Munish

I first met Munish in Suratkal bus stop as I waited there for my bus to college. Munish had a very nice sweet, childlike smile that I am sure attracted anyone to make friends with him. My first impression on him was obviously very good and I wanted to know more about my new friend. He was in the first year while I was in my final year of engineering. 

We occasionally traveled in the same bus to college and during that one hour journey we had good conversations. As both Munsih and I had completed our pre-university education from the same college, we obviously had a lot to discuss about our time spent there, lecturers we liked or disliked, subjects we enjoyed or the tuition classes we attended. We both enjoyed reading novels, hence that was one another topic to discuss about our favorite novels and authors. During my conversations with Munish, I realized that he was a much matured human being even at that young age. Behind his innocent s
mile was a thoughtful human being, kind at heart. No doubt he spoke extremely well on any topic that withheld so much of maturity. 

He did not just speak for the sake of talking, like many do but his every speech was thoughtful and well etched with sensitivity and sensibility. Maybe my talks with Munish can be easily numbered but every one of them where wonderful. I truly enjoyed the discussions and sharing of opinions. If I had had a younger brother, I would have definitely liked him to be someone like Munish. After my engineering, I moved to Bangalore and got busy with my job hunt. I do recall meeting Munish once after that, in Suratkal, while I was back home on vacation. I spoke to him for about 10-15 minutes about his studies, his hobbies and life in general. I then returned back to Bangalore and got too much involved in my own day to day routines. 

Every now and then I did remember Munish and while I was in Suratkal, hoped to run into him, but that never happened. Three years later, one day when I was in my friend K’s house he showed me our college magazine of that particular year. He had managed to get it somehow. As I opened the first page of the book, I was shocked by what I saw. I had not expected, in my wildest dreams to see Munish’s picture in the obituary section of the magazine. My dear friend was no more. 

K told me that he had died of cancer. That entire day I was unable to recover from that schocking news. Several questions bothered me – “When did he know about this?”; “How should he have reacted?”; “What had he been through?” I recalled some of my conversations with him on his ambitions and goals in life. The same words made me sad now. For some unknown, unfamiliar reasons I felt terribly helpless. I felt bad for not being with him during his last days. Not that it would have helped in anyway but these are the bonding and friendships that make us accept and bare the bitter truths of life. 

That evening, I returned home to read through the pages of my diary, where Munish’s name still exists and can never be erased. “This is all I can do my friend.” I remember thinking at that time, with moist eyes and mind full of words that had once gathered in. Even now, sometimes as I walk past Suratkal town, I hope to meet Munish and then suddenly the picture of his on the college magazine brings me back to reality. 

Munish has left this world but not the pages of my diary or the thoughts of many of his friends. This brings me closer to the fact - people may die but their memories live on forever in the minds of their dear one’s. Munish will be always remembered as someone with a cheerful, friendly smile and matured thoughts.