Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more
conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they
would be here forever?
I wish I had that chance. It is only when you lose someone,
that is, when you realize how much that person meant to you. I am left with no
words to say and hundreds of feelings to express but none can be said without
hoping that I wish I had just one more chance to hear the voice, to just hear
the words and have few more thoughts to exchange with him before he left us
with this gaping hole of absence.
I call him the Teacher though he was more than that for me,
for everyone.
He was a mentor and my tutor for as long as I can remember.
His values, his principles, his thought process was so noble and
straight-forward that he taught me more than any teacher of my school.
A man of
simplicity and humility, he had no air or any pride. He was soft-spoken and everyone
respected him. He was honest, a man of values and full of love and affection
for his family. He adored his grandchildren and always beamed with pride when
he mentioned both the sons and daughter-in-laws. For him, his family was above
all.
I have all
my best and most cherished memories revolving around him. For me the image in
my mind is not of the frail, delicate man but of the one who would take me for
long walks to the park; who used to be full of joy if I would ever win any
prize in the office or stood first in the class; who would spoil me with
chocolates and random ice-cream treats; who now and then shared with me words
of wisdom.
I owe almost
all my knowledge to him. He always sensed the potential in me and made me
stretch to that point so I could excel in academics. He always encouraged me in
whatever I would want to pursue be it studies, hobbies or career related. He
gave me his full support in every decision that I ever made.
The thought
of not having him around will be a bit difficult to get used to. Time heals
grief they say, I wonder if this can ever be healed.
I will miss
his luminous presence in our family. His timely calls every night just to hear
my voice. The long awaited trips to home so I could atleast meet him.
I know it is
hard, but part of me is happy that he was relieved of all the sufferings.
I am supposed to be good at expressing what I
feel through my writings. But this is tough and somehow almost feels like
ripping your heart out.
This was not
supposed to be a tribute or a eulogy. This was intended to be part of the 12
people who impacted my life. I regret that I never wrote this any time soon for
him to read.
I read
somewhere that the world is not a wish-granting factory but if there is one
wish that can be fulfilled then I wish to hear his voice one last time. For him
to tell me that he is all good and then wish me “Goodnight Rani bitiya” one
last time.
But now this will end up being just a wish.
May you
always rest in peace.
Love you
Baba.
