Somewhere across the miles, a funeral pyre is burning. Within the altar of logs, sticks and sandalwood kindling lies the mortal remains of a senior colleague. A few weeks ago, we wished each other ‘happy holidays’, little did we know…
I am conscious that as the clock advances the day towards what is yet to be, a family stands beside their loved one – father, husband, grand-dad, friend – watching a part of their lives end as it drifts into and mixes with the ether. In a few hours, all that will remain are ashes, the dust from which we are all fashioned and ancient rituals will send-off a beloved teacher to his eternal hermitage in the clouds.
Nothing helps one understand and appreciate the fleeting beauty of life, more than death does. The moments you spend with people, the conversations you have, the laughter you share – all of them gifts that death teaches us to grab onto and hold dear. As I sit here thinking of the animated Mr. Gupta this morning, words evade me, only memories remain.
RIP Sanjay Sir, you will live on in our memories.