Pritam's Blog
Closure
Someone in my locality passed away the other night.
The sudden, loud outburst of emotions woke me up. For a moment, I thought someone had been murdered or something. The last six years have changed us, I guess. You hear noise, you hear people yelling and screaming and crying, and the first thing that occurs to you is that some violence has broken out.
Anyway, once I realized that it was a natural death, I decided to go back to sleep. Death doesn’t move me, usually. But I couldn’t sleep that night.
For no reason, I remembered my childhood friend, Bishal who died a couple of years ago in a road accident. We were in the same class and used to take the same auto to school. That’s how we became friends.
We had drifted apart after school which is fine. It was the last conversation I had with him that was bothering me.
An year or so before he died, he had messaged me asking me to make a free sketch of someone. I was still a student and he was already working. So, obviously, I was expecting him to pay. But he said, “How could you charge your friends?” I said, “Friends are the ones who are supposed to support you the most, especially when it comes to these things. And if you think otherwise, you are not a friend.”
That was the last time we spoke. I don’t regret saying what I said to him. But I wish this wasn’t our last conversation.
The second person I remembered was Fr Ambrose Pinto. Bangaloreans would probably know this Jesuit priest. He was extremely vocal about socio-political issues. I came to know of him through my teachers at SJC where Fr Ambrose Pinto too used to teach before he was transferred to some other Jesuit institute. I had sent him a friend request and he accepted it.
Back in those days, I was very active on Facebook. He had read some of my posts and messaged me one day, “It would be wonderful meeting you sometimes. There is so much of genuineness and openness to reality in what you have written in some of the pieces. You must be a great guy.”
I am not a great guy but coming that from someone I looked up to with so much respect was a big deal. I so wanted to meet him. I thought I would… some day. I didn’t know that he was dying. Cancer as far as I remember. He passed away a few months later.
The third person I remembered was Rinku da, our neighbor. My parents’ neighbor to be precise.
Ever since we moved to our new house in 2005, Rinku da had been a constant in our lives. The guy used to call my father Mama. He wasn’t a bad person but I never liked his attitude. Over-friendly, no sense of boundaries. But then again, that’s how most of the people are in that small town…
Anyway, Rinku da was always available for my parents. He used to guard the house when my parents were out of town or something. When my mom was sick, he helped my mom a lot. He would help her move around, tie her shoes. Things like that.
A month or so before this COVID thing started, I was traveling from my hometown to Agartala to catch a flight back to Bangalore. Usually, my dad accompanies me till Agartala. But this time, he was busy and so, he asked Rinku da. I was so pissed off. Like I said, I never liked him.
Anyway, I pretended to be sleeping and ignored him all through the 5-hour long journey. He dropped me at the airport and then left. That was the last time I saw him. He died in June. Stroke.
Death doesn’t move me and I still don’t regret anything. I just wish I had closure with each of them.