Monday, December 24, 2012

Day 359/366

He's 53 today, wherever he is, enjoying his glass of Laphroig. God knows where he found that brand of whiskey but I'm sure it's good.

What a man he was. Had he been around today, I'd have given him 53 hugs and 53 kisses on the cheek, and then multiplied it by infinity.

A kind soul, a loving friend, who left us too early. But then, the heavens have always called on their favorites first. And to everyone who had the opportunity to know him, he was nothing less than that. He was my favorite. As was Ma, of course. But he had a different charm about him - the Old Spice, the Bengali newspapers where I would be made to read out all the articles that had 'chai' in the headline, the visits to Darjeeling and Kathmandu and Puri, that seemed to be the best family holiday spots at the time.

He was too young, gone too early for anyone's liking. But he went with dignity, with an admiration for the world and all it has to offer - something that I'm glad has stayed with me.

I started believing that good things happen at the wrong time. At least, that was how it was after he left, for the good things were too few and feeble compared to the times I shared with him. Still, you can't always have things your way. When the worst nightmares become a reality, you have no choice but to confront them. And I doubt he'd have it any other way. He was a man of strong character, a loving father and husband and son. The memories seem to lose their clarity with time. But he knows he'll always remembered, he'll smile down and protect us no matter what the circumstance.

Happy 53rd, Papa. It's a shame we didn't get to see you celebrate. I love you.