The things we do for Love

 There is an unspoken happiness when we are so absorbed, that nothing can disturb our focus. I’ve known to smile to myself in one of those sublime moments, as have many others. Those moments for some become their life’s longing. 

Such people intrigue and hold my attention. I’m almost envious of their focus, and their commitment to their cause. Madness of a kind- to let it consume you. The richest kind of people, the energy that surrounds them and the glow on their faces, instills in me a deep desire to get to know them, and perhaps have some of their magic rub off on to me. 

The Aranmulla Kannadi mirror makers are perhaps a handful of people in the world, to have the exclusive rights to make this choice. This is a Love that you cannot choose, it chooses you, you have to be born into it. My next item on a very small wishlist. Actually, this would be number 2 on my list. https://youtu.be/FAd2zmj9ajI?si=Dsj81UNcAFjy-72F 

And then there’s the flute makers https://youtu.be/ftltGIElKY0?si=4XqUwAwje7byH3g- Perhaps not on my wishlist, but definitely arouses my curiosity, as it’s an instrument that can penetrate my heart with its sounds. Carry me away. Invoke surrender. 

They fascinate me, these kinds of people. You meet them in the Karigars who craft with purpose. Thank goodness the Industrial Revolution did not destroy everything. The engagement to their craft is supreme, and when they are working, the external does not matter, for the internal is so absorbed in its task, that it creates its own world. 

My heart yearns to feel such joy again. My hands have not forgotten the feeling of my creative endeavors. The colors, the cords, the paint, the brushes, the fabric, the sitting up all night doing my deed! Indeed, I know the feeling, and while the feeling is not lost, I am. 

Maybe I can make a fresh start. Maybe just start with writing? Putting pen to paper, finger to keyboard, instead of burdening my brain with what longs to be set free and to flow? 

Veenu Banga

10/15/2025

10:49 pm

My dearest Neeru

  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. 

Subhash Dhawan: A life of Excellence

 Two short lines from Neeru in a text message. Telling me her world will never be the same again. 

“My Subhash left me alone. He is gone.” And, “I have no idea how will I live without him.”

We last met them in June of this year, when we all, as a family, visited them at their home in South Florida. Neeru and Subhash were always welcoming, with a large-hearted graciousness that made one feel valuable and a cherished visitor at their beautiful home, which Subhash completely refurbished to a very high standard. It had to cater to all of Neeru’s desired comforts in their retirement years. Who knew that would be the last time we would meet Subhash? 

Neeru and I are childhood friends, and in our earliest photographs together, we are around two years old. She lived diagonally across my grandparents' home on Babar Road, where I was raised in my infancy and early years. We were constant playmates and grew up together as children. Our bond continued into our adolescence, and during our teenage years, we shared our crushes and heartaches. Our sari-wearing phase occurred at the same time, ushering us into our marriageability. 

Neeru was the first amongst us to get married. We were in awe of her groom, with his “sone ke Baal,- with golden hair” as Neeru described him with a nervous excitement, after their first meeting. Subhash was a swashbuckling, tall, and handsome man. He really had “golden” hair, as bleaching hair was then in fashion amongst youth in Canada. 

I clearly remember attending the wedding. Neeru recently shared a wedding photo that shows her friends, including me, watching the couple as they took their vows and performed the wedding rituals around the sacred fire. Subhash soon whisked her away to Canada. 

As girls in proximity physically for long periods of time, we had developed emotional attachments and a secure complacency in our friendship. This was quickly reestablished when we reconnected, since Neeru’s move to Atlanta. 

Subhash always exuded a genuine hospitality which was all embracing, and never wavered, in the years since Neeru and I reconnected as adults, several years ago. My awkward trepidation at our ‘first’ reunion meeting was soon dispelled as the decades gap was closed by the warmth with which we were greeted at her home. Subhash had a good-hearted, cheerful dignity and reserve about him. He displayed genuine care, and I felt protected around him, as if I were in a safe place in their home. 

Subhash, even more so than Neeru, made me feel that I was not just Neeru’s friend but a valued addition to their lives. Subhash brought a proactive sincerity to his relationships. This aspect of his friendship helped nurture a deeper bond between us, and the frequency of our meetings increased, aided by the proximity since they moved down to Florida. I enjoyed their hospitality on numerous occasions, even staying overnight, with the persuasive encouragement from Subhash. 

As we interacted more often and caught up on our lives over the years, I learned more about Subhash. He had been a good son, brother, and uncle. Subhash deeply cherished his own family and nurtured their two children, Neha and Neil; and fostered a strong marriage in which Neeru blossomed and grew more beautiful. 

Earlier this year, Subhash and Neeru renewed their vows in bridal attire in the temple, with family in attendance. 

Subhash was a good provider and devoted father. They put Neha through medical school, and encouraged her to complete her Residency in London, where Neeru also visited her. They were both very proud of Neha, and Subhash adored his granddaughters, Anaya and Siana. Neeru indulgently brags about the girls, especially Siana’s love of books and her reading stamina. 

Neeru proudly recalled Subhash braving the early winter mornings in Toronto to take Neil to his hockey games, and he never wavered in his commitment, come hail, snow, or storms. They felt extreme pride in Neil’s success as a lawyer, and even more so as a wise, wonderful, and caring son, as well as a devoted husband to his lawyer wife, Catherine. The apple did not fall far from the tree. 

Subhash’s open-door hospitality fostered strong family bonds, and Neeru’s younger sister, Archana (Bablee to us), and her husband, Barjinder, along with their children, often visited from Vancouver for extended stays. In fact, Bablee’s children were so close to Subhash that they trusted him with their confidences and valued his advice. Coming from a place of abiding love, Subhash built trust and respect with ease and efficiency. He could exert influence over the younger generation, who knew they could trust Subhash with their confidential issues. 

It was lovely to meet with Bablee and Barjinder recently on one such visit, thanks to Subhash and Neeru, who drove down to Orlando with them. Despite his respiratory health issues, Subhash retained his zest for life, and living large. In this age where secular families have become a fashion and a norm, Subhash’s household flourished with the welcome additions of family and friends. I always felt at home around him. 

Subhash had an excellent sense of design and an impeccable style. Their home reflected his good taste, his love of life, and his generosity with his own and others. 

The void left with Subhash’s passing already echoes with the deep sense of loss felt by those who knew and loved him. With some people, it’s personal. That’s how I feel Subhash’s loss. It is hard for me to offer my condolences in just words. How can I, when I feel the loss too? 

Subhash belonged not just to his own family, but to all of us who knew him and loved being in his presence, knowing that the precious friendship he offered was a rare gift to be cherished by all who were touched by his life. Those feelings, memories, and moments shared with Subhash are all part of life’s joyful days. 

Neeru’s life will indeed never be the same; it will be colored with happy memories built with this lovable man. She will be kept busy carrying on his legacy. A giant amongst the generous. A class above the classiest. A husband who was the heartbeat of his wife. A father who showered his children with the priceless gift of Presence. 

No one left empty handed from meeting him, whether they wanted or not. Being in the presence of Subhash was a gift. You will be dearly missed, dear Subhash, by all who knew you. We feel blessed to know you, and my family is the better for having benefited and been honored by your friendship. 

Neeru, Neha, Neil, and their families will keep the torch burning bright. The world needs the illuminating example of such a life as yours,  richly lived, with charity, determination, resilience and shared good fortune. Thank you for your friendship. 

Veenu Banga

October 3, 2025. 

2:57 am

There’s a new Angel in Heaven

  There was a soft knock on the door, almost inaudible. However, it warranted answering. When I opened the door, I looked down to see two small hands clutching a small box of Mithai sweets, with a bright, elaborately made Rakhi placed on top of the box. There was a tentative smile and an uncertain look on the face of the little boy holding this treasure with a questioning tenderness, and a hope that he put into words, saying, 

“Didi, will you tie this Rakhi on my wrist?” 

Thus began our relationship. One that would endure over time, distance, silences, and the vagaries of life’s ups and downs, expected and unexpected travels and turns. 

This became a ritual that continued over the years, and with each passing year, as he grew older and I gained maturity, a steadfastness in our bond resonated, which did not require constancy of proximity. 

Sanjay Dhir and I were ‘neighbors’ who lived diagonally across from each other, our homes in a block of flats were on opposite sides of the two rows of Central government dwellings, separated by common well-maintained lawns, playgrounds for the children, in this very desirable enclave called Pandara Road. Many of the allottees, such as my mother, arrived in the late 1950s when the housing was constructed and stayed on until retirement, so deep bonds were forged among residents, and festivals were celebrated together despite regional and cultural differences. 

Sanjay’s family came about a decade later, so he was initially an outsider and subject to some banter and bullying. He was a well-behaved and calm child who did not exhibit these tendencies. Sanjay was also of a gentle disposition and prone to cold and respiratory illness, which prompted his mother to keep his head and ears covered with a scarf. He was the only child with the scarf tied under his chin, like girls do. My mother called him her “little girlfriend.” 

Sanjay often fought off sniffles that were easily triggered by the Delhi winters. That set the scene for him to be quietly introspective, though not without the boyish nuances which he indulged in a restrained and balanced manner. His personality, therefore, developed differently from the other boys of his age. As he grew older, this became increasingly evident. He was the kind you could depend upon, trust, and know that, above all, he would be respectful, lacking all vindictiveness. He knew a lot more than he let on, and I was to discover later that he kept the adolescent secrets of the girls and boys of his age group. 

By now, his mother had acknowledged me as “Sanjay’s didi,” and our relationship had an unspoken promise of commitment, without any expectations. Our paths would soon diverge as we headed towards our futures. 

Sanjay came to me one day with the good news of his success in being selected for the National Defence Academy (NDA). I had no idea that was in his plans, and I was happy for him. We discussed it, and the patriotism and flamboyance of the Defence Services uniform had influenced his excitement. He asked me which branch of the Services he should choose. I don’t know if that was a serious question, and if my answer really had anything to do with the choice he would make. It was just one of those things that Sanjay reserved for our conversations. Never frivolity, just a sincere deference to life’s defining moments as we traversed the coming of age. I truly felt the “Didi” in our relationship. Our closeness was on an as-needed basis, devoid of regularity or expectation. 

When Sanjay retired as a Wing Commander from the Indian Air Force (IAF) and later joined Air India as a commercial pilot, it seemed the plan had panned out as envisioned when we had discussed it. By now, we had gone our separate ways, but Pandara Road still kept us tethered together.

Another thing we had in common was the discovery of Shirdi Sai Baba’s temple that had opened up in the Lodi Road area around the early 1970s. It was in the same Lodi Institutional Area, near the DTEA (Delhi Tamil Education Association) Senior Secondary School, where many of the “Madrasi” children (a common name given to all Indians from the Southern Part of the country) lived. Many Tamilians began to frequent it. 

True to the camaraderie of the residents of Pandara Road, the Panjabis and other diverse communities were also initiated into the temple, including my mother. She devoutly observed Holy Thursday by making and sharing the prasad of Chana dal khichdi and rice kheer. This became a tradition for life. 

Sanjay’s mother, Mrs Dhir, also became a Shirdi Sai Baba devotee, and so did Sanjay. We all were children of the Colony, in ways both comforting and inspiring, influenced as we were by the activities of the various communities. One of my friends, Vijaya, a Tamilian who lived diagonally downstairs from us, sang Bhajans there every Thursday, which was Sai Baba’s day, and we frequently went with her to pray in front of the framed photo of Shirdi Sai Baba. 

I have clear memories of when the temple installed the white marble statue, and the Pran Pratishtha of Sai Baba’s Statue was celebrated. Vijaya was singing in the front row as I, along with just a couple of others, diligently swept the continuous flow of milk and water, mixed with Haldi and fragrant pastes, which was being generously applied and washed down several times with milk and water, poured continuously over the Holy Statue. The fragrances and chanting surrounded us, and I often reflect on the fortuitous moments that allowed us to proactively be a part of that great day—another opportunity to unite all of us neighbors in that ceremonial moment. 

The temple tied our families together spiritually, and the Bhakti to Sai Baba became another commonality, strengthening the foundations of our community with our neighbors. Those were magical times, when diversity was celebrated. 

Sanjay had a spiritual commitment, and he was not shy of flaunting his devotion. Around the time Sanjay went to the NDA, he also visited Shirdi for the Darshan of Shirdi Sai Baba. He brought back a gift for me from Shirdi, which I have traveled with me over continents. 

Sanjay had a reserve and discreet maturity that was uncommon for his age. Just yesterday, I found out from my friend Neelam, who lived diagonally below our house on the other side of Vijaya’s, that Sanjay studied Mathematics with her and Jyoti, her elder sister. That Sanjay’s mother credited, “Neelam and Jyoti for his acceleration in academics, especially Maths,” and “Veenu for his increased confidence.” It was heart-warming to re-live those transitional years on the periphery of adulthood.

We were not in touch for some years. While Sanjay attended my wedding and I was in Delhi to attend his, in subsequent years, our paths diverged and took us in different directions. Sanjay was a devoted son and elder brother. I met Sanjay’s mother in Atlanta where she was visiting her older son and his family. It was good to see Mrs Dhir again. 

I had found out that Sanjay had become a single father to his beautiful daughter, Niharika, ‘Noni’, when she was a small child. He poured his affections into the love of his life. I met Noni for the first time in London. She was studying law at King’s College. I was in London for a week, and Sanjay facilitated a meeting. At her suggestion, we had decided to meet at the Lahore Kebab House. 

We took a bus from White Chapel, where we had our Airbnb, and headed to the location. A few minutes later, two girls of Indian appearance boarded the bus chattily, and I gasped in recognition. It was Noni! She favored Sanjay in appearance, and I recognized her immediately. 

Sanjay was the kind of person who could be a rock for others in relationships, but after we reconnected, I could feel a difference. A passing fragility brought upon by life, that all of us have moments of, had touched him too. That notwithstanding his resolute nature, his generosity of spirit and all-embracing compassion never left him. We had one conversation over the phone, during which I poured my heart out to him with as much brevity as I could muster in one of my own fragile moments, and he was present for me. 

Another time, I unhesitatingly reached out to him when I needed to pay INR 200 in India for a book that an editor friend of mine, the author, wanted me to review. This, even though we hadn’t really been in touch, I knew I could ask him and feel no obligation. 

So, yesterday, when Rajiv, another friend from Pandara Road, called and gave me the news about Sanjay, I was deeply shocked. It was the first thing I saw when I opened Facebook, and I knew Rajiv was right. I was not yet ready to offer my condolences to his family because it could not be true, but what could it be? Perhaps I expected a follow-up to confirm that Noni’s and Sanjay’s Facebook pages had been hacked, and that this news was not trustworthy. I called Neelam, and she was just as shocked. 

My heart has been restless since yesterday. I did not feel like cooking or eating. Sleep did not come easy. I told a few people close to me, still in disbelief. Woke up at 4 am and 5 am, and restless thoughts returned to all the moments shared with Sanjay, seeing him in my mind's eye, as a child, then a teenager, and now, reflecting on the family photo of Wg Cdr/Capt. Sanjay Dhir. On September 8, 2025, he posted pictures from San Francisco. 

Captain Sanjay Dhir. Wing Commander, Sanjay Dhir, IAF. Captain Sanjay Dhir, Air India. From a cherished resident of Pandara Road to a beloved and revered resident of Nirmal Vihar, which embraced and honored this hero, a gem of a man. This was the man who raised the flag at all the community National festivities functions at Nirman Vihar. On Independence day there he was in the Facebook photos saluting the flag as the neighbors cheered him and honored his Service. 

Today is Dussehra day, and the flames at the Lodhi Road crematorium must have hungrily fed on the mortal remains of a pure soul, the likes of who don’t come easily anymore. Fly away, free bird, fly, Sanjay, fly! Touch the sky on your way out to Heaven. 

Heaven has gained a new Angel. What we have discovered is that goodness lives on. I have personally come to understand that some love never truly dies. Love evolves with us. Some relationships are so cherished and so worthy that they cannot be tainted by sorrow and are to be celebrated. Sanjay was such a personality, such a life. In all his mortality, his love, compassion and dignity survive. An extraordinary human being who was one of us, as I speak for all of those who were privileged to be a part of his life on Pandara Road. 

Veenu Banga

October 2, 2025

3.39 pm.