Sandeep

A chubby face. Barely any strength left. Trapped in his body. Unable to speak. That's how Sandeep Menon, my batchmate, spent his last few hours on earth.

If I could imagine his free spirit right now, he would be hovering right over my shoulder, laughing at every word I typed. 'Trapped?' he'd say, 'Damn right! But chubby? Give me a break, I was still as handsome as ever!'

That's how I remember Sandeep: Funny, enthusiastic, positive, this one bright beam of energy.

He was not my close friend. I can't tell you what his favorite color was or how he liked his food. But he was one of those magnetic personalities whom you couldn't draw away from.

Everyone from my college days knew who Sandeep Menon was. And almost everybody can tell you how he touched their lives.

In my case, he gave me that extra shot of confidence. He never once made fun of my broken Malayalam. Called me pretty when I felt least so. And when I was most worried about changing jobs, all he said was 'Go for it. You won't regret it.' And I haven't. Not one bit.

Like I said, I didn't know Sandeep much. I visited him when he got sick for the first time. Met him a couple of times in Bangalore. Scrapped each other on facebook. After that, I didn't keep in touch.

When Sandeep got hospitalized for the last time, I didn't want to see him. I preferred to keep only happy memories of him inside. Call me a coward, if you will.

Sheryl let me know as we spoke on the phone, 'I can't imagine a world without him.'

I don't think a lot of people can.

Right now, I can't get myself to say 'Sandeep, may you rest in peace.' Because having known him, this would be more apt: 'Dude, have a great time at that never ending party in the sky'.

Anyway, Sandeep, my man, someday we'll meet again. Till then, I have to say... goodbye.