My Friend Madhu

Rummaging through memories made many decades ago one finds a vague silhouette of a boy. Usual in many ways, with a hint of adolescent mischief and the precociousness of a fifteen-year-old finding his place in life.

We did kid things, rescued puppies, teased each other, formed factions and fought fake battles as we prepared for life imminent as future adults. We passed, some with flying colors, others less spectacular and went on to live out our childhoods. Some stayed close and kept in touch, while others moved to distant places and forged different lives.

Kids became adults. Lives changed, most married, raised kids, embarked on careers and grew. Thanks to the phenomenon of social media, our paths converged and we reunited.

That’s when the giant soul emerged. Madhu, different now, successful in his career, family man, had an innate need to connect with people. Sharing lives, never missing an opportunity to meet people. For him facetime was not an app. He had a way of knowing what each one of us was going through and the battles we were facing.

He saw meditation as a way to make a dent in the universe, in achieving peace inside and out. Maybe it is through these fault lines he created in time and space he is still able to connect with us, watch over us and continue to inspire us.

He collected statues of buddha and bottles of whisky to share with his friends when they visited. Trips to Chennai were never complete without meeting him and sharing a delicious meal or sampling the whisky he rarely ever drank himself.

He always knew the best restaurants and his love for Chinese food was legendary. Friends never left without a carton of Alfonso mangoes, murukku or some other delicacy. He knew rental car companies in every little city of India. A cab was just a few scrolls of his phone away long before cab hailing companies became a thing. It was Madhu helping however he could.

He found joy and happiness in his family. Proud husband. Doting father to his boys, always looking to guide them into becoming responsible adults and good humans. And he did all of that without being overbearing or authoritarian without reason.

His favorite poem was Ozymandias. It reminds us life is temporal. Madhu reminded us love is all encompassing and never ending. Beautiful souls do not perish, they live on in the memories of the loved ones they leave behind. And by God do we know we were loved. We were blessed with the love of a very special being. There was purpose in his life, to be the glue, the hand on our shoulders when we needed to believe, when we needed a friend. His phone company loved him too. He would call unexpectedly and say “buddy, I just thought about you and wanted to talk to you…”

Then, in one erratic instant, one that we wish we never had to live through, Covid took him away. Wicked, fiendish fate. Two years have gone by but not one day has passed without some memory or the other of Madhu. Clouds of dark days in our lives are lifted by thoughts of what Madhu would say when he knew about them. He would give us assurance; he would tell us every trouble would pass and life will be bright again. And it will be bright again.