"D" -a memoir

My screen showed a W'app message. I checked. It was from a near–forgotten mate in college. It said that a person known to us had died. He was not exactly a friend yet not just an acquaintance, a fellow pretty senior to us. He had died today. Let's call him 'D'. 

The last time I passed his quiet presence was when he had taken a vow of silence. He, I was told, had stopped speaking to people on a whim. He was a lecturer at my old college, The Goa College of Art.  I wondered how he delivered his lectures what with the VoS. That, they told me, he does just as fine as he did. That was a relief! 

I knew his family a bit - his always smiling mother, his monobrowed sister & his older brother. 

One day his brother simply left home, leaving his two children, wife and parents. No one knows where he went. 

I had met his father when the old man was alive. A brahmin, he used to practice astrology. They were not well off. 

So not jeopardizing his source of regular earning was a good thing. As to why he had stopped talking is something I haven't understood. But that's immaterial now that he's silent forever. 

D was talented. If he didn't have to carry the burden of his family, he could have made a name for himself in the field of regional theater at least. The way he presented his plays was quite impressive. I can say that because I myself had acted in one play that he was the artistic director of. He illustrated book covers for some of his writer friends. 

The man was tested by life! Especially on his home front he had challenges. He took them as best as he could. D didn't escape!

 

Well, he is gone too. One short life, seemingly lengthened by troubles when you take them on. While he faced his troubles, a small segment of the society he lived in will remember him for his talent suppressed by his responsibilities.

 

I had made a quick sketch of his peculiar frame — long hair, deep lower back which pushed his tummy out, slim, bearded tall man. D was a good man!

 

I do hope that he had no regrets on his death bed. He should have had a better deal. Unfortunately he didn't. C'est la vie! 

 

This blog is a small token of respect for D, who was not exactly my friend but also, not just an acquaintance. 

There are many such unsung heros who are born, live their life and quietly perish but as they perish they highlight the "sphere of sorrow" of the English poet Shelley. 

It underscores the unbalanced societies we live in. It boils down to one thing ultimately & it is that man exploits man. 

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