Remembering Sandeep…

Because of a huge storm, couldn’t make it to the temple on the day of your birthday like I had planned.  So the next day, Sunday evening, Sethu, Ishan and I drove to our local  temple in Connecticut.  As we entered, i heard the familiar song !!  There was a Bhajan group singing “Jai Mata Ki” at the very same time.  :-)).  I just had to laugh.    I’ll take that as a sign you were thanking me for the birthday wishes.

Jai Mata Ki , lil brother !!

hey sandy,
missing your smile! laughter!
am sure you must be watching from somewhere.
happy birthday!
hugs from unnikkochacha

My dear dear brother,

If you were here today, I’d call to wish you on your birthday.

As March approaches, memories of you flood the mind, but it is with dread that we all think of that day in May….

But today should be a happy day - one that celebrates the beautiful times we have all shared with you.

Random thoughts and memories crop up on a regular basis in the most surprising of ways. I like to believe in my own quirky way that these are times you visit me. Sigh.

Still miss you and love you dearly.

With love always,

Valli.

Hello Sandeep,

The clock reads 20 minutes past midnight now. This Diwali, which has just left us, is a very special one for me.

Viji miss, Mala miss, Vinod and I visited your parents and grandma at your home. Your pet dog was quite surprised at seeing unfamiliar faces and it did let us know that it didn’t recognize us! An array of neatly laid diyas, lighted by your mother, greeted us into the house.

I was seeing your grandma for the first time, though I have spoken to her over the phone on a few occasions. We couldn’t meet Duleep, since he is in Bangalore.

We talked for a long time and together we relived some of the wonderful memories that you have left behind with us.

You live in our hearts, Sandeep. For all of us, SCHOOL == SANDEEP MENON. Not a single day passes without taking your name. Somehow, out of nowhere, you come up in a discussion or your ever-smiling face flashes in our minds. You were truly special - one of its kind. I have never met another person like you. You always made us smile and now your memories are doing the same. Truly, SMILE is synonymous with you, Sandeep. It had a sparkle of deep genuineness.

I have known you from the age of five. And whenever there was a choice to make, we surprisingly ended up in the same place (Second language - Hindi, Plus Two - Computer Science, Engineering College - MEC)!

You were always happier than your friends about their achievements. How many times have I seen the glow on your face, when somebody shared their joys with you? And how many times have I seen the pain on your face, when somebody shared their sorrows with you? You were a symbol of kindness and compassion.

Your forthright attitude made you all-the-more endearing to all of us, for, we saw in you, a true friend who was honest, reliable and trustworthy. Your were a person of highly commendable integrity.

We all miss you deeply.

Teena C H

Happy Birthday Sandeep Chettan!!! I checked the website today without realising that today is your birthday!What a coincidence!Miss you lots dearest brother and i hope you have a blast in heaven

Another birthday without being able to pick up the phone and wish you.  So yet again, I spent the day remembering all the fun times we had together.  Love you always. Happy birthday Sandeep.

Always, always your kunjichech.

Sandeep

May 3rd .. lots happened .. but I still doesnt seem to hit me that you are ACTUALLy not here!

I guess..Good old memories kept YOU intact in my heart!!

Luv

Sheryl J

P.S. I am married now…Mrs Sheryl Jobby Mathew..;)..(he he.. I can hear you Howling..:) ..)

Dear Sandeep chettan,

Ça-va bien?

I must say that it has been a tough year without our frequent GMail chats. Where else can I get the latest cheesy jokes, music recommendations and tips on how to improve my Malayalam? Fortunately I had some great memories to cheer me up. Here’s one that never fails to bring a smile to my face…

When Chettan and I were planning our first visit to Kerala without our parents (Dec. 2006-Jan. 2007), you replied, “Are you guys always accompanied by an adult? Man, everybody is so scared. It’s like two 5-year old sisters visting Africa!” Fortunately, you were there to make sure that we didn’t get into too much trouble. But then again, we got food poisioning from a tiny dosa hut in Bangalore, so perhaps everyone’s concerns were justified.

For a moment, Dulu was worried that this fiasco would keep us from visiting in the future. But don’t worry! After you spent years trying to instill Indian pride in us — teaching us how to play cricket, translating movies, getting us the latest music, etc. — it will take a lot more than an upset stomach to keep us from coming back!

Also, here is an update that I think you would enjoy…

The American Cancer Society hosts an event called Relay for Life, where hundreds of people come together to fundraise for cancer research. I’ve been going for the past 3 years. I think you would like my fundraising technique. I got a plain white shirt and wrote “3-for-$1 special: A hug, a dance, and a compliment.” I walked around and solicited donations in return for these services. Last year, I got about $35 in 90 minutes — a much better rate than most business or engineering jobs would provide!

Anyway, I just thought you should know that we will never give up the fight against cancer, and more importantly, we will never run out of our great memories of you!

Love,

Viju

A year. 

I know I speak for everyone, when I say I can hardly believe life has gone on for a whole year since.  I dont want to say, ’since you left us’.. because that is not true.  You are with us all the time. In our memories of our times together over the years. In our imagination of how you would have reacted to events in our present - if sandeep were here, he would have said this….if sandeep were here, he would have really liked this..

You had a way of becoming the center of attraction of any room you walked into.  And you still are.  You are always with us, Sandeep.  

Lots of love, your kunji.

One hundred yards from our house to the road,  is laden with wet mud and canopied by some of the wildest flora both of us have ever seen. Grand mums would call it the art of gardening but to us it was just another hindrance to the trajectory of the ball. Incidentally, this ball was none other than the holy ball, the Fevernova, together with which Zizou buried his offence, Nakamura bent his voluptuous free kicks and ‘Ale’ (as He would call Del Piero) dazzle with a dribble. It was His birthday gift, but I was the one more exhilarated to even touch it. That was where we would practice day in and day out. Practice would be an understatement when the only objective was mortify the opponent, that being me! Nutmegs were the crowning achievement then, get it through between the legs and you are the man. He would make me run to get the ball if it went off target and I would hear ‘burn some calories, thadiya’ ringing in my ears. He was lanky and fast, I was stocky and super slow. Then came the free kicks which He would take never let me take. The moment it left his golden left foot, a little aggravated it may seem, but the ball would literally take a 60° turn round the electric post and the keeper (me) would be lying with a busted nose. That was when the notion of treating me as a keeper started, and every now and then when somebody came home, He would instill in them this image of fat, wide and immobile Dulu guarding the goals with his mellifluous pot belly. And I loathed every bit of that ridicule.

Despite being a fantastic cricketer, He was always into the beautiful game. Helping me improvise was not his earnest endeavour but he would relentlessly pursue it with a full blooded sarcastic tinge in every ‘tip’.

The love for the game embarked with Geethu’s dad installing the best computer game the world has ever seen, EA Sports’ FIFA 98 Road To World Cup. Although it seldom matched the visual reality of today’s 3D realm, the game’s worth did indeed surpass the strain on the eyes and the writhing of one’s fingers on the keypad. The game took the entire house by storm, both of us buried the computer’s defence with the very realistic baldness and brutality of Zizou and many a time, even won the world cup with India. Innumerable calls of ‘onnu nirth, evade nokkiyaalum ee football’ were received with little heed as they traversed from one ear to another.

Fast approaching was the 98 World Cup.

I was probably in the sixth grade when the Parisian crowd roared to welcome their own heroes, Les Blues (The Blues) inside the towering might of the Stade De France. The only information about the game I had prior to this prestigious event been that god personified Diego Armando Maradona. He knew a lot more than just twenty two stocky men running pell-mell around a lush green court, so much for an aspiring footballer. It was in the group stage that for the very first time I saw the photo of a French player, with a receding bald line, sharp features and green eyes for goals. He told me all about this fantastic player, his immaculate feather touches and deft feet. No prizes for guessing the player and if you haven’t got a clue, you should be suing yourself. But anyways, that was when our love story for the game and Zizou began and that was when I embarked on something titanic.

After a couple of years, back in school, practice had started for the upcoming tournament. Both of us stayed back every single day, improvising on the beauty and the ball control. Paolo Maldini would have been proud with the way He executed precise man-to-man marking. He shadowed me to every corner of the school ground and slid in like a boa constrictor to its prey. After every single tackle He would throw a look of disgust which had “you are just another slow coach” written all over it. Nevertheless, for the season’s first match, my name came up in the starting eleven and He had to resort to the warmth of the ‘dugout’ bench. Little did I know that it would turn out to be a disastrous start to my career. I was taken off for none other than Him and I had to suffer at least three days of relentless chorifying.

In the mean time, the most successful club in history, Real Madrid CF had acquired the likes of Zizou and henceforth, our magnifying glass shifted its attention to the glorious Estadio Santiago Bernabeu and a myriad chants of ‘hala madri, hala madri’ ricocheting between its many walls. Not to our astonishment, Zidane continued bamboozling the so called defenders with his typical trickery. And, then came the UEFA Champion’s League final against the good old Bavarians who mistook the game for a piece of cake for little did they know what was in store. We simultaneously jumped out of our seats in joy as Zizou unleashed and thundering left footed strike to the top corner. Incidentally, this was rated the best goal in the tournament’s history. I still cherish the nights when no matter how late the match was telecast in India, we would jump out of our beds, grab a cup of coffee or rather pester mum to make us two, and would cheer on weary eyed but strong hearted, the sheer number of El Derbys (Real v Barca) are evident enough. Such was the faith He and I had in the los blancos, more importantly the beautiful game.

And ‘He’ is my brother.

cum laude – Latin phrase meaning ‘of the highest praise’

Zizou – Zinedine Yazid Zidane

Dulu