I had not met him for years. He was my best friend in college. Ajit’s friendship was like a light to me that grew inside my soul and reflected through my eyes.

After college I took up a job in Bangalore and he continued to stay at his native place.

I came home during Diwali and rushed to his house, a few blocks away, as soon as I was told that he was not keeping well. I rang the bell and then saw him beneath the mango tree, pale and sick, only skin and bones, his face trying to mask the ordeal inside. His body was so still that for a moment I thought it was a statue.

I was about to run towards him when his mother opened the door.

‘Oh beta!’ she cried out. ‘He wanted to see and talk to you. He passed away yesterday’, she howled.