Can't register the fact that Girish is no more. For only 25 years he walked the earth, out of which only four in Nitte. Yet it seems like a lifetime or more. Yesterday when I came to know that, I could no longer see him or talk to him, hear his profanities ringing loud in the hostel corridors or the beat of his tabla for the college shows, it struck me that all of us who knew him would feel something precious removed from their otherwise ordinary lives. I, like so many others, probably hadn't spoken to him in months or years, but now that he's gone.... every memory of Nitte would remain incomplete. And I feel sad, though I had the chance, that I didn't pick up the phone or write him a note. Now that its too late, and that shedding a tear will not bring him back, only the beat of his tabla remains....
God bless your soul, Girish!
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