It would have been
Harsh's 26th birthday today [7th January]. It's very, very difficult for me to write a proper
tribute to him as I really have not forgotten or let go of this dear friend of
mine. I think frequently of him and his talks. Recently someone mentioned Jaipur
to me and my first thought was of how much Harsh had enjoyed his trip to that
city and how he said we should both visit the beautiful city palace someday.
[Which we never will now.] And when I got a copy of Dirty Harry, the movie, I
smiled a bit and shook my head. My friend asked me why and I said I was once
derided very strongly for being a “fake” Clint Eastwood fan since I had not
seen Dirty Harry. Of course, it was Harsh Pande who said that to me :).
It seems like so many
things have happened since his 24th birthday. And yet, every time it is 7th
January, it's like I travel back in time to when I knew him and remember Harsh.
His talks, his sharp mind, his original jokes, his sincere compliments(I miss
these terribly), his movie reviews, his descriptions of places, his friends,
his girls, his family, his dreams, his ambitions, his books. One afternoon over
lunch, we stayed till the restaurant kicked us out. And then we sat on the
porch under a tree right outside the same restaurant and continued our chatter
as if we had not been interrupted at all. Time and words just flowed so well
with him. I remember how he used to call me up and talk for hours and then
apologize profusely because he knew I hated talking on the phone. But he called
me up anyway. And how, he discussed ideas for Project Breakup with me. And how
he used to email me songs the moment he found a good one. And how he used to
force me to watch movies he liked. I remember I could talk with him for hours,
literally. And how, he was just a very nice and a caring friend.
One thing I will never
forget about Harsh is that he was the first person who said to me, very
seriously, "It's really nice talking to you". That was the first time
someone had said that talking to me was actually interesting and fun and not a waste
of time (considering I talk about anything and everything under the sun and
argue incessantly). Since then, a couple of my very close and old time
friends have said the exact same words to me. And each time I heard that, I
immediately thought of Harsh and realized that he felt it and said it to me
long before anyone else. It makes me smile.
When I was with him, I
knew him as just another one of my many odd friends. When I read all the
tributes and the remembrances about him, I realized I knew just a little bit of
the person called Harsh Pande. His co-workers remembered him as hard working,
responsible and a star performer. His friends - ah his many, many friends - all
wrote such glowing tributes and poems and remembrances that I wondered if they
were talking about the same Harsh Pande that I knew? To me, he always spoke in
such a casual, easy-going, friendly manner that I never had an inkling he was
so much more than what he let on. His teachers especially those from his school
remembered him achieving and excelling in spite of all his surgeries. [His
surgeries. I never knew he had to bear so many of them - 14 of them. Sigh.] And
here is the thing I admire most about Harsh - his poise in his life. There is a
phrase that is a favorite of mine: "grace under pressure". And I
think he lived that. Each one of us has difficult lives, no doubt. But I
believe about putting on a brave face and smiling to the world. Chin up. Face
the world. No one will give it to you easy just because you had some
difficulties back home. He did this so well that I never felt that he had any
problem or was in pain at all. Ever. I remember that he told me he was in
pain exactly once, and then he quickly changed the topic - saying firmly
"I do not like talking about sad things. Waste of your time and waste of
my time." Since I share the exact same philosophy, I picked up the cue
immediately and we jumped to another topic - most probably movies. I salute,
still, this quality in him - his grace. His brother Digvijay told stories that made me laugh and again, made
me cry inside. Why did I not know all this before? And then I heard someone
refer to him as Harshi. I felt terrible that I didn't know people
close to him called him Harshi. Harshi.
It felt like another piece of information about him I had to hold, and remember
forever, in my mind.
I'm out of things to
write or maybe I have so many more to write, I could do it for days together.
In the end, I think that as long as I remember him, and as long as you and all
his other friends, and his family remember him, and as long as his readers
remember him, he is not gone, not really, not ever. Here's to Harsh Pande, one
of the greatest men I ever knew.
