The goodbye I never got to say

Listening to Arundhati Roy talking about her book Mother Mary Comes to Me, and how she was heart-smashed by the death of her mother, revived pain I can only bury, not forget.

I lost a friend this year.

The first best friend I ever had. The first to always be there for me when I called. That's not completely true. Because our friendship dates back to when childhood was still phone free.

So whenever after school, we would go for a walk, play Dumb Charades until late, he would be there, right next to me. On my birthday, he was the first one to wish me for many years.

I remember one time, since my birthday falls on a day when India celebrates its Independence and is a public holiday, cake shops and bakeries are often closed — and yet he managed to get a cake... on his scooter, with a red blooded line around his neck.

You would think it's makeup like in the films like the Joker, but it was real. It was as if he almost slit his neck. It was one of the many kite strings, often coated in crushed glass (called manjha) that hangs around everywhere on the streets as an aftermath of kite flying on the Independence Day.. because we make every celebration a sport, a dangerous sport where human life has little value. The abrasive string, while gives a nail biting game of kite flying, had almost slit my friend's neck while he rode his scooter and didn't see the fine thread, while bringing the cake to my place. And yet he reached, with a smile as if nothing happened.

I almost lost him.

I wish the almost were still true.

Our lives took life of their own, in different countries and continents, and yet we made an effort to keep connected across different time zones. I admit he needed my support more than I needed his, or anyone's, and I failed him terribly.

The conditions of employment of today's Indian youth is terrifying.

He was not the one to fit the mold.

He was not the one who went to an engineering college, though unemployment numbers are catastrophic among Indian engineering graduates as well.

My friend was passionate and street smart. If he was on my team, we would always win.

And yet when Indian youth finally finds a job, they succumb to the pressure of toxic work environments.

To me and my somewhat privilege even will similar hints of capitalism everywhere in the world, this is unfathomable. But this really happened. My friend with what would be considered a normal job in Europe, one of a bartender, was forced to consume alcoholic drinks before serving as part of the 'taste test'. I asked how would he return back home after work, and he mentioned that he would rent scooter services like Uber taxis or his family member would come to get him. I wish the employer of this bar and organisations that enable such toxic culture taking advantage of today's youth and its many challenges are the ones who taste their own poison someday and drown in it, after consuming it.

My friend started suffering from alcoholism in a way I did not fathom. He admitted he needed help, he wanted to stop drinking, but I was far away and around me is a very different relationship with alcohol. It is a beer with a friend or an aisle in a grocery supermarket. I could not fathom the intensity of the situation at a place that forces someone to drive themselves to this condition. To the extent that one fine day, when my friend returned from work, and went to his room, he collapsed from the bed, leading to an unfortunate death.

He had the courage to ask for help. I wish there was a support system for him that I could not provide. A system where it is not too late until help is finally asked. A system where jobs treat people as human beings. A system where alcohol is not a stigma but a pleasure and addiction is also not a stigma but something to address.

This is the same system where when medical examinations of a country are leaked consecutively in years, students have taken their lives and protesting on the streets, instead of providing psychological services, the entire silent generation chooses to silent the young.

Going to India would never be the same again knowing the loss that will be gravely felt.

RIP Monu.

You will always remain alive in my heart and how terribly I wish to see you again or have that one last laughter together.

You made my childhood so special and I am forever indebted.