Max Babi, R.I.P. |
Max was a friend. He promised to visit me “darken
your door” as he said, many times, but, unfortunately he is no more, will not
darken my door, ever. He died this week. The Facebook was full of tributes to
him one day, and the next day there was nothing. So, I am writing this to keep
his memory alive, to list some of his talents, so that Max is not forgotten.
However, I forgive him for not darkening my door.
Max was a multi-faceted person. Plasma
technologist, engineer, professor, poet, writer of humourous prose, jazz
enthusiast, translator, sufi poet, much more. I don’t know how to classify his
varied interests and preoccupations. Only God, with whom he is now, knows how
he managed to keep doing all these.
During the early days of the online writer’s
forum caferati, he would organise meetings in Pune, and visit meetings in
Bombay. He had keen interest in building communities and succeeded in his
attempts to some extent. It was during these meetings that our acquaintance
grew into friendship. He said my talent was underestimated. (I was flattered by
this and many more kind comments he made on my poems, short stories, and other
literary output.)
It’s a big loss to me. He would take pains
to comment on Facebook and I would reciprocate. Though he lived in Pune, we
kept in touch. We called each other “word warriors.” I heard he had a bypass
surgery and things weren’t too good after that. I also had my health problems.
I am managing to keep alive with yoga, meditation, and long walks. I don’t know
how Max didn’t resort to any of these remedies, let alone succumb to his
illness.
We had many things in common. We discussed
them. His writing was humourous in the extreme, and were it not for the
services of a good editor who could put it in a semblance of order, he would
have been published. I was too busy with my own work to help him out. Despite his
overweening talent, all he has published is a collection of poetry. That’s a
sad reflection of the literary community’s loss. I love Jazz but I am not as
much proficient as him in its appreciation. Only now have I seen a TEDx talk by
him about serendipity and realise what a good talker he is. He has a natural
style, all his own.
Many facets about him were not known. He
was cousin of yesteryear’s film star Parveen Babi, whose death devastated him.
He belonged to the royal family of the Babis of Junagadh, the pathans who came
to India as vassals of Humayun.
I have drawn the above sketch, my tribute
to my friend. Friend, wherever you are be the kind soul you are, be yourself
and spread love and kindness around you. R.I.P. Max Babi.
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