May 8 Today is a year since we lost my schoolmate and good pal, Raj Marphatia, to cancer. It hardly seems possible a whole year has gone by! I wrote this tribute to him last year - Sometimes you win even when you don't: https://scroll.in/article/961669/sometimes-you-win-even-when-you-dont-a-tribute-to-raj-marphatia
And at a memorial for him, I delivered the short eulogy that's below. Join me, won't you, in remembering one of the good guys. cheers, dilip --- I hear, Raj, that shortly before you left us you said to those around you: “no moping!” — and I’m sure you meant it for the rest of us too. That’s easier for you to say than for us to follow, but still, I’ll do my best to respect that spirit. Even so, let me get this out of the way. After his brother died, the ancient Roman poet Catullus picked up his pen, and somehow, over 2000 years ago, he knew how I feel today about losing you. In the poem he wrote are these lines: — Alas, my brother, You have been taken from me. You have been taken from me And by cold hands turned to shadow and my pain. — Shadow and my pain, Raj. But no more moping, my brother! Nor am I going to list your remarkable accomplishments. This is a eulogy, and I come not to bury or praise you, but to celebrate with everyone here the way you touched our lives with so much grace, humour and substance. Flashback 1981: Soon after I reached the US, wide-eyed about all things American, I entered a sweepstakes. First prize? A Delorean — the sleek supercar everyone was gushing over. Sceptical of sweepstakes anyway, you snorted in derision when I told you about the car. “So what’s second prize?” you asked. “Two Deloreans?” That was your quicksilver wit and I got the message too: you didn’t like Deloreans. By the way, I did win second prize. A Fuji bicycle. Flashback 1988: Thanksgiving weekend with you and Nalini in Puerto Rico. One breezy evening on our balcony on Culebra Island, we chatted, of all things, about abortion. Such a thorny issue, and you and I saw it very differently. You explained yourself clearly and patiently, yet with a firmness that spoke of how deeply you had thought this through. That evening has come back to me in a hundred heated arguments over the years, as a lesson in respectful disagreement I wish I followed as sincerely as you did. Flashback forever: in our early years, I looked up to you all the time. How could I not? You were so good at everything. But as adults, spending time together more regularly, I finally started seeing you as an equal. How did things change? Because, I found, you listened. You listened to me, always. You respected me and my thoughts, and that made our bond so much stronger. Simply listening: no surprise, you were good at that too. So go well, my brother. You have been taken, but we will remember you. You have been taken, but we have you in us. You have been taken, but I know you’re here. -- My book with Joy Ma: "The Deoliwallahs" Twitter: @DeathEndsFun Death Ends Fun: http://dcubed.blogspot.com -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Dilip's essays" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to dilips-essays+unsubscr...@googlegroups.com. To view this discussion on the web, visit https://groups.google.com/d/msgid/dilips-essays/CAEiMe8qLHFkJK6zS9gVdnCcyLqkCR8fhoRH8tSnG4Kj7M%3Dk00w%40mail.gmail.com.