For You, Daddy!

Friday, 15 June 2012

My Friend’s Friend

Do you know how most of you think I have a really great life and that I have fun all the time? Well, I do have a great life! I’m alive and what’s not great about that, huh?

So great – yes; fun all the time – far from it.

For those of you still not convinced, I’ll tell you a story. It’s actually a slice of my life from last year.

The title character is Bestie Boy’s friend. I will include excerpts of my correspondence with Bestie Boy. I must warn you that there is a bit of racist lingo tossed around. It is how Bestie Boy and I communicate because both of us cannot comprehend the notion of racism. We laugh at the absolute ridiculousness of racist language and that’s why Bestie Boy uses it fairly frequently only within his closest group of friends.

The main characters in this story are
Bestie Boy, Brit
Sajid, Kashmiri

 

Supporting roles:
Monique, Franco-Syrian
Steve, Brit

Sajid and Monique were Bestie Boy’s housemates at the university student house while they were pursuing their doctoral studies. Steve is Bestie Boy’s childhood friend who, like the rest of Bestie Boy’s family and close friends, was very fond of Sajid, too.

Sajid died in May 2011. A car crash victim on the notoriously dangerous roads of Kashmir.  Sajid’s birthday is four days from today i.e. 19 June. He was a mere 26 years when he passed away last year.

The following are bits and pieces of my mail to Bestie Boy as both of us dealt with the news. Bestie Boy’s text in his favourite green and mine, as always, in brown. Oh, later on, Sajid’s words are in orange. I chose that colour because I use similarly shaded saffron strands from Kashmir in my breakfast porridge. 

We still miss you, Saj.

(Editor’s Note: I do not have a Facebook account, but I have access to Bis Sis’ account because she is Friends with some of my friends.)  

Me: I read your first line and was confused. I thought you were joking, but I know that death is one of the things you don’t horse around with. When I saw the details in the link*, it began to make sense. Still, I hoped that it wasn’t the same Sajid, your friend Sajid, but when the page with the article opened up with his photograph, there was no chance of mistaken identity. I turned cold, and felt dizzy, sick. I read through the article and choked up. Next, I went to his Wall and scrolled a couple of pages down to get to when the news broke. Reading through each of those tearful posts was good because it made me cry.

*Bestie Boy had sent me the URL to the article about Sajid’s accident and demise that appeared in the Kashmir newspaper.

Me: Like you attempted, I, too, found it wasn’t easy to get on with life after I found out about Sajid’s death; not immediately, that is. Took me a whole day. On Friday,I was quiet through my breakfast and told Mum the news only at the lunch table. A few lines only because I choked up. She tried to ask some questions, but when she found I couldn’t talk, she let me eat.

Friday night, as expected, was rough. I woke up a little after 1.30 a.m. on Saturday. Came here, sat at my PC and just surfed my usual sites. Felt drowsy enough to crash again by 4.30 a.m. and was up at my usual 6 a.m. I decided to skip my(/our) usual favourite oats and pig in Sajid’s name. I needed something to feel good again. So I treated myself to my fave Sunday brekkie of egg fried sunny side up with brown bread and a thick layer of butter and cheese, and coffee with a hefty shot of Amarula. Thanks, Sajid!
I worked extra hard on my whole positive thinking drill and felt much better yesterday. I showed Mum your mail, the article and then, let her go through Sajid’s Wall. I still welled up a few times, and choked a few times when I deliberately went through his Wall several times yesterday, I feel for Siena (his girlfriend), too. Sh*t! God only knows her state.

 
Bestie Boy: I have very fond memories of Sajid, as do my family and friends who all met him and were swayed by his courteousness and genuine charm. The old rogue!

Me: Now calm down, Bestie Boy old chap, as Sajid would say. Judging by what the others have to say on his Wall, he made a good impression on every single one of them, too.  

 

You know, you have talked about his politeness, etc. a couple of times before. After I read the article about his accident (where his parents’ professions were mentioned), it made sense. In my experience in India, children of defence personnel, bureaucrats and old money are more refined than their counterparts, even if the latter are urban and more wealthy. I don’t mean this in a negative way, but it does reflect a certain class. The young scions of the wealthy today are largely loud and obnoxious. Heck, our young population the world over, is a loud, crass lot. The more money we have, the louder we get in public places. Unfortunately, all I hear is their desperate need for attention and lack of self worth.  

Writing to Bestie Boy and talking about Sajid’s shocking demise helped, but I was still restless. On Sajid’s Wall, I found a link to one of his friend’s blog posts about the accident. So I wrote to his friend, Faysal. That’s next.

 

 
20 May 2011

Dear Faysal,

I have a special request for you. I am not Sajid’s Facebook friend, or even a known friend. We have a friend in common. I would like to post the following on Sajid’s Wall, but not being a Friend, I am unable to do so. Could you please post it for me with the appropriate explanation/disclaimer?

Thank you for understanding.

Kate

*******************************

I had never met Sajid. He did not know me personally. A few years ago, Sajid became friends with my friend when Sajid went to England to study at the same university in England. This was what my friend wrote to me when he first mentioned Sajid:
 

Sajid is a law student from Kashmir. He, along with French-Syrian Monique, is my favourite housemate, purely because he is the sweetest guy that God ever created. He is so Indian in the way he speaks, thinks, expresses himself. He says things like <adopting mock Indian accent>, ‘Mmm, yes, one would expect the needs of the students to be immediately recognised by the Union.’ or some such thing. Oh Kate, he is fantastic. Plus he reminds me of you, not just because you’re both brown and skinny, but because you both have high personal moral standards. He, too, is always trying to learn the good habits of others to replace his bad ones.

A year later, when Sajid had to return to Kashmir, this is what Bestie Boy wrote to me:

It’s official. I love Sajid [Surname]. He is a saintly man. He is also one of the most useless boys I’ve met, and can barely tie his own shoelaces without help from his mother (or me, who has increasingly been filling his mother’s shoes of late), but he has a heart of gold and when he leaves the UK, I will miss him dearly. He is in Ireland now visiting Steve after his Schengen visa application didn’t come through on time (he’d originally planned to go see Monique in gay Paris); then, a short stint in Edinburgh and he flies back to Srinagar on the 12th. I don’t want him to go. 😥  

My friend continued to write about Sajid frequently, and with fondness.

I am very realistic about death. I accept that it is indeterminable and inevitable. Still, when it happens to someone I know and care about, it hurts. Like heck. Although I never knew Sajid, I was still stunned when I learned the terrible news very early this morning. It’s taken me a few hours to compose my thoughts.

 

I am grateful for the happiness Sajid brought into my friend’s life which was evident in their Wall banter. I am also grateful to have known of Sajid for a short time because I read his Wall regularly. Initially, because I found him funny. Not long after, because Sajid was one of the people who inspired me to remain steadfast in my beliefs, particularly towards injustices and unfairness. He was one of the people who made it a little easier for me to swim against the sometimes overwhelming tide of public callousness and unethical practices.

 

To Sajid’s family members, along with my prayers during this, your darkest hour, I have the following Jewish saying for you:

 

God is closest to those with broken hearts.

 

And to all of you who were lucky enough to know him more than I got to, I’ll leave you with:

 

When you are sorrowful
look again in your heart,
and you shall see
that in truth you are
weeping for that which has been your delight.
~ Kahlil Gibran

 

Sajid – Requiescat in pace et in amore.

******************************************

Faysal, thank you very much (in advance) for posting my tribute on Sajid’s Wall.

Kate


21 May 2011

Thank you VERY much, Faysal, for complying with my request. I just read Sajid’s Wall and your post on my behalf.

 

I wrote that tribute for the following people:

 

1. Sajid’s parents and sister. Their pain is … I am unable to fathom that sort of grief, much less find words for it. I hope that when their pain is dulled with the passage of time and they read all the heartfelt messages about their child here, they derive some solace from knowing that their son not only made a positive impact on the lives of the people who knew him, but also on those like me, who did not have the privilege of even meeting him.

 

2. My friend who is bleeding. I did not seek his permission to quote excerpts of his private mail to me. I hope that reading back on his own words, he will remember the good times he shared with Sajid and their group of friends. Maybe, just maybe, those happy memories will help him tide over this extremely rough patch.

 

3. All of Sajid’s friends. His sudden demise has been nothing less than shattering. I would suggest that, like me, all of you take courage in the fact that besides being a beautiful person, Sajid also worked towards goals he believed in; not wait, like many of us, for the right time or mood or the planets to align a certain way.

 

4. Myself. Although I had never met Sajid personally, hearing about him so often from my friend and laughing at their playful potshots at each other on their respective Walls, I broke down when I heard the news. So young, so full of potential, snuffed out suddenly. In addition to my usual arsenal of prayers, tears and talking to my family and closest friends, I needed to partake with the larger grieving party. It’s working. I feel a lot better now.

 

Oh, you did notice I left out Sajid’s name. Well, he’s more than just knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door, people, he’s rocking with ‘em winged ones within!

 

Thank you again for your time, Faysal. You have helped a lot of us deal with this crushing bit of reality. May God bless you.

Kate


Bestie Boy (x2)       Sajid       Monique              Monique’s friend       Steve

 

This was taken two years ago when they finished their respective exams. They treated themselves to high tea at the London Hilton. Bestie Boy is uncharacteristically tame in this shot and that naturally prompted Sajid to call him out with this comment when the picture went up on Facebook:

 

Sajid: Bestie Boy, stop it!!! Just because it’s the Hilton, doesn’t mean that you have to act all gentlemanly… 
Bestie Boy complied (well!) with that true-to-form pose that I have edited in at the bottom left corner. He was at an international event in a faraway foreign country representing England and look at how seriously he took that job. Or pretty much anything in life. Classic Bestie Boy.

Four days before Sajid met with that accident, this was the final exchange between Bestie Boy and Sajid on Sajid’s Wall:

Bestie Boy: Bloody chutney, you useless piece of fool, when is this damn wedding happening? I want in! Can you assure me there’ll be huge vats of warm ghee for me to drink? And a golden platter of chapatis to lie on? And a wall made of dhoklas? And a cauldron of your world-famous [Family Name]-Recipe kheema? If you can promise me these things, I will be there!

Sajid: Bestie Boy, you ‘MUTTON-go-YAY’! I promise you all this and more, you ‘pucking’ person with no personality, no ‘tcharisma’! That ‘damn’ wedding, as you so eloquently put it – and another one – is happening from the 27th to the 30th of May! You are …most cordially invited to both of them… Come along, old chum… Mother Kashmir is calling…

P.S.:  I will be visiting the ‘Mother Country’ between the 23rd and the 31st of July… Any chance of you gracing those lands, during those times, with your esteemed presence?

I read that several times and laughed heartily each time until Sajid died.

I’ve saved this exchange and still read it. Although devoid of the initial mirth, I still laugh because I am consoled by the fact that despite both, Bestie Boy and Sajid, jetsetting often to different parts of the globe, they kept in touch frequently and with the same warmth. They didn’t take their friendship for granted and that can be epitomised in this Nickelback song.

 
 
 


Thank you, orplesThe Book of Terriblemj monaghan and Elvierose  for commenting on my last post.

Thank you, orples and The Book of Terrible, for liking my last post.

***********************************************************************************

P.S.: Cheerful Monk adds a footnote to every post acknowledging those who comment on her previous post. She also links the commenters’ names back to their own blogs.

 I like both these practices of acknowledging the time and effort made to comment, and the free advertising! So I’m doing what I do well – being a copycat! 



 
 
 
 
 
 
Advertisements

4 Comments »

  1. Fantastic song to sum up that post.

    The relationship between Sajid and Bestie sounds like some I had when I was younger with my chums during my single days.

    It’s great that Bestie can look back on it fondly, and it helps that he has written correspondence from that time. Didn’t have FB or texting in my youth unfortunately.

    He must have been very special. You, my friend, have a very kind heart and your still waters run very deep.

    You lay yourself out there, much like MLB does. So much empathy for how others feel. Yep, it’s gonna be the death of both of you – worrying and carrying so many burdens. 🙂

    It’s always a privilege to get a glimpse into who you are.

    And lastly, because I’m me:
    “I chose that colour because I use similarly shaded saffron strands from Kashmir in my breakfast porridge. ” Um, hello Kate — random! Love it.

    That just cracked me up!!

    Like

    Comment by mj monaghan — Friday, 15 June 2012 @ 5:56 pm |Reply

    • >Fantastic song to sum up that post.
      – They’re Canadian, too! 🙂 Well, I’m just waving the Canadian half of my Indo-Canadian freak flag!

      >It’s great that Bestie can look back on it fondly,
      – It’s taken him a whole year almost, MJ. (Sajid died on 17 May 2011.) For nearly a year, Bestie Boy refused to say anything about Sajid. He did not wail on the Wall (Sajid’s) with the rest of Sajid’s friends and he would evade my references. When we met in April, nearly a year after Sajid’s death, he opened up a little more.

      Bestie Boy has not experienced death in the family or among close friends. Sajid was the first. Death is something that he was afraid of. Still is, but to just the slightest degree less now.

      >and it helps that he has written correspondence from that time.
      – Yes, it does!

      >Didn’t have FB or texting in my youth unfortunately.
      – But you had something better – handwritten notes! Well, you may not have collected every little thing. 😦 Mum has quite a stash. We read those when we, three kids, are home together for celebrations.

      >He must have been very special.
      – He was. I’m not saying this because Sajid is no longer here. I believe that everyone is special.

      I am relieved that Bestie Boy and Sajid were fairly open about how much they cared for each other because Bestie Boy and his bloke buds have this ‘lad code’ thing that prevents them from telling one another how they feel. That’s a woman thing apparently. *snort*

      Here’s an excerpt of my correspondence with another friend of mine who told me how his best friend from childhood doesn’t make time for him today; even when he needs help. It made me sad.

      I’ll call my friend, Jonathan, and his best friend, Malcolm.

      >>No, Malcolm doesn’t spend much time with me when he’s free. Even when I tell him I need his help with something, he does not always show up. It hurts.
      – 😦 I really don’t know what to say, Jon. There is no way that (genuine) emotions or caring actions can be forced out of people. I would have thought you being away from home (your uni years and now, you working in another city) would have made Malcolm hanker for ‘Jon time’ on a routine basis and of course, leap when you squeak.

      My only concern is that he doesn’t ever have to harbour regret for not being there for you. Not just Malcolm, but anyone. And not just with you, but whoever matters to them.

      I can confidently say that every person I know knows exactly how feel about them. Not just the ones I like/love to whatever degree, but also the ones I do not like and have severed ties with. Every single person is completely aware of my reasons for liking them or not liking them anymore. I truly have no regrets about people. And it’s a wonderful feeling; knowing that I will not harbour any regrets where people in my life are concerned. I will not experience that awful “I wish I had”, “Oh, why didn’t I?” and “If only”.

      >You, my friend, have a very kind heart and your still waters run very deep.
      – Now, that’s deep, MJ. Thank you.

      >You lay yourself out there, much like MLB does.
      – I don’t see the reason not to, especially with people we love.

      >So much empathy for how others feel. Yep, it’s gonna be the death of both of you – worrying and carrying so many burdens. 🙂
      – It might. But YLB and I are strong, MJ. We weep, we wail, we bend, we bow. BUT we will not break. Because YLB and I have our faith and we are surrounded by love.

      >It’s always a privilege to get a glimpse into who you are.
      – Am equally honoured when you choose to share your life with us. Although you’ve seen how even I, the chatterbox that I am, can get overwhelmed.

      On your anniversary, for example. I was not just touched by your tribute to Cate, I was sad that you couldn’t both be together on that day and say those things to each other, face-to-face. I’ve also been sad for both of you since I learned about your LDR (Long Distance Relationship). I thought you had moved together. I know it’s necessary and it’s not permanent, but things like this make me sad. I console myself that you both will weather this storm like you’ve done in the past. Hoping for sunshine, blooms and butterflies for you both soon.

      >And lastly, because I’m me:
      >“I chose that colour because I use similarly shaded saffron strands from Kashmir in my breakfast porridge. “
      >Um, hello Kate — random! Love it.

      – Yeah, now that you pointed it out, you’re right! That is random. But it is a pre-conceived and deliberate tidbit here.

      When writing to my friends, I write the same way I respond to comments out here. Here, I Bold the Commenter’s text; in my personal correspondence, I colour code my friends’/relatives’ text in their favourite colour. With the amount I blab, this distinction makes it easier on the eye and quicker to comprehend.

      Brown is not my favourite colour; black and white are. Brown related terms are some of the many nicknames Bestie Boy has for me , so I decided to make that my colour. Because it is; I mean, my skin colour is brown.

      *said like Homer Simpson* Mmm, porridge.

      *said like me* Hmm. I could probably do a post on my diet “schedule”. Thanks again for the inadvertent tip, MJ!

      >That just cracked me up!!
      – Yaay! I’m thrilled because I have many broad grin or LOL moments on your blog, too. Besides offering my skinny shoulders for support, I also like lightening burdens by making people laugh.

      And on that note, you and YLB have yourselves a cracker offa day! 🙂

      Kate

      Like

      Comment by For you, Daddy! — Saturday, 16 June 2012 @ 12:05 am |Reply

  2. You have a rich, full life, don’t you, Kate?
    Thank you for sharing. I never leave here without embarking upon a new and exciting philosophical path.
    Thank you.

    Like

    Comment by The Hook — Sunday, 17 June 2012 @ 7:45 pm |Reply

    • >You have a rich, full life, don’t you, Kate?
      – Do I ? I don’t think my life is different from anyone else. Really. I’m just good at spinning a good yarn. Know what I’m sayin’?

      >I never leave here without embarking upon a new and exciting philosophical path.
      – Oh, dear. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?

      Alright, alright, I’m not too good at this whole ‘receiving compliments’ thing. I like them, for sure, but I’m just not gracious with the acceptance speeches.

      I’d never be able to churn out the kind of posts you do because I’d be cringing too hard to stabilise my hands to type or my dropped jaw would land on my keyboard. It takes a certain amount of fortitude to write what you write. Thank goodness for your sense of humour! It lightens the hard facts that your bring to the fore.

      Thanks for the encouragement, Hook. Now let’s head over to yours where we can catch up with more reality laced with chuckles. 🙂

      Kate

      Like

      Comment by For you, Daddy! — Monday, 18 June 2012 @ 2:32 am |Reply


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: