Javaay....

Picture: The Death of Socrates: By Jaques Louis David

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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.