Only the Good Die Young

I met Sanstav Paul first in the fourth standard. It was one of those times when you had an extra place in your bench and you let the new guy sit next to you. I thank God that the place next to me was empty at that point.I have shared many moments with him. He taught me a lot - ranging from airplanes, to warships to respect. I remember the time he invited me to watch the Air Show during Navy Week. When you're in your sixth grade, its something very exciting to be up at the tower when the entire thing happens. Sanstav was always an airplane freak. I think I learnt to spell airplane thanks to him. I was so lost in this area. When I met him, in Chennai, it was after 7 years nearly. We were still in touch, and he still was talking about airplanes and the aeronautic sector in general to me. I was not at all surprised by this. It took me back a long way. I'm happy to remember that when we were in Chennai, I was in the auto with him till his place, cause he didn't know the way. It wasn't the longest of reunions, short, but it was absolutely thrilling to see your friend again.Sanstav Paul epitomizes the phrase "An Ideal Son". He was academically brilliant, athletically gifted, musically talented (he used to play the guitar for a bit, I never asked him about that) and had a lot of respect for the people around him and the people who looked after him. He was an ace at badminton, despite which he scored a 95% + in his tenth boards, after which he took off to Singapore for his further education. I cherish every single memory that I have with him and am sorry from the bottom of my heart, that I forgot to wish him on his birthday. Happy belated birthday man.


"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppies or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swellst thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!"

Facebook Notes - 29th December 2008