Words fail me, yet they do not. They’re constantly buzzing away in my mind- speaking in long and short sentences and sometimes repeating themselves. They’re just words, yet not quite. We talk with words, and yet, I cannot conjure up the courage to call and say something to you. That’s where words fail me. Where words do not fail me, is here, on the keyboard. I can write my heart out to you, but I cannot respond to the ache in your voice, or face you and say anything, because the heartbreak on your face will be evident with or without words. And what words can I have for that?
What words can one offer as consolation when consolation is not justified? It wasn’t his time, and despite his health struggles, he persevered on. And people may say, it was your love, Neeru ji, and that it was your devotion that Subhash ji did so well for as long as he did. However, I beg to differ. What I was privileged to observe was the love Subhash had for you, it was his love, his love for you, that kept him going, because he had in that love, a thousand reasons to stay, he had in your face, a thousand sunrises to witness, he had in what you had both built, a thousand reasons to feel proud. And while I may tear up as I write this, I know words will fail me if I were to try to speak to you. What can I say? What is there to say? That God Almighty prevails, yet somehow, even He refrains from anything drastic, anything hasty in the face of such a loving man.
Across the oceans, over a poorly connected Zoom call, I was with you at the final moments of goodbye to his mortal remains. Your heart-rending sobs in your uncontrollable grief moved me to tears, and in the sense of helplessness, seeing you, Neil, Neha, Bablee, Barjinder, and all the others present, there was a sad sense of finality that was hard to accept.
Is that it? Such a precious human life, and how quickly they rushed him away, and the shutters dropped as he was taken away, out of view. Such a quick sense of finality, just like the suddenness of the last breath. One breath and then, no next one? Were you with him? All the finer details- none of that matters, none is essential. When he is gone, what does it matter how?
When I finally meet you, sweet Neeru, my precious, gentle Neeru, my dearest childhood friend, when I eventually meet you, we will celebrate Subhash’s life. I will tell you how much I loved listening to him recount all the stories of your life together. All the moments we missed in each other's lives as we went our ways and raised our families. His voice is fresh in my memory, and so is his laugh.
Subhash making light of his machine’s ringing, which used to frighten me so much. He laughed. He made light of it. He was calm, collected, and composed, so well-balanced—most of the time. However, there were profound moments when he was preparing you for it. These lasted but briefly, almost spent in passing. Then there were the reminiscences, from the early days, till the now.
I loved listening to his stories, and when we are together, I will ask you to repeat them. Remember the time he was going to get the Franchise you had both decided on? The lure of those Golden Arches could not seduce him enough, because when the call came from home, he rose to the occasion and allowed that one phone call to change the trajectory of your future. He never looked back; there was no remorse, just a forward-thinking spirit of entrepreneurship that rewarded you for his good intentions.
How was he so wise, I wonder? And why was I so fearful that I couldn’t allow him to see my messy home? That he would be disappointed in your friend? How stupid was I? I now feel blessed that we shared a great sense of camaraderie around our dining table, breaking bread together, and making memories with dear Bablee and Barjinder. Those were special moments. How much of an effort he had made to drive down, despite what he was stoically going through.
How quick Subhash was to conjure up a plan for my kitchen, as I complained to him about the dissatisfaction I had with my kitchen’s layout. He was sharp, astute, intuitive, and insightful. No wonder he was such a success. How brave to leave his job and confidently march towards a future that he envisioned, and make a success of it.
Besides his stories, there were all the moments that wrote your own story. Subhash’s decisiveness, his vision, and how he purchased the house for your retirement. How the community and activities fulfill all your needs. How he remodeled and refurbished it completely, into your beautiful and comfortable home. He spared no thought or expense for your comforts. How can one not celebrate that?
When we meet, we will surely miss him, miss Subhash very much. When we meet, we will gather all the memories we can and cherish them to our hearts' content; we will celebrate him.
Look after yourself, Neeru. Your Subhash would not have it any other way. Keep up your self-care. He’s going to be watching over you. Keep your beauty Parlour appointments, your hairdresser, your yoga classes, your water aerobics, and enjoy your clubhouse. Enjoy everything he built for your pleasure. Give him that, don’t let your sadness take away his joy from you. That which he has built for you, let his love continue to nurture you, so that all his efforts are not in vain, but instead reap the benefits that he intended for you.
So sweet, Neeru. Forgive me, but I’m not able to justify any condolences because I see no justice in his passing so soon. All I’m trying to find is understanding what remains, what remains of him, and that would be everything you and the children have. What makes up your psyche, your memories and moments, and what houses you and what resides in you. They’re all the color of Subhash. The color of a fine human being, a noble soul, and someone who is being remembered with reverence and appreciation. And he was yours, Neeru. All yours.
With lots and lots of love to you, my sweet Neeru.
Veenu Banga
12:33 am on October 9th, 2025.
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