On losing a friend

Dear readers,

2 days back, I lost a dear friend to death. It hurts so much.

There’s numbness, sadness, anger, denial, and a bottomless pit in my stomach. A sinking feeling of doom that refuses to go away. I don’t even have complete details at this point to make sense of this and it feels difficult to imagine how life would be without him.

In this state of shock and utter emptiness, I try to remember his face & his voice. I can see his laughter, if I try hard enough I can also hear it. It starts to ache very soon right after. To hear the trailing echoes of his comforting voice with his very peculiar intonation.

But when I try to remember his face, I see his various avatars. I don’t just see one face, but a series of really fond memories of the 7-8 years we had together that flash in front of my eyes. I see all my friends gathered around him in a rough circle. It is either a courtyard setting, or a dorm room. He is probably trying to crack a joke or mimic his perception of a moment he found really funny, and it is just about to make everyone burst into a chortle. Actually, I see that we are all in the middle of a banter and he is trying to land a joke or pull one of our legs, expecting others to return the favor. I can remember his peculiar laugh and the huffing & pausing in his voice when he was describing something. I sit here trying to pick up pieces of these memories and comfort myself.

But I am fearful, that I might lose the ability to recollect vividly my time with him and our friends as time passes by. I write this, a little selfishly, lest I begin to forget how I perceived him. All of us our centres of our own universe, and have different coping mechanisms with life. And in my universe, I think only by writing about him can I really let this pain pass through me, for now.

So this is my ode to his beautiful life, as I saw it through my eyes. And the way I want to remember him.

My lovely friend had a crazy afro. He was close to 6 ft and was a powerhouse of talent. He had this little paunch that he refused to accept was visible. He was innately perceptive, very quirky, as creative behind the camera as in front of it, and would make your jaws hurt with his jokes. He also had a wide ear to ear smile and experimented quite a bit with his glasses - those changed quite a bit - I think every 6 months or so. He had an abstract sense of style, one that reflected in everything he did. The world was his collage book, and I think he got a kick out of piecing stories together. He was an observant storyteller. He loved capturing the world through doodling, sketching, digital art, pictures, murals & grafittis, and was really adept at drawing portraits. I always admired his distinctive style and his modest, unassuming sense of self. For me, he was the definition of cool. He was ingenious.

His sense of this world was different from others, you could see that in the way he framed his pictures or even his powerpoint presentations. ‘Visual poet’ comes to mind. I know if I said this to him, he would have cringed hard but secretly loved that he got this compliment. There are people who have the ability to capture the world through their eyes and really transport you to that place, making you feel the thickness in the air. He was one of those. So original & sublime.

He would pull your leg in one instance, breaking the group in a symphony of laughter but at the same time, make fun of himself too. His mannerisms stood out to me the most. He had this meandering walk, a casual one. He would dance goofy but quite endearingly. He would celebrate others’ joy and would be quite awkward in comforting you if you ever went to him with a problem. But he would comfort you eventually and give you his unsual solution to that problem. You would never implement that solution but you would wonder how his creative brain worked.

I considered him to be one of those people you expect to be doing big, grandiose stuff in life. The kind that makes a dent in the universe. I know a lot of us thought like that about him. He had this flair, certainly.

He exuded this magical kindness. He would feel deeply but would not show it as often as he felt it. But he never shied away in expressing his admiration for things that piqued his interest or things he found cool and experimental. His second name was cool & experimental. And he would go to great lengths to find these 2 things in life.

I have some really fond memories with him. This one time I convinced him that he would look great if he let me style his hair. To my utter surprise (and a wee bit pestering), he let me straighten his curls. My gang & I had gathered around for a spectacular f*ck up, I think everyone thought I would burn his hair or something. No harm was caused to the curls thankfully, though he did stop every 0.5 seconds to look into the mirror, interrupting my process. We did eventually straighten all his hair & he looked great (according to me). I cannot recall if he really liked it or not. I think if he did, I would remember it. All I remember is that all of us laughed A LOT.

This other time, he made a graffiti on his ‘all boys’ college hostel wall. It was a London-esque red & white telephone booth. When I asked why he chose a telephone booth, he simply mentioned he found it to be really cool. And then he made one more & one more and then another one. Those red brick walls are still covered in his art, and I think we got really lucky to see some of his work in action at the time.

During COVID, as we were catching up with each other and rigorously bouncing business ideas off of each other, it was striking to me how our worlds collided at that time and he wanted to start a clothing business with me. The idea was to bring Indian prints to the fore. We jammed on it & pruned the idea. I quite liked the ring of it and worked out the economics of it. Life moved fast & we never ended up launching it but we were quite excited to do limited editions and dreamt our way to a store even. I wish I had done this project with him. I wish..

Once I started my nutritionist course 2 years ago, I happened to mention it to him and it made him really curious as to why I had picked it up. I told him about my love for cooking and marrying it with nutrition to feed my palette & also my body. I wanted to help myself and then my friends & family. This idea really stood out to him and he was kind enough to promise that he would be my client and would want to work with me on his nutrition. How I wish I had seen this through with him.

Very recently, about 3 months ago, I told him that I would love for him to work with my fitness coach, something I don’t ask of everyone because of how closely people’s self esteem is related to their physical appearance. But I knew he would graciously tell me if it bothered him. It didn’t. We spoke about this at length. But life happened and as we got busy with work, it again turned out to be one of those things that we didn’t see through.

Today, as I am reminded of all these unfinished projects we were supposed to do together, I blame myself for not having followed up enough, or caring enough to that end. It feels really shitty. It feels as if I have failed as a friend. It feels utterly terrible in my bones..

So here’s my plea to you, please tell your loved ones how much you love them. Please see through projects with them, for them. Please read between the lines and reach out even if you think it is not your place. Please show that you care as often as you can.

I have borrowed parts of him that are now a part of me. He taught me how to laugh unapologetically, and on yourself. To not take life too seriously. To strive to put your creative ideas out in to the world. And find beauty in the ordinary. He inspired me to make more art and told me to not stop creating because he loved that I was experimenting with different art forms. The pieces I thought were awful, he really liked. Perhaps, he saw beauty in places I couldn’t.

He has certainly taken parts of me with him. There’s an emptiness inside. And every time I gather with my friends henceforth, this emptiness will shroud us again. Such is his indelible mark on us. He had every one in his awe & all of his connections were really meaningful. He meant so much to so many people.

As I try to recall more of him, I fail in my endeavor. It’s painful to think that he was taken away from us so early. Such is life’s fragility & uncertainty. You think you can play by the rules and lead a comfortable, happy life and it sneaks up on you at the most unexpected time.

This unpredictability reminds me of how delicate our existence truly is. This fragility extends beyond our physical selves to our relationships, careers, and dreams. Yet, it's this very impermanence that makes life so precious, I think. The knowledge that nothing lasts forever.. and to cherish & celebrate while we have the time.
So please tell your loved ones how you feel, pursue your passions & hobbies, and live fearlessly & authentically.

Our grief is as individual as our lives.

And it is only by grieving that I think I will overcome some of this pain. As I go through this loss & memorialise my friend in my heart, I hope that he is at peace..

As I try to accept the reality that I will never see him again, I do know that looking back on his work, his life & his time with us will only spark joy & happiness. As time passes by, I have been told it will become easier. But it feels really unfair at the moment. Why him?

His lovely wide grin will always be etched in my heart, which is so heavy at the moment. We will all remember him so fondly, so lovingly. I hope he knew that he was so madly loved, respected & admired by everyone.

We love you so much.
We always will.

Love,
Ishita