Somu - Part II
Continued from here... (Somu - Part I)
As and when the teenage began, our fellowship waned, although only circumstantially. By now we had grown into quite distinct personas, the initial subtle differences of boyhood getting magnified with passing age; I became an introvert, not-so-well-known, shy, unimpressive guy with select or no friends. He was the all popular, friendly, affable guy with a huge gang of buddies. When I reflect at these times, from Class IX to XII, it now appears to me that although destiny had set us rolling on different paths but it still had failed to deliver the ultimate coup de grace. The invisible umbilical cord which ran from him to me and me to him remained intact.
I really don’t have much things to say about my friend during this phase. There occurred two such phases of 2-3 years each wherein we were not greatly associated with each other, and accordingly I shall let these phases pass in my narrative. Some of my other good childhood friends who were close to him would be ideal candidates for taking over my pen for writing these phases. So, I fast forward into the year 1999.
It must have been the month of August ’99 when my mother’s voice on the phone informed me that my friend would be coming to Pune. He had taken admission in architecture. I had arrived a month back to pursue some devil called engineering in a city which I had never even heard of before (surprising?) and was nothing short of lonely. Our life in Pune marked the phoenixation of the moribund fellowship. This renewal of friendship lasted till 2005
On my own admission, I had all but frowned at his choice of architecture at that time. “What will he do becoming an architect?” my myopic view had questioned. At a time when every Tom, Dick, Harry and their pet poodles went to do engineering, my friend had chosen something unique. He was unique, didn’t I tell you? Today I stand humbly corrected. I have completely failed at living my life on my own terms and those select few who manage to break the archetypical boundaries of societal obligations, what-will-people-say etc evoke the deepest appreciation, praise and respect from me. How silly of me to have overlooked my own friend! What he did at that tender age required going against the grain, required guts, courage, gand mein dum. Attributes which I still struggle to find in the vast majority of our population, including myself. My friend… You are and will forever remain my inspiration.
It was the month of September (not sure) when I bumped into him during ‘Verve’ – intercollegiate cultural festival of Pune (wonder if it still survives?). He was surrounded by agreeable young women, apparently a choreographer cum make up artist cum man-of-the-harem for his college’s dance competition. His popularity had taken a new direction, and as later years would tell me, it would only grow.
During the difficult years of engineering, which were unfortunately marred due to my father’s demise, my friend supported me a lot. He visited our hostels as often as practicality would dictate. Today, as my hostel mates read this and call me saying, “Hey, I recall this guy, he used to come often” I realize the help you offered to me.
For the next years, I can remember disjointed events, things varying from sitting behind his scooter to listening to his unending stories of college Profs, all night stand while making those architect drawings on sheets. It was during this time that Madhura happened to him and vice versa. The contours of the first meeting, how, where, when etc I got to know only several years later when they were summarily committed. And for reasons of privacy, I shall skip drawing these contours any further and move on.
I passed out in 2003 and soon left Pune for a nationwide crazy vagabond lifestyle which, I admit, marked the metamorphosis of my manhood. After spending a year in various states, I was back to Pune in 2004. The 04-05 period was the time when my friend introduced me one of the best things I have had the fortune and honor of experiencing. “The Remand Home” as we called it.
A brief about the remand home is here, taken from a poster dated 2005 – “We, a group of youngsters, have come together to work for the betterment of underprivileged in our society. Our main activities are centered on the “BOYS REMAND HOME” in Shivajinagar, Pune where we carry out various activities during the week to develop these children and gather every Sunday to conduct various workshops and spend quality time with the children”. (Suggested reading: http://sixsixsixx.blogspot.com/2007/05/revelation-1-chap-13-verse-18.html )
On a warm Sunday afternoon, my friend knocked on my door. I was sleeping. He had come to meet and talk, among other general things, he had come with a specific request. That afternoon he ‘sold’ me the concept of what his group of friends was doing at the remand home, which housed child delinquents as well as lost boys from as far as Bihar, Assam. The group was looking for some contribution to fund their posters or something I don’t recall. I had willingly agreed to help out and was also invited to attend a Sunday session. Next Sunday, riding back seat on my friend’s scooter, I did go. That was it.
The one year I spent with the men and women (not boys and girls, they were too mature to be called B & G) at the Remand Home was one of the most influential experiences of my life. Having introduced me to such wonderful people and their thoughts is the single most important contribution of my friend towards my drab, purposeless life. My friend helped reunite quite a few kids with their families, many times going as far as shady slums to find out the child’s father! If only that kid knew today what hath become of the uncle who restored happiness back to his life, how would the kid feel? I wonder. Here I reproduce one vintage but apt photograph of my friend among the remand home kids. This photo, for me, sums up this extraordinary man’s life who I feel honored to call ‘my friend’ (centre in blue T shirt with the boys from remand home)
I really don’t have much things to say about my friend during this phase. There occurred two such phases of 2-3 years each wherein we were not greatly associated with each other, and accordingly I shall let these phases pass in my narrative. Some of my other good childhood friends who were close to him would be ideal candidates for taking over my pen for writing these phases. So, I fast forward into the year 1999.
It must have been the month of August ’99 when my mother’s voice on the phone informed me that my friend would be coming to Pune. He had taken admission in architecture. I had arrived a month back to pursue some devil called engineering in a city which I had never even heard of before (surprising?) and was nothing short of lonely. Our life in Pune marked the phoenixation of the moribund fellowship. This renewal of friendship lasted till 2005
On my own admission, I had all but frowned at his choice of architecture at that time. “What will he do becoming an architect?” my myopic view had questioned. At a time when every Tom, Dick, Harry and their pet poodles went to do engineering, my friend had chosen something unique. He was unique, didn’t I tell you? Today I stand humbly corrected. I have completely failed at living my life on my own terms and those select few who manage to break the archetypical boundaries of societal obligations, what-will-people-say etc evoke the deepest appreciation, praise and respect from me. How silly of me to have overlooked my own friend! What he did at that tender age required going against the grain, required guts, courage, gand mein dum. Attributes which I still struggle to find in the vast majority of our population, including myself. My friend… You are and will forever remain my inspiration.
It was the month of September (not sure) when I bumped into him during ‘Verve’ – intercollegiate cultural festival of Pune (wonder if it still survives?). He was surrounded by agreeable young women, apparently a choreographer cum make up artist cum man-of-the-harem for his college’s dance competition. His popularity had taken a new direction, and as later years would tell me, it would only grow.
During the difficult years of engineering, which were unfortunately marred due to my father’s demise, my friend supported me a lot. He visited our hostels as often as practicality would dictate. Today, as my hostel mates read this and call me saying, “Hey, I recall this guy, he used to come often” I realize the help you offered to me.
For the next years, I can remember disjointed events, things varying from sitting behind his scooter to listening to his unending stories of college Profs, all night stand while making those architect drawings on sheets. It was during this time that Madhura happened to him and vice versa. The contours of the first meeting, how, where, when etc I got to know only several years later when they were summarily committed. And for reasons of privacy, I shall skip drawing these contours any further and move on.
I passed out in 2003 and soon left Pune for a nationwide crazy vagabond lifestyle which, I admit, marked the metamorphosis of my manhood. After spending a year in various states, I was back to Pune in 2004. The 04-05 period was the time when my friend introduced me one of the best things I have had the fortune and honor of experiencing. “The Remand Home” as we called it.
A brief about the remand home is here, taken from a poster dated 2005 – “We, a group of youngsters, have come together to work for the betterment of underprivileged in our society. Our main activities are centered on the “BOYS REMAND HOME” in Shivajinagar, Pune where we carry out various activities during the week to develop these children and gather every Sunday to conduct various workshops and spend quality time with the children”. (Suggested reading: http://sixsixsixx.blogspot.com/2007/05/revelation-1-chap-13-verse-18.html )
On a warm Sunday afternoon, my friend knocked on my door. I was sleeping. He had come to meet and talk, among other general things, he had come with a specific request. That afternoon he ‘sold’ me the concept of what his group of friends was doing at the remand home, which housed child delinquents as well as lost boys from as far as Bihar, Assam. The group was looking for some contribution to fund their posters or something I don’t recall. I had willingly agreed to help out and was also invited to attend a Sunday session. Next Sunday, riding back seat on my friend’s scooter, I did go. That was it.
The one year I spent with the men and women (not boys and girls, they were too mature to be called B & G) at the Remand Home was one of the most influential experiences of my life. Having introduced me to such wonderful people and their thoughts is the single most important contribution of my friend towards my drab, purposeless life. My friend helped reunite quite a few kids with their families, many times going as far as shady slums to find out the child’s father! If only that kid knew today what hath become of the uncle who restored happiness back to his life, how would the kid feel? I wonder. Here I reproduce one vintage but apt photograph of my friend among the remand home kids. This photo, for me, sums up this extraordinary man’s life who I feel honored to call ‘my friend’ (centre in blue T shirt with the boys from remand home)
Then there were the lighter, fun moments too. I would credit my friend with initiating me into the company of the fairer sex, which hitherto, had completely escaped me. The age of early twenties consisted of brand building activities like having a girlfriend or as the purists would say having a “friend who is a girl”, going to discotheques and etc. My friend had exemplary skills in this department. He was already committed to Madhura (eventual wife many years later) so he used to play more of a ‘big brother’ or bouncer role. The babes of town felt safe with him. Looking back, I had my unfair share of disco parties which were in vogue back then and one memory amuses me a lot. I recall whenever me and some other ‘stags’ felt the urge to shake our ass in the disc, I used to turn to my friend for directions and more importantly gathering the fairer company. We needed entry and relied on him to collect single females for pseudo pairing. Incidentally, he almost never found any babe in town willing for a disc night whenever I found the urge to discofy myself. “Saale, jab mereko jaana rehta hai, tabhi tujhi ladkiyaan nahi milti”, I used to curse. He used to laugh his heart out.
to be continued...
End of Part II
Labels: R.I.P.
1 comments
I'm completely touched. You've put this blog in the best way possible. I miss Somu too. R.I.P. Somu.
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