The Memory Remains

The end was nigh. Musings were in the air, with God’s own country beginning to develop a hitherto unknown skepticism of his abilities, even if spoken only in hushed whispers. ‘He is finished’, they said. ‘He is denying someone an opportunity’, they said. But deep in their hearts, all of them knew that if there was one thing in a battle that they would hinge their life to, it would be their undying faith in you.

I have always thought how I would react to the moment, hoping deep in my heart like a billion others that it should never arrive. But now that it has, all I am left with is an emptiness, like the passing of a dear one, like a part of me died inside. The memory reel plays Perth 1992, Sharjah 1998, Chennai 1999, Rawalpindi 2004, Hyderabad 2009, Cape Town 1997 and 2011, and everything in between, over and over again. Clutching to the vain hope of gladly living through it once again.

Thank you, SRT. You were a delightful habit. Through the Hindu rate of growth to an emerging superpower to down in the dumps again, through half a dozen different prime ministers and presidents, through 80% of my life, through living in a dozen different places, through disappointments, heartbreaks and successes, you were the one true and constant streak of happiness, the one straw to clutch at with blind trust, the one ray of sunshine when all was dark and foreboding. Life is emptier and my theism is dead today, and thank you for keeping it alive all these years. It has been a privilege, an honour to grow up in your realm.

PS – With the last of the greats now gone, I am reminded of this beautifully written piece from five years ago and this one from last year. In my opinion, nothing could possibly reflect the ethos of an entire generation better.