A (not so) handsome face

The face in front of me did not reflect a person who is happy, healthy and well. The area around the right eye was unnaturally swollen and looked terrible. To be honest, that face was never really handsome, in fact even calling it good looking would be a bit of an over statement. It had not only suffered a physical distortion but also had lost the curly hair. What Urvakhsha’s (UK) face was really missing though, was a permanently resident expression of mischief which gave his face the light and the life. It was tired. It showed his longing for someone to tell him that everything was going to be fine. He was looking much happier to be back amongst the friends but he wasn’t the UK I knew. He was going back home to continue his treatment. That was the last time I saw one of my best friends.

* * *

I don’t remember when I met UK for the first time. I never remember such things. But I do remember that my first impression of him was that he was a freak. I mean, what will you think about a person who has put a thin cylindrical piece of wood resembling cigarette in his mouth and is trying to light its free end and pretend to be smoking? Right, a freak! And that’s partly what he was really. In my first year I used to maintain my distance from him for his slightly eccentric ways which I must admit, considering that he was a bawa, seemed very normal later on. He was especially adept at teaming up with kaykhusru Lawyer (felt weird writing this, so guys it’s keku from here on in) and thinking of some very weird ways to torment one Mr. Zareer Karanjawala. I say weird because they included stealing his slippers and planting them in someone else’s room, setting his alarm clock to go at any other inconvenient time but the one set by him etc. etc.

He considered it his misfortune that his roll number (59) was right before me (60). I don’t know where he got the weird notion – that I am very good at oral exams – in his mind. He always used to curse me even if I gave only 2 answers (out of 10) correct (perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he mostly managed 1 or none). We have had some extremely interesting experiences in the internal oral exams. There was one particular incidence for which he always used to blame me. It was the oral of C programming in our 1st year. We had learnt absolutely nothing through the semester (and we had also guessed that our teacher didn’t know much either). And before the exam some knowledgeable(?) people were saying heavy words like arrays and functions (imagine our lack of preparation, we found array a heavy word). And out came the batch before us.

“Agle 3 log andar jao be”

“Abe, kya kya puchh rahi hai?”

“Kuchh nahi na be, bahot panchat puchh rahi hai. Bahot easy hai, tension mat lo” – Nikhil (who else?).

So, in we went – Roll nos. 59, 60, 61 – as confident as a mouse that has set out on a mission of tying a bell around a cat’s neck.

“Sit down” – said the teacher with feeble ‘thank you’ from us in response. “So what do you know about C?” – She asked.

Vishal burst out, “Madam, I don’t know anything about C. I have studied BASIC in the school. I can tell you only about BASIC.”

We were horrified! Where did this b@#%^#$ study BASIC? And we didn’t even know that much, how were we supposed go through this oral!! We were very tensed out by this (yes, like everybody else, we felt tense about orals in our 1st year).

“OK. What about you two? Can I ask you about C?” again, very feeble sound closely resembling ‘yes’ came from our mouth.

“Good”. Then she asked Vishal something related to BASIC. “You write down a program for adding 2 integers” – to UK. He actually took the pen and paper quite assuredly. “And you tell me what a variable is?”

I felt some sense returning to me. I answered confidently. By that time Vishal had finished his task. She looked at the paper uncomprehendingly. Now UK was also finished with his program. She took the paper but without examining it, she gave the paper to me.

“Study this and tell me whether there are any mistakes” – UK looked confident. I think he had guessed just what I had guessed, she didn’t know whether there were any mistakes in the program. Anyway, I took the paper and saw the program. UK’s handwriting was wretched to say the least. I found it hard to understand. But there was a glaring mistake in every statement he had written which did not require me to understand his writing. He had not ended every statement of his with a semicolon. And before I could control myself I said “There are at least 5 mistakes in this program”.

No sooner did I say it than I wanted to bite my tongue off. UK looked at me disbelievingly. If I had not mentioned it the teacher would not have guessed it at all. Because, today I can tell that even after adding semicolons, there must have been at least 10 more mistakes (in only those 5 statements). But after I had added the semicolons (I had to, as I had shot my mouth off), the teacher looked at it and said to UK – “Now, this is a correct program” adding insult to injury.

No wonder, since then he has detested giving orals with me.

We came a lot closer in our 2nd year. Mostly due to Rotaract (club of Sangli) and the fact that we lived in the same lobby. It was in the 2nd year that we sort of started to hang out together. We had a lot of fun that year. Mostly at the expense of his next room neighbor (the room towards the lavatory) whom I will not name here. I was a pretty regular visitor to his room (after all the room had a TV). But it was really the 3rd year where our friendship took off.

We had started to form some sort of a bond between us. There were many occasions where the two of us would just sit down and let it all out. We would talk on the club, our own friend circles and how to tease some of the others in the college. It is a different thing that mostly it was wishful thinking and we never implemented it but it was fun all right. And then there were those occasions at Vishrambag railway station. We used to just pick up a bottle or two of beer or some other liquor, a bottle (for me) of soft drink and some packets of chips and savor it all on the deserted railway station. There we would be with Vishal, Tejas – my room partner – and anyone else who wanted to come (it was mostly Sandy Kulkarni). And then we would just sit down and talk about anything and everything. With Sandy, politics was never far and when he wasn’t there we would talk on what is going to happen to the club (Rotaract), how the rest of the guys are stupid idiots and most importantly how to go about getting girls!! A point to be mentioned here, UK had a girl friend in 1st year. She dumped him (actually it should be “left” him, but writing “dumped” feels so much more satiating for a ‘lukkha’ like me) because he was doing engineering from a college in a ‘khedegaon’. It was pressure from her parents basically. Anyway, we used to enjoy these nights like hell. And the best part was yelling at the passing trains and then laughing like children after the train had gone. Boy, those were the best days of my life! And then – to top it all – came MUNA (Model United Nations Assembly).

MUNA is an event held by Rotaract every alternate year. As its full name suggests it is a miniature version of the actual United Nations Assembly. Here, a team of 2 represents some country in the real world. There are many teams depending upon the scope of the event conducted. And these teams discuss and argue (actually, try to beat the shit out of other teams) upon some of the real world issues called resolutions and then after the argument the resolutions are voted upon just like in a real United Nations Assembly.

MUNA was special not only for what happened on the 2 days when it was held but also for the days that went into its preparation. UK and I had decided to form a team. And CVJ Shastry – the then president – decided that we will represent Israel. It was a big thing as one of the two resolutions to be debated upon was directly related to Israel. A lot of preparation and research has to be done to provide effective arguments (again, actually to beat the shit out of other teams). But UK was an engineer to his very bones. And an unwritten law for engineers says “thou shall not study till thou can avoid it”. And he could avoid preparation for now. So he did. His laziness was infectious and awe inspiring. It demanded following. And so I followed. We both did nothing till there were only a couple of weeks left for the event. This was the time when his health started declining.

For those 2 weeks we prepared hard. We went to net cafes, searched and printed out the material, poured over it and prepared drafts of the speeches we were going to make. We received some very useful help from US of A team. And we were prepared or rather we hoped we were prepared. On the first day of the event we got ready and went to the venue. It was very small (only about 20-22 teams, I don’t remember the exact number), but the way it was set was very intimidating. It was a rectangular hall with a dais along one of the smaller sides of the hall. The Chairman would sit there. And also the participant (henceforth called ‘Delegate’) delivering speech would deliver it from there. Some 12-15 feet from the dais long wooden steps were built. And on these steps were the sitting places (tables) for the teams in an alphabetical order, starting with Afghanistan. On the tables were flags of the countries that the teams represented. I went and stood on the dais. I imagined all the teams sitting there and me delivering my speech. I finished the speech and looked up; everybody was literally jumping in their seats with raised hands trying to nail me then and there with their questions. My guts rolled over in my stomach. I stopped imagining. UK looked at me with a smile and said “Chal, breakfast karte hai”. I was only too glad to oblige him.

The event started with a Group Discussion amongst the teams. Some details about who would be the first and last to speak on each resolution were finalized. Michael David Sir, who was to chair the event, gave us an introduction of MUNA. And we started. The first to come was the delegate of Iran. He came, delivered his speech, waited a couple of seconds to see if there were any questions and upon finding that there were none went to his seat. We blinked. We looked at each other, panic stricken. We had not understood even a word of what was said in the speech. We were supposed to screw him like anything. But how can you do that when you don’t even know what he has said? It went downhill from then till lunch. And then the president came to us.

“What are you two doing? Israel should be aggressive; you should be asking more questions guys.”

We assured him that we will do so and decided to ask any possible thing to every team. With this strategy the rest of the day was better. And then came UK’s chance to speak. I knew he was ill. He had not prepared much in the last few days. He was also feeling a bit weak. I was worried. But I really need not have bothered. Because the performance that he gave was nothing less than sterling. His poise, his body language, his superb imitation of Israeli (superior and confidant) demeanor and attitude, his quick wittedness in answering questions and his every pronunciation was outstanding. His overall performance was a bright spark in an otherwise dull first day.

The second day was much more interesting with lots of heated debates and smart lines. Even my speech went without many hiccups. MUNA ended there. All that was remaining was to announce winners. We were pretty satisfied with our performance. The Prize Distribution was a tense affair. But, we managed to win everything there was to win. UK also won a very much deserved special performance award from the judges. After the Prize Distribution, we just sat there thinking about what had happened. We looked at each other and something connected. We both barely had time for a smile and a nod before others came swarming towards us to hug and to congratulate. That was something truly amazing and fantastic. A few days later, he went home to rest and get some treatment. He was to be back in a week’s time.

But it took a long time. All I heard was that he needed some more treatment.

It was nearing the end of the year. It was time to decide club’s new board. And so I and Nikhil were in Shastry’s room mulling over these things when Shastry asked Nikhil,”How is UK?”

Nikhil looked skeptically at me, seemed to decide something and said, “Doctors say he may need Chemotherapy.”

I was stunned. Did he say Chemotherapy? It cannot be! Surely UK would have told me, if it was that serious. But Shastry was not surprised to hear this. Anger was rising in my head. So, the whole world knew and he wouldn’t tell me! And even these people did not think it fit to tell me! But, he just had some minor problem, didn’t he?

“He will be coming for his exams only. Doesn’t want to lose out on a year.” – Nikhil.

This was assuring. This meant things were not out of hand and could be brought under control. I didn’t say anything. Some more things were discussed and we went to our rooms. I just sat in my room, not noticing anything. I tried to sleep but it wouldn’t come. It seemed just yesterday when we smiled at each other and I had thought we understood each other perfectly at that moment; just the way best friends often do. And now he didn’t even care about telling me what he was going through. Bitter resentment was beginning to well up within me. And I put him determinedly out of my head.

He came for his exams. He was not looking good. He was not his usual mischievous self. He smiled occasionally. Seemed happy to be with us. He tried his best to study and pass. He was going back on the day the exams were over. We took him to Snow Den (a local café). We had a lot of fun and that seemed to cheer him up. While coming back I got a private moment with him. And as I was feeling very bitter, the first thing I said was, “Tu at least muze to bata sakta tha!!”

He didn’t look surprised or taken aback. In fact he looked as if he knew this was going to come up.

“Maine sirf isliye nahi bola kyuki muze nahi pata tha tu kaise handle karega.”

I felt ashamed. I could not look at him. It was an uncomfortable moment of silence. And instead of me comforting him, he clapped on my shoulder and said, “Tension mat le be. Doctor bola hai sab thik ho jayega.” And he smiled at me. I merely nodded.

I saw him again when he came to give exams once more. He looked a lot worse and less assured. He also looked very tired. The treatment was taking a heavy toll on him. He said, “Agle sal tum nahi rahoge to bahot bore hoga mereko.”

But the next year never came. Only Shahrukh came with the news that UK was no more. One of my dearest and best friends was no more. I felt down and out. A person without whose memories my life will never be complete had deserted me. My companion in Rotaract had left me all alone. I had known that life without him will not quite be same again. I had forgotten the number of times in my 4th year I had said to myself – if only UK was here. I could have talked to him and we both could have let out our frustration by sitting together and laughing it out. We could again have gone to the Vishrambag railway station and yelled at passing trains. And perhaps participated together in another MUNA representing Bhutan. We could have given orals together and I wouldn’t mind how much he cursed me for telling teachers that he was wrong. We could have acted on the numerous plans we hatched of teasing and harassing people. We could have been in the same company, working together. He would tell me about his new girlfriend and how he was better off being single. If only UK was here – we could have done so many things.

Trip to Mumbai was a blur. We met his parents, his brother, his grandmother and his aunt. His aunt told us how very bravely he fought. Not giving up despite all the pain. I believed her. I knew he had a very strong will power. We came back to Sangli. I was and still am determined to remember him for what he was before that dreadful disease took him away from me. A freak. A smiling, mischievous, lazy, irritating freak.

When we went to Mumbai, I couldn’t even see his face for the last time. But then to be honest, that face was never really handsome, was it?

- In loving memory of my dear friend Urvakhsha Kathawalla, without whom my team will never be complete.