Cloud 9 Minus One

Akash was a 47 year old alcoholic. His first wife left him because he loved his second wife more than her, and his second wife left him because he loved whisky more than her. His parents abandoned him because divorce was a disgrace for their family, and a double divorce was inexcusable. His children couldn’t decide whether to leave him or not since they were too small. Then one day his daughter grew up and decided to be with her dad. He was her dad, though she had never seen him fully sober or fully a dad. Her father, to her, was a maudlin piece of wreckage floating in the ocean.
But all of us had seen Akash before his ship fell apart. We had seen him in his full glory, when he was a brilliant Indian citizen, a student at one of the best educational institutions of this country, a talented and only mildly eccentric young man whose brilliant wit just sparkled more when mixed with a dash of alcohol. And then alcohol got the better of him, and his life halted. And then one day it ended. Cirrhosis of liver.
His cremation was attended by four people, Akash, the priest, his daughter and Mohit, his former classmate and distant friend. It was Mohit who told us of Akash’s death, Mohit who found out that the daughter was now indigent, having been abandoned by her mother for being loyal to her father, and Mohit who started a fund to see the daughter through college. And all of us rallied to the daughter’s cause. Why? Because that’s what friends are for, for never asking why, for never abandoning one, for never passing judgment on our misdeeds, for always remembering the best in us and laughing away the worst. Cause unlike family, unlike wives and husbands and errant children, friends are indeed forever.
So, Akash, you were, even in your loneliest days, never alone. There was a whole bunch of people looking out for you. And they still are.