The first time when I talked to the doctor from Washington about his condition, 'He may not survive. He may die', he said. I swallowed, unaware as to how to respond, my dad stepped in and brought me to the present sensing my horrid silence with gaping eyes while my organs seemed to sink and swirl into a deep black hole of the body, 'Its okay, there's nothing we can do about it. Say thank you.' I did the same and cut the call.
Vivek was a lot of things to a lot of people. To me, as an elder bother, I have memories of him scaring me off after we'd finish watching horror shows as kids, to introducing me to varied genres in music, to making me look forward to new and interesting lessons in school, to being an absolute rock in the past year and helping me figure things out and even going out of his way to do them for me like finding the right universities and filling the college apps for instance. He weaved together my present and past with his insightful knowledge and paved the way for the future. Life with him has come a full circle.
(Vivek, you're gone and so is my taken for grantedness for life, people and experiences. You've recently introduced me to what it is to have and experience a network of family support system coupled with the warmest hugs and acquainted an array of your people, the ones you knew so well and the others who knew you, and mostly the love whose forms were so tangible. I'm grateful to you, them and the consequent conglomerate.)
From his friends and associates I'd hear stories of his charismatic self and demeanor. He took it upon himself to lead the life he intended and contribute in every degree to enhance the lives of those around him. A sense of casual fashion was one of his recent acquisitions I noticed with incorporation of some elements of Punjabi heritage.
What we as siblings had distinguished for ourselves is how everything exists in language. And that representation of feelings happens as a consequence of language and not the other way round. So let us, through the gift of language we humans share, create an empowering context of living for ourselves and our people at this time.
When I tied a heart shaped bracelet on his wrist that the BC organ donation team gave me, I realised, and shared later with mom, that if we have to continue living, we have to live as beautifully as he did. Be courageous to make the choices we have always wanted to, be expressive of the love we have for people, loved ones or absolute strangers, nature and life in general. And above all, live it with zeal, because that's how its supposed to be lived.
Robin Williams from the Dead Poets Society would be smiling from his grave, for I know, that this boy had always seized the day and made his life extraordinary. He was a photographer, an aspiring filmmaker, a musician, an engineer with an inclination towards recognition of Punjabi poetry along with a penchant for writing postcards and above all, an amazing human being with an infectious smile and a solid strength of the mind and words. And most importantly, he lived life his way, fully and without regrets and entirely in a little short than twenty three years.
He wrote below one of Instagram pictures, and I quote, 'I can bet I'm in one percent of the most happiest people in the world with the best quality of life. Have coolest friends, mentors and people around. And am grateful to everyone for all the love.' Well, his flair for grammar isn't comparable to the flair with which he lived his life.But I'm sure that's excusable, right?
In the end, to those cuffed with questions on the futility of life, "Whitman answers, 'That you're here, that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.' That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute verse. What will your verse be?"