Immersed in fond memories of my father who left us two years ago this day, I recall a few wise words addressed by him to me in those melancholy days. I emerge out of thought invigorated and revitalised.
With Friendship Day just behind us, I consider myself blessed with a couple of friends who have been with me through thick and thin; I believe they do not know me less than I do myself. As my father’s condition deteriorated rapidly, I was broken and lonely. I was apprehensive about losing the hallowed presence of my darling father whose heart was set mainly on me in the fag end of his life. Soon, the moment arrived when he had to be taken to the emergency ward, never to return.
His magical words were, “Never feel that you are alone, because you are not!” This was preceded by a prescription: “Harish, you shall not take your father to hospital alone,” implying an unstinted support. It was his first ever assertion about the symbiotic bond we both shared and felt, but never spoke about in the 43 years we had known each other.
Good times draw numerous fake friends, and real enemies, they say; but it is only in our bad times that people show their true colours. A friend indeed has an unqualified right to persuade or dissuade you when it is a must.
I recall an incident in the early 90s, when circumstances drove me and Mr ‘B’, another friend, to different departments in Kolkata. Both our families were not from town, forcing us to share an accommodation. As I was notorious for not giving enough importance to my appearance, the very first morning we were about to leave for office, he ordered, “You shall polish your shoes and shave daily”. I did not bother.
Third day, when we were having bed tea in balcony, he showed me my shoes which he had just polished. “I did it, so you feel ashamed and do it yourself in future.” Pointing to the brush, eraser and shaving cream, he added, “After the tea, proceed to the next item on the agenda!”
One evening, Mr ‘B’ told me that his close colleague, Mr Sircar, was no longer on talking terms with him as he had denied him a loan for investing in share market. “But you easily could have,” I interrupted. Mr ‘B’ continued, “I told him loud and clear, if you need it for family needs, I shall offer you double that amount, but not for buying shares. I shall rather hold the hands that do so!”
Another incident from Shantikunj, Haridwar also relates to his magnanimity. Mr ‘B’, lodged in a different room appeared near ours with some books he had just bought. He told us that he had to cut short his visit and return to Delhi immediately. Glancing at the books in his hand, I remarked that two of those were really worth reading. He passed the two on to me, saying he had already read them.
As Mr ‘B’ departed, I saw him from my window on the second floor, entering the bookshop. He must have been purchasing the same two books he had just lent me, I can bet.