2012: A personal note

“Undo it, take it back, make every day the previous one until I am returned to the day before the one that made you go. Or set me on an airplane traveling west, crossing the date line again and again, losing this day, then that, until the day of loss still lies ahead, and you are here instead of sorrow.”
Nessa Rapoport

If I could’ve helped, I’d rather not have had 2012 in my life. I lost in the god-forsaken year a dear and respected guru, CK Arora, my dog Bruno and a friend whom I cannot name but who perhaps has moved on.

Life’s lived in chapters. The protagonists change incessantly. People around who revolves our world aren’t suddenly there. At times it’s the work of destiny and at times our own doing.

CK died in faraway Washington where he taught Hindi to American diplomats after a long and distinguished stint as a journalist. Many years ago, we used to work together in the United News of India; me a young entrant and him a veteran already. One day I was told that I was being shifted out of the desk job to field reporting. Such breaks weren’t commonplace those days.

There was no end to my happiness. I was on cloud nine.

It was many years later that I got to know that CK was the one who recommended me for the reporting job. He watched me from a distance and felt that I did well in the field work I was intermittently assigned as a desk person. The beauty of it all was that he promoted me on the quiet with the higher editorial management. He wasn’t looking for a groupie. He simply felt my transfer will add value to the reporting unit.

Such special edition men aren’t made in God’s factory anymore. Our generation owed so much to their professionalism and generosity. In CK’s passing away I lost a friend and a patron. RIP CK Saab; shall miss you always.

Bruno was a blue blooded Labrador. He was bequeathed to us by my late son who got him as part of a conspiracy he hatched with my wife and daughter. I was of the view that my apartment was too small for farm dogs that Labradors are. My son silenced me by getting Bruno as a gift to his sister on her birthday.

Bruno, 11, followed my son about seven years after his death in a road accident. We had to put him to sleep on the doctor’s advice after he was diagnosed for throat cancer. We sent him off on the morning after Diwali.

He ate despite his throat a few pieces of kaaju burfi on the Diwali night. I miss him all the while. The flicker in his eyes after the killer intravenous injection will stay with me forever. RIP Bruno. Play in the heavens with my son and your elder Bro!

The story of the friend who has moved on is surmised by the adage “friendship’s like a china bowl, precious costly ware, if once broken can be mended again, but the crack is always there.”

Dear 2012, why couldn’t you leave us alone? Hope 2013 will help fill up the crack.

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