“Special” Memoir
Back in 2015, I got an unexpected call from my college roommate. He told me that our friend Vishesh is no more. My roommate broke down on phone, perhaps for the first time ever in front of me, while I had no clue on how to handle this. I remember being pretty calm and okay, to begin with. It was only after I went for a walk and let it sink in - that I finally felt it.
I first met Vishesh during our college orientation days. He was once cycling towards the auditorium from our hostel, and I simply jumped on to his backseat, asking for lift as an afterthought. Years later he mentioned that I kept talking about myself on that ride. While I didn’t remember the conversation, it did sound like something I could have done.
Vishesh and I became really close friends in second year when he moved next door. He had everything I could have asked for — infinite patience to put up with me, well maintained cycle & cooler to borrow, and tall-thin legs to make fun of!
True friendships are formed by doing stupid stuff together. Vishesh and I had no dearth of such things. Things like walking into the running campus fountain together at mid-night and coming out completely drenched were not out-of-normal. We even sneaked in & raised two street puppies in hostel (who gloriously used to poop anywhere & everywhere to their heart’s content).
I haven’t met anyone who empathises with others as passionately as he did. Whether others are able to clear the exams or not was his fucking business. It started off with helping a few people in wing. But soon, through counselling service, he took his craziness to the whole campus — setting up a machinery that lets peers help others who needed support in academics.
He even changed his room in later years to move closer to someone in his department that he wanted to help. Since, counselling service used to work like ‘secret service’, it was only through the posts on Facebook after his demise that I realised how many people he has touched and inspired through his work in those years.
But to me, Vishesh was just a caring friend. We used to throw swear words at each other like there was no tomorrow. He knew how to lift my spirits whenever I was down. Sometimes to mock, while most of the times just to make me laugh, he will try to make a cult out of my name. He surely had more faith in things that I can pull off than I could ever have in myself.
In my last semester, I had a fight with him. He didn’t open his door when I came to return his sharpener (real mature stuff!). Towards the end of college, Vishesh got my roommate to help reconcile. I agreed because I found this giraffe of a guy who was wearing his typical extra-short shorts really funny. Vishesh was certainly the more mature amongst us. He valued maintaining relationships way better than I ever could.
We did stay in touch post college. He will sometimes ask for help and, like a true friend, I will always make fun of him and then go ahead & help him. Such camaraderie worked perfectly for us.
But then one fine day, he decided to make an exit, leaving quite a few people to miss him.
Going to his funeral was pretty intense and surreal. I took him from the post-mortem room and accompanied him to the funeral site in the ambulance. Looking outside the ambulance, with Vishesh lying in front of me, I wondered how all the traffic could move so normally, while my world was falling apart!
Seeing Vishesh reminded me of our hostel days. He used to sleep exactly like that with his mouth open. I would traditionally kick open the door of his room and wake him up saying — “utho bho*** **, warna kantaap khaoge!” (wake up mofo! or you will get slapped!”). I might have tried saying the same thing in my head in the ambulance that day, but he didn’t budge.
Before leaving the funeral, I met his mother. She told us - college friends - that she always used to ask Vishesh to enjoy life more often, while Vishesh will always make excuse and say that he shall do it once he has done his PhD. She advised that having ambition in life is great, but that life is unpredictable and one should never stop living the little moments along the way. Her motherly advice struck me the most that day.
I do think of Vishesh sometimes — about his lively spirit, how much he cared, and what he meant for people around him. He made a place for himself in each one of us and in IIT Kanpur as well— I have learnt that their is a scholarship being initiated in his name that will be given to a poor kid who has the fortune of getting into Civil Engineering like he did!
I think its the best way to celebrate and cherish his memories, given his impeccable contribution to academics at IIT Kanpur.
I sometimes drop him a line on my big days. I like to think that he would have done the same (may be). I dearly miss him sometimes. It’s just that that sometimes happen a lot of times.
I don’t remember a word of what I am reading with him in this picture. I just remember reading it with him and that is all that matters to me today. The only take away, in retrospect, from the countless hour of studying together was the shared memories we built together. Nothing less. Nothing more.
He was always the better person among the two of us. I wish I could have told him that while I could have (he wouldn’t have believed it coming from me!).
He taught me a lot of things in life that no one else ever could. For that and for the sheer delight of his presence, I will always be grateful.
-Handa
