Friends are pretty nifty beings, you know. No matter what’s going on, you can be always sure he will be covering your blind side. You can be a prat of the first order, but you know that fellow will be always there for you. That’s the best bit about friends; you can always take them for so bloody granted. Good times or bad, just dial his friggin number, ping him online, and you can get back to all those memories tinted in sepia coloured happiness.
Blogs are equally nifty. You can write the darndest things in them. At times though there are things so intensely personal, you just can’t think of them as being meant for public consumption. But write you have to, write you must! So, you decide to condense memories over a decade and a half into a miserable little blogpost. And you just have to end up asking, a few reams of printed space, is that what all these memories are worth?
All the times you spent together, laughed together, cried together, and were upto your necks with your usual brand of nonsense! Remember that broken window-wala incident (heh, we really did have to scoot that day, didn’t we? Poor Srinivas, or rather poor Srinivas’ window!) Or those late-night cycling tourneys, and that time where you made me crash into a car (err, ok, it was my fault! But, I was talking to you!!). Or, being pretty sure we had broken the Nerd’s leg in that 7th floor deuce ball cricket session! (I still can’t get over the sheer number of varieties we used to come up with to play cricket!) Or those insanely long TT sessions. Or those nuggets of wisdom Kaku used to let loose with at the pool table. Or for that matter, just randomly gallivanting around Golf Green. I could just carry on and on with this!
Oh, by the way, I still take exception to all the grief you used to give me over my Durga Puja attire! Pajamas and tees are perfectly good stuff! And not everyone, has your sartorial sense!
All I can come up with is Pickles, yaar, NO!
Thanks for having been always there for me. Seeing me off at 4 in the bloody morn when I was about to leave for my job; and last time I was in Cal, coming to visit me straight from your dialysis at 11 in the friggin night, just because I had an early morning flight the next day. I was bloody pissed then. I still am pissed now. But thanks man. Thanks for every single thing you have done.
It has been a privilege and an honour to call you my friend.
Pickles, bas ab aaraam se rahiyo.