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.

A Time for India

“I don’t like the soup Sudhir” SC whispered next to me. “Let’s just get through with this S… We can leave after this” I consoled him. He and I were due for a dinner date. We were all sitting at Kamat Bugle Rock. “This is the book I’ve co-authored” Lakshmi said as she passed a copy around the table for everyone to see. I remembered the first mail she and I had exchanged after we had gotten back in touch – after a life-altering span of over two decades. She’d mentioned about it in her mail. Lakshmi, Bala, Shashi, Vasantha, Meena and I had gathered in Bangalore to muse over the nostalgia of a bygone era – our school days. (May be I’ll write a separate post on the reunion).

“May I have a copy of it Lakshmi?” I asked “I didn’t find it in any bookshop”. “Of course Sudhir. You won’t find one in India probably” Lakshmi replied. She expressed her disappointment over the review KB Ganapathy (I hope I’ve got the spelling right Lakshmi!) had written in Star of Mysore where Lakshmi had worked many years ago. As I left early from the reunion gathering, Lakshmi handed me an autographed copy of her book.

I didn’t immediately read it. I had just started reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I also had False Impression (J Archer) to read. I thought I’d read ‘A Time for India’ at leisure. When I spoke to Lakshmi last she asked me “How did you find it?” “Watch my blog. I’ll post a review”. This is an attempt to keep my promise.

“A Time for India” is written by Dan Ellens and Lakshmi has contributed several chapters to it. The book largely is about Mr. Ellens’ two year stay in India and his experiences of living/working/travelling here. Lakshmi chips in with her insights into the Indian history and culture. It is difficult to ‘slot’ this book into any particular genre. Sometimes I felt it was an attempt at writing a travelogue and at others it was like an introduction to India to the uninitiated Americans.

Dan Ellens’ enthusiasm to write about his India Experience is palpable. He definitely has a story to tell too. There are several interesting anecdotes too that bring a smile (or even a chuckle or two). And, one soul-searching question – when his son Kirk assumes that he’s a native and not an expatriate. But all these things fail to hold the book together. The reader’s interest waxes at times and wanes at others. What could have been a winner on the lines of ‘The Inscrutable Americans’ turns flat. It appears that Dan doesn’t have a flair for writing. He doesn’t have the vocabulary of an author. Even the funniest of encounters he has experienced turn prosaic due to a lack of imagination in his narrating style. At times his writing borders on the banal and resembles an India Travel Guide penned in a tearing hurry.

Condensing the entire history and culture of India into a few chapters (of not more than 6-7 pages each) is not a task that many would venture into. And the onus to do it for this book is on Lakshmi. It would be unfair to criticise her efforts as she tries to provide as much information and as succinctly as possible. But one can’t expect those few pages to do justice to either the vast history or the humongously rich and diverse culture of India. It can be noticed that very little of South Indian history is written about in the book. And of North Indian society or culture. It surely wouldn’t be an oversight. It’s natural that Lakshmi would focus on the South Indian culture (Tamil to be more precise) when she writes about Indian culture (the chapters on religion and customs). But Lakshmi your narration at times is way too pat when giving live examples of current India – you sure could’ve come up with something better than naming people Ram and Shyam!

The book doesn’t become a racy read either. Dan decides to club all similar things together. Like his travels around the country, all the festivals he celebrated, the culture-curry, etc. Had an attempt been made to write it chronologically than being laconic and had it also recounted some of the experiences of the other family members too (Cathy and the children – though the author mentions in the preface that they would every evening share their day’s comical experiences at the dinner table they don’t appear in the book), the book certainly would’ve been more enjoyable. Also I found the constant reference to lizards extremely unfunny and jarring.

Then there are several factual errors in the book. Bhutan, for one, was NEVER a part of India. And Vijayanagar Empire was founded in South India and not Central. The Buddha lived in the 6th Century BC. I would have loved to argue also about the ‘theories’ that have been made use in the book while reconstructing the Indian history. But then Lakshmi wasn’t writing a history book. And she does have the liberty to choose the theory that fits her best.

If only Dan had a better editor the book could have been turned around, rewritten a bit and rearranged a bit more to make it interesting, witty and a wonderful account of living in India. Then I wouldn’t have had to disappoint Lakshmi with my write-up on something close to her heart. Certainly this is not the vehicle for Lakshmi to showcase her writing talents. All she has to do is to dive deep into her own rich experiences (including teaching English to children in Mysore) to write a wonderful book. I hope she’ll consider that and oblige us with an independent work of her own!