Abhijit

12.45 pm. It was a bright, hot summers day (yes, in february; manipal weather functions in inexplicable ways), the kind when all you want to do is strip naked and go for a swim, or slip into a pair of shorts and leisurely sprawl out on some beach, sipping a cold drink(or beer, if possible). I was sitting on my roommates bunk (since my own was messy beyond description and i had no inclination whatsoever to clear it up) after an unusually boring half-day when Dutta ran into the room, looking paler and more distressed than i had ever seen him before.

Hey man...bad news...Abhijit's dad just passed away.

For a moment, a split second, i thought it was another instance of the sick humour that Ayushman sometimes delights in. But the expression on his face and the sombrerity of the statement made convinced me otherwise. For a few seconds, i just sat there gaping at Dutta, with my mouth open like a goldfish. Then, it started to sink in.

Abhijit's dad just passed away...

The last said words seemed to linger in my mind, repeating like a stuck gramophone record. And with it came the full realisation...

Abhijit. Next-door neighbour. A rare combination of intelligence and diligence, coupled with a great character and sportsman's spirit. A decent guitarist and singer. A good friend.
He didn't do anything to beget this.

This i'll have to say, he took it like a man. No show of emotion, none at all. Perhaps that was because it didn't really register, or maybe because it sent him into shock, but i'd like to believe that it was a great attempt at self-control. He talked to his TG tonelessly, packed his bags, went to TC and bought a ticket to Calcutta, came back and read the Holy Bible all afternoon and evening. None of us dared to talk about what had happened. The only conversation we made was about how and when would he leave, and when would he come back, and whether or not he needed this-and-that and so on. The real issue remained unapproached.

Later as he boarded the bus that would take him to Bangalore, i pondered on how frail life is; here for this moment, gone the next. We should really make the most of what we have been given, not fool around like we usually do. Who knows what might happen next? Maybe we won't live to see tomorrow's sunrise. If that happens, i should have the satisfaction of knowing that my life served a purpose, made other people's lives better or helped someone to some degree. That purpose is yet not very clear to me; if i should die tomorow, i would have a hard time explaining what i did or what i intended to do that set me apart from the millions and billions of other ordinary people, milling about in the great mass of humanity.

This incident woke me up. The harsh realities of life are not a fairy tale. They do not exist only in other people's lives and in our imagination; they are as much a part of our life as that of our neighbours. From now on i will try to live each day as though it were my last.

How long that'll last, i have no clue.