A Friend No More

 

 

Guru, holding me. At our last alumni meet; in front of our old MBA campus

Guru doing his favourite thing; dishing it up in his kitchen

One of the oft-shared/received message on WhatsApp/Facebook or any social media is about staying in touch with people in our lives - our families and friends.  Lest we regret that we didn't do enough while they were alive.  The regrets that one is left with whenever someone dear passes away are immense.  "I wish I had called him", "I wish I had met her one last time", "I wish I had apologised", and so on. Yet most of us do not practice it.  

Guru belonged to our quartet of friends.  He, Sumi, Benny, and I were the four who had formed this group in the very first semester of our MBA days.  And, we had continued to be the ones who always hung out together.  We were four truly disparate people, coming from different backgrounds, languages, places, and interests, and yet who had formed a deep bond of friendship.  

 It all started with Guru asking us if we would want to take private tuition for accountancy.  None of us had studied accounts in either undergrad or Plus 2, and the lecturer who handled accounts in the course didn't know what he was teaching.  So, we had readily consented - the fee was affordable too, for me.  Just Rs 300 for the entire duration.  Within a week of joining the classes we had warmed up to each other immensely, and would spend loads of time chatting post the tuition.  Everyday we would hang out together - over two rounds of tea, each time ordered, '2 by four' - at one of the rooftop restaurants near Kalidasa Road, Jayalakshmipuram, Mysore.  Sometimes - when our budgets permitted - our conversations moved to the Pelican Pub.  Guru would regale us with stories from his salad days; it was difficult to separate facts from fiction in his narratives.  And, his laughter would make us forget to ask him how much of it should be believed!

In those two years of MBA days, our quartet became famous in the University Campus, and travelled together, learnt some new life lessons, celebrated our birthdays and new years, worked on projects, shared our dreams. Soon after the course Guru was instrumental in me getting a job too.  For a good six months we were colleagues, working in the same location, pursuing same clients, and drinking together regularly.  We all stayed in touch until our paths began to diverge in different directions.  Sumi realised her dream of going to the US., Benny left for the Middle-East, Guru started working on his dream to combine water sports with tourism.  I joined the Civil Services.  Every now and then our paths crossed, and we met. Each time the connection was as good as it was when we were at the college.  

Guru was a multi-faceted personality.  He was a national-level swimmer, diver, and wind-surfer during student days.  He also was an accomplished painter, and an innovative chef.  He made his own wines too.  I still remember drinking gooseberry wine that he had brewed at home.  Guru was gregarious, and loved telling stories of his accomplishments; loads of exaggeration was invariably there, but never any hint of malice.  He told tall tales of his efforts to set up resorts in Australia to Andaman to Andalusia.  

In the last few years - after his father too had passed away, and on insistence from his mom - he had settled down in Mysore.  Ever creative, he had converted his home into a 'go-to' destination for all the foreigners coming to Mysore to learn yoga.  It helped the house was in Gokulam, the bustling yoga hub; his 'Pink House' had gained immense popularity.  

As a group we celebrated our 25 years of friendship going back to where it was all sealed. Malpe.  The four of us flew in from different destinations into Mangalore and drove together - with a pitstop at some roadside eatery which we converted to a bar - to the beach and stayed.  It felt we four would be together forever.  And, no fate would intervene. 

Even though we were so close, in the last one year we had hardly met after our alumni meet in August, 2019.  He had once come to Bengaluru and stayed with me after that; and always cribbed that I didn't call him and remember him as much as he did.  We spoke last in the aftermath of another demise last month of a dear friend and classmate, Bharathi.  We talked how we must stay closer, more in touch, and meet often.  And, yet, none of that happened.  

The new this morning - the first message on Whatsapp - jolted me (and continues to).  In the MBA Group, Guru's handle had sent a message:

'Guru Prasad no more'

I was the first to react.  What? Who's this please?

Soon, another friend from the group confirmed that Guru indeed was no more, and he had succumbed to Covid.  He was taking treatment at home for the last 15 days.  We didn't know Guru had tested positive; he hadn't shared this news with any of us.  His last message was a wish on Onam to Benny.  2020 was so far disastrous; it just turned a calamity with this news. Losing one friend was terrible; losing two is indescribably horrifying.

Rest in peace, dear friend.  I hope we will meet someday soon.  And carry forward the conversations and chats that are left unfinished.  Your smile and laughter will always be missed.  A drink will taste never as good anymore.  Nor Mysore will be as welcoming.  Will miss you, Guru, always.

Response and Reaction

Shreesha Bhat, of Akanksha messaged me casually one evening.  I had just then seen their message on instagram that the Trust was conducting a week-long workshop for young students on various topics.  Corona and times of social distancing ensures that the workshops are all conducted online.  I asked him if I could be of any use.  And, he lapped up the idea and asked if I could handle one of the sessions, most preferably, Personality Development, on Sunday.  I agreed readily.  I like interacting with students.  I had begun missing my stint at the Regional Training Centre, and those training courses that I'd design along with my other faculty.  

The Sessions (there were two sessions of roughly 1 hour and 15 minutes each, including the interactive, question and answer time) went well - even though to begin with I felt strange to look at myself on the laptop screen and address students that I could not see nor gauge their reactions to my delivery.  One of the enduring line in my sessions was about how we react to a situation, and how we must change from reacting to responding.  There were several questions too from the participants to explain the difference between the two, and how to practice it.  I confessed to them that even though I advice this I too would be caught on many occasions, reacting to a situation than responding, as desired.  Honesty certainly helps, I had mused. I had not known then that I would be facing certain litmus tests soon enough, regarding this.

 Despite the lockdown, slowly I had started returning to a routine with respect to my fitness and even exhorted Sirish, my friend and colleague, to join in.  We would go for walks followed by a session of stretching and strengthening exercises.  After a few days, Sirish became irregular.  He would either miss walking or stretching sessions, and sometimes both.  His blood pressure had begun to be on the higher side, particularly as the day progressed.  He had begun monitoring it every eight hours when he first noticed that something was amiss, and had gone on to monitor it every three hours while awake.  I wondered if it was also due to stress factors, at both home and work. He had not joined me for the stretching session last evening, but had promised to join me for the walk this morning.  

Promptly at 6:30 Sirish called to tell me he was ready for the walk.  I asked him to give me another 15 minutes.  As we went for the walk, I asked him how his hypertension was.  The response surprised me.  "It came down after the walk yesterday, and then slowly started rising up again.  By evening it was pretty high".  "But, isn't the pressure supposed to go up after exercise?", I mused aloud.  Sirish agreed too.  He also said, "If it stays up today too I will consult my friend and start medication for the time being, until complete investigation is possible post lifting of locdown".  The doubts that his hypertension was basically because of stress factors - largely his own creation because of how he reacts to situations at home and work - continued to gnaw at my mind, even though he stoutly denied.

During the regular calls we were exchanging, I learnt my sister, Kumi, wasn't keeping well.  For quite a while she had been complaining of continued body aches, and they had progressed to include small joints (in fingers, etc.).  When today I saw that she was still online at 7:45 IST, I messaged her.  "Why aren't you asleep yet?" And, she responded, "Unable to sleep because of pains".

My sister (and family) lives in the UK.  In Leicester.  Both she and my brother in law are medical practitioners (coincidentally, Sirish is a qualified medical doctor; and his wife Yamini too is a medical practitioner).  Too many doctors in my life.  Apart from these close ones, there is an assortment of doctors strewn in the family and friends circle!  Many times I also notice them talking to me as though I am one too - using every medical term known to them, without bothering to stop and explain in plebian terms what they mean.  Sometimes I interrupt and ask; sometimes I search online for the meanings.  At others it becomes evident as they continue to indulge me with further details. 

I wondered within about my sister's continued ailments.  I thought the reason she battles them frequently was because she is pretty reactive.  Maybe because she was alone with her daughter and found it difficult to manage the fears of a spreading pandemic I was casually judging her within my mind.  That instead of responding to the situation: accepting that she is unwell and calmly dealing with it, she intensely reacts with negative emotion of not wanting to go through it.  I even thought I should write a mail to her about how she is reactive, and not responsive.  

And, then the penny dropped! It was not Sirish nor Kumi that were being reactive.  It was me.  I was easily being reactive to their plight.  I was jumping to conclusions, and passing judgments on their suffering than being responsive to their need; the need for empathy, understanding, and support. It is possible they are being reactive, but it is not for me to judge that or point out.  It is for them to realise; maybe after they have first received adequate love and support while they are suffering.  It also dawned that I was being equally reactive with my parents, and they were being awfully nice by not ticking me off.  I felt silly, stupid, and slightly ashamed at my thoughts.  I understood - for the first time in a long time - what I must do now.  Just be with them, as a pillar of support and strength.  And, not a thorn of irritation and pain.  As a hand that soothes.  Not as the one that points a finger and accuses.  

In the hurry to find fault with others, it was so easy to commit so many of them myself.  All of us are reactive - unless we become aware of it.  And, it is possible we are less reactive in certain spaces, and more reactive elsewhere.  For example, I am less reactive at workplace.  I don't easily bite even the most inviting bait there.  But I am a different person at home altogether.  There could be reasons or excuses for my behaviour - valid and invalid.  But they do not matter.  What matters is the choice we make - to react to or to respond.  To empathise or to judge.  That is a good lesson to learn.  I hope I will remember it and practice it too.  Always.