The younger brother I never had

The lump in my throat when I shared this news with my wife surprised me. When a classmate asked me how well I knew him, to which I told him that I knew him more in the last 5/6 months and knew him socially since the last 5/6 years; this was his turn to get surprised.

My degree of grief defied the conventional logic of proportion.

His passing away didn’t take me by surprise. Since morning I was dreading to face this news and by noon it was all over and by early evening, I was seeing his mortal remains a few minutes before it was about to be consigned to flames. With tears welling up and lumps in my throat I chose to leave the place. At this same place, I had bade farewell to many of my dear ones in close succession in the last few years.

Who was Smarajit? And what was he to me? And why was I reacting like this?

If my memory serves me right, we bumped into each other at a pre-Holi party organized by his doctor friends. That was 2015/16. A friend took me there to escape from another boring party. Joining a party uninvited isn't new to men and my hosts were at ease in minutes. The only odd thing was that I wasn’t their age. In minutes it was free for all with expletives flying about and snacks flying off the plate keeping pace with it. But in that chaos, one guy could sense my discomfiture and kept chatting up with me to distract me from what was happening only a few feet away. Valiant was his effort even though chagrin was written all over his face. In the air filled with irreverence, he instantly established our equation which he maintained till the end.

That I'm the respectable senior and he, my junior.

We met many times at his workplace, Apollo Hospital mostly while chaperoning some relatives for their orthopedic problems. Courteous as ever, he would deal with me with his signature inimitable style. Later I realized that I wasn't the only one who was touched by his good manners and disarming smile. Hundreds of posts on FB bears testimony to the happy patients he helped get back on their feet. He had a legion of satisfied patients from every possible part of the society – important to common.

My wife's persistent heel pain took both of us to him some years later. He in his courteous best told us that he can numb the sore area which will make the patient falsely believe that she is cured or undergo physiotherapy to strengthen the parts thus progressively lessening the pain. We chose the latter. At that time was dealing with his mother's cancer and the trauma had made him philosophical. He, commenting on the uncertainties of human life and lack of family support because of dwindling numbers of family members in the future, told that he has instructed his attendant to give him some basic food when he is all alone battling loneliness and old age. A few days later he was detected with cancer. God had made sure that he will neither see old age nor deal with loneliness. A bulwark of response got initiated with the latest and best possible treatment regime under the subconscious realization that the countdown has begun. That was 2018.

2021; after working on a concept to preserve our mother language since 2019 and keeping it on deep freeze for the duration of two waves of Covid, chose to push for the launch of ReciteWorld. With only the goodwill of friends and faith in the purpose, we unleashed all our energies. Any sane man would have said it's akin to spitting into the oncoming wind or sure-shot hara-kiri, but we kept moving.

Smarajit called me up once after seeing one of our contents on our YouTube Channel and offered his all-out support. He after listening to one story had realized how little he knew about our literary heritage. His guilt spurred his resolution. He was a man on a mission. He would in a state of excitement call me to tell me how this has now become his new passion. He would forward the links to hundreds of his friends and check the status on the channel. Starting from arranging the chief guest to sending a flawless invitation letter spoke of his sense of commitment. He from his self-imposed bunker would handle every issue like a master puppeteer. The day it was inaugurated, his sickness kept him away from watching the event on TV. But like the blind Dhrutarastra watching the war, wanted me to brief him about every minute detail just to ensure that everything went well.

On realizing that ReciteWorld is free to air and is fully dependent on private contributions, offered to arrange resources. I was shocked upon knowing that the amount committed by one of his close acquaintances for his medical treatment got diverted to us to take care of the production expenses.

That was him. A warrior even if he is on a hospital bed.

Life for him was a cycle of battle with the Big C, trudging back to normal with occasional bouts of treatment-related trauma. These bouts became more frequent with time. I kept track of his health from common friends and his postings on FB. He always wore a smile, this time the smile was that of a brave soldier who has returned from the borders amputated.

We kept exchanging notes. He would ask for his favorite chicken stew and caramel pudding but then refuse it next time when we offered to send some when we cooked it again, but each time making ensuring that I am not hurt by his refusal. I could sense that he was getting exhausted after his treatment sessions, staying disconnected, and avoiding communicating with others. I was dreading that the slide to the worst has begun. When a friend from the US who was his classmate called me up early morning yesterday to inform me about his deteriorated status; I knew the worst is about to happen in just a few hours. And here I am after 24 hours, grieving his death and trying to decipher my attachment with him. Now, I kind of am ready to answer the question my friend asked me yesterday - How well did I know him?

The answer is - he was the younger brother I never had and yesterday he became the younger brother I don't have.

Goodbye Smarajit; I'm sure much more people are waiting in the other world to benefit from your grace and kindness than the number of people whose lives you had touched positively here. You will always be remembered my younger brother. 

So long!