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Picture: The Death of Socrates: By Jaques Louis David
Source- Google
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“Javaay”
was the word that would break my trance at the end of an hour long class. Such engaging
was his each class, my childhood hero and one of the most loveable teachers. He
used this word at the end of his class to suggest us that it was close of the
day and we could go home. Today when he
is gone, away from this world to the one from whose bourn no traveller returns,
the word “Javaay” seems even more pregnant with meaning, emotions and
memories.
Hard as I struggle I could not find English
word that exactly corresponds with this one, but, “Javaay”, roughly it can
be understood as a permission to leave. My hand instinctively reaches out to
cell phone, as it had over the last several years to call him and ask for the
correct word. Disappointment dawns with the realization that it is no longer
possible to talk to him in person. That his guidance to find the right English
word will no longer be available is perhaps the least troubling aspect of the
loss that his demise brings.
The
more significant loss comes in form of losing presence of an individual that he
was. Rib tickling sense of humour and superb comedy timing were just a couple
of traits that those knowing him briefly would also remember for their
lifetime. A few days back, I had sent him a forward on Whatsapp that read “Every man has one thing he can do better
than anyone else – and usually it’s reading his own handwriting.” “I doubt
whether doctors can” – came a snappy reply from him! And it sent me in a
bout of laughter which we usually only relate to the episodes of comedy nights
with Kapil these days.
While
looking back, there are several such sentences from him that come to mind and
make me roll in the laughter which would now invariably end in tears.
Behind
his sense of humour lay a deep sense of perspective and proportion. In an age
troubled with status anxiety and bloated egos; his presence and life were
greatest reminders of how we should live. How a cricket tournament should be followed,
how a book should be read, how papers should be assessed, how a vegetable
sizzler should be made, how a conversation should be made and so many other
things, when put together make life…… he did all that impeccably well, enjoyed
doing them and even taught others how to savour them.
It
is this wisdom of life that is biggest loss that his demise casts upon me. In
day to day life there is little that changes, but there has been a niggle
somewhere between my lungs and stomach of not having him anymore, and therefore
a fear that without him being there, I may not be able to emulate, even a small
part of the wisdom through which he lived his life.
He
had a giant built, long arms and round structure – I was short, tiny and thin;
when sat next to him I would probably not even be visible fully and when his
outstretched arm came around my shoulder while correcting my mistake I would
almost be buried under it. That touch was gentle, caring, protective,
encouraging and guiding……. That touch is now no more. Only its memory is alive.
Just as with me, there would be several memories of his
residing in conscious or subconscious of most of his students, I take
consolation in the hope that they will remain deathless.
