Good Deeds

This Sunday, the group of friends (Mickey’s nearests and dearests) decided to have an amazing day, in his fond memory.

Ricky, one of his closest buddies, had flown in from Madras to pay his homage and was here for a day or two. Sunday morning at 8:30 or so, we (friends) met up at Mickey’s place for breakfast. A stunning meal of sandwiches and lots of sweets (as is madu typicality) was laid out and the bunch of us ate to our hearts content. Most of these were menu items that tickled Mickey’s taste buds and as I have mentioned earlier, this guy was a total food-freak. Mellow walk down the memory lane and the recent past all made for good table conversation and the good part was, no one was critical about the misfortune. The shock had subsided and what remained was an empty space which will remain that way for a while now. Only time can tell.

There was a sudden roar about getting late to go to Matunga, to Don Boscow School. Mansi, a close friend, had her in-laws arrange a meal for some poor children and aged individuals who could not afford meals. It was the most wonderful experience I have ever experienced. There was this chapel close by that was resonating the prayers of the Sunday mass and these two long rows of hungry starving people sitting and waiting for a meal which they did feel they deserved but could have never afforded it. We were seven friends and each one went around serving these people their delicacies; Sweets, samosas, rotis, daal and rice, humbly accepted and thanked for by each one.

I have made a vague attempt at capturing a glimpse of some faces on my cell phone and it was heart-wrenching to see them eat like they have never eaten for years or something. Usually, the organization that is involved in this kind of charity, fed about 300-350 individuals every Sunday but this time it was 500 people for reasons unknown. We prayed for the soul of Mickey and even went to the chapel to thank the lord for having given us the opportunity and the resources to have had this charity done.

I don’t know why but the entire incident left me satisfied with myself. I know it was not the contribution of money or the physical presence that was making me feel good; it was the sheer joy of seeing a smile on a well fed face. At that point, I knew Mickey approved. I could feel him smile. We drove back home and enjoyed every minute of the ride. Somewhere we all knew that we had to enjoy life in the here and now. Somewhere Mickey left us thinking and more importantly, he left us a legacy; a legacy that taught us to appreciate life as a gift and be ready to part with it at any given point in time.

That evening, Van and I decided to go somewhere and we landed up at Tavern. Our favorite hang out. The DJ played “wish you were here” and I could barely control a filled throat and a tear that cried to let itself out. I could not let it go for it would bring more behind it. So I smiled and Van made a very very apt statement then, or may be before that, I don’t remember… but he said, “We should not moan Mickey’s death, we should celebrate his life”. So we do. We drink to Mickey.

Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd)

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell, Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have you found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.