Mr. B

  • SumoMe

It’s such a long journey…so many people sashaying in and out of our lives, some leaving an indelible imprint, like Mr. B did…

Mr. B was one of the finest friends one could ever have. I was lucky to have him. He was a charmer…no wonder he had so many friends.

Such a magnificent persona…when he walked, heads turned – upright and robust.

I loved walking with him: the walks at dawn…the gurudwara trips at dusk and on the way:

# Philosophy: he heard I spoke…

# Career advice: I heard, he spoke…

We were opposites – he was mature I was a teen with a mind balance of a 5 year old.

He was painfully patient and I was irksomely restless.

I loved plucking raw mangoes from his neighbour’s garden much to his wrath…but he seldom yelled…his trick was ‘silence’…making me hang my head in shame when he apologized for me…

We had our share of fights…I never initiated patchups, I was too stubborn and he was too humble for patching up…following me everywhere to make up…

Mr. B was a story teller! Keeping me enthralled to his tales. I adored him because he always made me feel important…valued…worthwhile 🙂 I still remembered the day my eyes glistened with delight when he confessed- “You are my Ms.World!” [While I giggled and guffawed]

I was so flattered I wrote him a poem and he framed and hung it in his bedroom.

I am sure he felt happy too with me around, the way he introduced me to his circle of friends with an air of pride *blink blink*.

They was loads to learn from him: humility, hard work, honesty.

He would tell me: “ A person’s descent starts the day he feels he’s learnt all”

He could discuss anything – politics, current affairs, philosophy, religion.

He was the most candid person I ever met: a frank and effortless critic. He surveyed my poems and had his share of genuine advice to give me [How I could make that 9 and a half to ten].

He loathed my weird caller tunes, yes he did…so much that he would stop talking if I wouldn’t  change it ASAP!

Mum adored him too even though he always stood in front of me protecting me from her towering anger, while I hid timidly behind him…

And then one day…

It was a week since I spoke with him. I woke in the morning wanting to ask mum if he had called to talk to me. She seemed upset, she broke the news to me, He was no more..and life wasn’t the same anymore…

Because Mr. B was not only my friend…my critic, my mentor…but also my granddad…

Divyakshi Gupta

Dreamer. Born gregarious. Poetess. Adventurous traveller. Voracious reader. Avid listener. Amateur photographer.Moody cook.Notorious Blackmailer.Kiddishly callow. Embryonic philosopher. Humorously Witty.Creative.Loving life!

Image Source: [http://www.pennydaleprints.co.uk/images/Covers/AuthorIllustrator/WakUpMrB_1.jpg]

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