Another loss--closer home

Just heard the horrible news of the death of a 42-year-old medical professor in London, my friend's nephew, last week from my sister-in-law who came back from London. Sridhar was a visitor at our Hyderabad home when his uncle and I were neighbours and colleagues at State Bank. I was at the time a first class cricketer and Sridhar was a 12 year old, I think. We played endless cricket games in our tiny compound and I was impressed with his leg spin. I encouraged him to pursue that difficult art and the poor lad kept at it for years. He told me years later it took him a long time to realise he wasn't going to make it as a cricketer.

Sridhar was happily married and his daughter is just eleven. His wife is a dancer and dance teacher, and there had been no sign whatsoever that the end was near, for even a few moments before he collapsed after a massive heart attack, he had spoken normally to them. He loved and protected 'the girls' as he called them both. My wife and the rest of my family enjoyed the hospitality of the Sridhars whenever they visited London and had been hugely impressed by his wide range of interests. For Sridhar, childhood had not been easy but if there was any scarring it never showed in his sunny disposition and warm, caring nature.

Much of what I have said here about Sridhar in his adult years is hearsay, learnt through my wife and in-laws, who had regular interactions with him. He and I rarely met during the last three decades, though when we did, it was very pleasant and warm. Both of us had happy memories of our cricket battles in Hyderabad and we enjoyed revisiting those memories.

In family circles, I have been known to be the strong man in times of loss of dear ones. This time, when I called Sridhar's uncle to offer my condolences, it was he who had to console me. It's probably the unfairness of it all that shattered me so.