The year was 1991 and I was preparing to celebrate the completion of one more year and the dawn of another year of my lifespan. My colleagues were equally enthused to find my birthday nearing. One among them was a senior person named Ranganath. He used to fondly refer to me as Chhota Pandit. His weakness was sweets and being the youngest of the lot, I had been entrusted with the onerous task of snatching any sweet offered to him. He was diabetic and had been advised strongly to avoid sweets. The fast approaching birthday threw up a dilemma as to how I would be able to offer him sweets and the same time take it away. Luckily for me he planned a tour and was informing us of this. Impishly he looked at me and said "Chhota Pandit I will be back for your birthday" He also said he would make me pay for my earlier deeds by taking away the entire sweets. Another colleague confirmed that he would be back. However, on the day prior to my birthday, I found him missing and on enquiry came to know that he had been hospitalised. After my office hours, I returned to my room and after deliberating thought it would be best that I visit him after my dinner. After a quick dinner at about 8 pm I made my way to the hospital. On reaching the hospital, I found him on the bed but his wife requested me to procure a drug which she said was not available in the hospital pharmacy. She claimed that I was god sent. After reassuring her, I made my way to a couple of pharmacies and drew a blank. One of the pharmacists said that only a distributor could help me at this late hour. This reminded me of my lodgemate Krishna. I rushed back to the lodge and told Krishna about the requirement. Both of us set out on his Bajaj and procured the medicine. The roads were more or less deserted and we could reach in good time to the hospital. As we handed over the drug to her, she wept and asked us whether we could help her in taking out his body. This came as a rude shock. Neither was I god sent nor had my avarice for dinner helped the cause. Guided by Krishna, I quietly joined him in lifting him to the car parked outside. We dropped him home and returned.
The next day was solemn and sombre. Colleagues counselled me that I should not go to the crematorium. However, I felt I owed this to him. We all escorted him and bid him the last farewell. Mr . Ranganath had the last laugh. My birthday was never celebrated. None got the sweets. He took them all forever in lieu of the sweets I had snatched from him. Today, when someone greets me on my birthday with the standard phrase "Many happy returns of the day" , I ask to myself " Having lost a happy man on the same day could this day turn happy" From birth day it has turned into his anniversary. Never has my birthday been the same and never will it be.
