The Delight
That is what Poolak means.
He was in charge of RSS - Rate Setting System in Citi Tokyo. He was bald and had a round face-n-body when I first met him in the Aug of 2000. I was fresh out of MBA college, stepping into the world of Finance, of which I understood less than I understood of Dickens and Voltaire. Yet there I was.
My desk was right next to him. I wanted to reach the top in the shortest possible time - exponential was my intended trajectory. He was very happy to be seated next to mine with an intended trajectory of a lark - efficient in working but happy to go wherever life took him. While I was busy traversing the political world of Citi, saving myself from a dagger or two as I climbed fast .... he was inconsequential in my climb and rise. I was happy to lead projects to clean and efficient conclusion and noticed him because his component to the project was always delivered before time and with no glitches ever. I also occasionally noticed that he laughed a lot. Laughed at the slightest provocation and he loved British humour. He had very eclectic literary tastes with no appearance of it - in fact quite the contrary. You knew him only after you have gulped down a few coffees with him.
Years passed by, he remained, I left..... and life took over as our path again crossed in Singapore. He again remained in the outskirts of my fiery existence in this city state till he chose to contract the dreaded disease of cancer. Somewhere it shook my being. I have known him on and off work, a colleague and a friend, in smiles and in tears through 21 long years. He was a part of the canvas of my life for too long a time.
I visited him in the odd hours of an afternoon - alone, as soon as I heard. I could not keep him in the outskirts. I could not wait for a proper time to visit. I could not wait to ask permission for a convenient time for me to visit. I could not wait for someone to accompany me for the visit. I just went.
The fragility of life vibrated in front of me.
His fears, his hopes, his shiver at the mention of prospective pain while chemo started.
The fragility shone in front of me.
There he was all bare, naked with his deepest fears trembling in his eyes, his life slipping out of his hand. I fought hard to see the blue sky past his still bald head. His constant jokes, so much a part of him, pained me even as they inevitably made me laugh out loud. What was an uncertainty to him, was a certainty visible to me. They were forced to decide to leave for India at long last.
The last three days of his stay in Singapore was in our house. I must have done something good in my life to be gifted with those moments. We canceled every thing we had for those 3 days. We talked of our families, the parts that hurt and the parts that gratified. We talked of and watched the funniest British comedy shows and rolled in laughter over the Sub Prime crisis. When he ate only the cashew nuts from a mix of Almonds and Cashews, I questioned him on his choice of whites over browns and he replied he loved Trump. He took the whole day to drink a cup of cold coffee - in his case, the coffee "unfortunately turned warm" instead of a lament over the opposite phenomenon.
As he finally limped slowly out of the lift towards the car waiting to take him to the airport, his smile seemed to fade and quiver. As he slowly lifted his operated leg to fit inside the car, his smile trembled in his eyes. As the door was about to close, I could not stop myself from giving him a long and tight hug. He held me and his voice trembled as he said, "Amar bhishon kanna pachhe Sulata."
There are many goodbyes in life.
Some stay etched for eternity. For inexplicable reasons.
posted by Tuya @ 22:47
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