...

Dont know what to say. Wish I could be there for you babe. Talk to me.

inmyeye said...

You don't remember me, but I remember you. You were LCP Cal when Sahil was LCP A'bad if I am not mistaken. The year D Singh was President. I am talking about the teams of '96 - '97. I was handling ER that year.

Bharat and I were at NLDS '95 together in Ooty as was Mally. I would have met you guys at Sahil and Damini's wedding had I not been laid up in bed with high fever.

Thanks for making the blog for Bharat. Though I barely new him, I feel miserable about what happened. The kinship that we learn in AIESEC makes us so vulnerable at times like this.

If you know his family and get a chance to speak to them. Please tell them there are people here who remember him from 10 years ago and feel the pain of his loss.

I can't even imagine what you and his other friends must be going through. My condolences to all of you.

maverick said...

thanks for mailing me...i was literally shocked...more so because of the timing...during his honeymoon!!! May his soul rest in peace.

warya said...

i'm so sorry.

akr said...

progga?
I have not read your post. I can't. I did not read the stuff on the blog for him....skipped through it...i still push it away when thoughts enter my head...
How bizarre I stumbled upon the blog, had no clue about it...

-shakey

livinghigh said...

hey - well, this was a sombre post - something i hardly expected to bump into, on my first visit here. am very sorry for ure loss. take care and be strange.

PS; thanks for coming by LIVINGhigh

shakester said...

just read it. only now.
and pictured him the way you wrote. so perfectly.
sigh...

progga said...

That's how I'm gonna remember him, akr. Gums bared in a perpetual smile, explosive guffaw, and that strange drawl. My friend Bharat.

shakester said...

and what a lovely way it is to remember him....