When life ends a bit too soon, a bit too hard, and a bit too suddenly.

Divya Ganesan
Sep 2, 2018 · 3 min read

Only then do you see the fragility of it. Only then do you realise how you tend to miss the most fundamental purpose that is standing right in front of you and look beyond at really pointless and mundane things. It could’ve been that one extra phone call to just say hi. Or dropping by for an occasional visit.

Some people make a fleeting impression on others. Few other people merely exist in a state of limbo to others. But there are very few men who manage to create a huge ripple in every individuals life around them. Ripples that travel far and fast. That touch the farthest being in the same manner and effect as those in the centre. Ripples that last a lifetime.

We had one such man in our life. We lost him today. And the fact that every, and I mean, every single person who heard of this tragedy could not hold back tears, is testimony to the ripples this man has managed to create in his brief but impactful life.

And he’s not with us.

Ramesh Mama was a gem. He was a gentleman. He was kind. He was civil. He was fun. He was funny. He was light-hearted. He was helpful. He was supportive. He was empathetic. He always had a smile on his face, despite the hardships he has been through. He laughed openly. He was faithful. He was loving. He was giving. He was generous. He was everything you’d want in a father, in a brother, in a husband, in a son, in an uncle, in a nephew.

And he’s not with us.

His heart was weak, but in reality, he had the strongest heart anyone can ever have. Life can be cruel with its ironies that way. I remember him picking me and Amma from the station at Surat, Anand, Rajkot, Pune – he’d put her in an auto, and plonk me on the tank of his blue Suzuki bike. He’d drive fast. And that’d give me the thrills. He had style and he flaunted it. Like Rajnikanth. He’d take me to all the Rajnikanth movies and even try and rescue me from my brothers shenanigans like Rajni himself. I owe my Rajni-fandom to him. He’d take me to shops and buy me fancy clothes. He gifted me my first Barbie ever. And my second and third. Never owned one after that. He’d tell me to study hard. But he’d always be ready to play with me. He gave me my first laptop. He’d call Home and every time, I’d torture him with a long boring joke. At the end of it, he’d ask “so, you were about to tell me a joke. Where’s it?” And this lasted a good 3 years. He laughed a lot. Laughed when life kept throwing challenges after challenges. Laughed in the face of it.

And he’s not with us now.

He faced immense difficulties in life. Health-wise. That caused a setback in his career. But with the support of his selfless wife, unconditionally loving mother, and a never-asking daughter, he braved the world with a smile. He showed us what it means to brave the odds. Face the challenges with a smile. He was the doting husband and father and son and kid brother and uncle that our family loved without any boundaries.

And he’s not with us now.

He caused ripples in every person’s life around him. He’s touched their lives in someway or another. To know that he isn’t around anymore, is like twisting a piece of your heart and tugging it out. I have never ever thought of a life without him in it. And here we are. Have never written for a lost loved one. But this man deserves this and so much more. He will always be with us. Watching. Giving. Loving. As always.

And he’s always with us.

    Divya Ganesan

    Written by

    Bombay-ite by birth, life in Chennai, a communicator by nature, an engineer by accident, a software professional by training & a marketer by profession