Just like that: It’s going to be a long day without you, my friend

One of my dearest friends, Deepak Singh, who is well known in Delhi especially in business, art and cultural circles, passed away suddenly on August 25 this year. He was over 80 years old and suffered from many ailments, but all were under control and none severe enough to kill him so abruptly. By chance and impulse, I was with him that evening before he lost consciousness the next morning. He was admitted to Ganga Ram Hospital where, despite receiving the best possible care, he died the next day due to sepsis and multi-organ failure.

PREMIUM

His death is a shock from which I have not yet recovered, nor do I think I will. There wasn’t a single day that we didn’t meet, or at least talk on the phone more than once, because he was one of the most helpful and genuinely considerate friends you could have. When I visited him the evening before he became ill, he was sitting alone in his study listening to classical music. His wife, Shobha Deepak Singh, is the daughter of pioneering business leaders Lala Charat Ram and Sumitra Charatram. Sumitra Charat Ram founded the Shriram Bhartiya Kala Kendra in 1952, and after her death in 2011, Shobha took over as creative director from her mother, directing the annual groundbreaking dance dramas Ramlila and Krishna Leela. The Kendra’s iconic Ramlila has been running continuously during Dussehra since 1957 and there is hardly a luminary, including our Presidents and Prime Ministers, who has not seen it.

Deepak was the man who stood steadfastly behind Shobha Deepak Singh. A product of IIT Delhi, his administrative and financial acumen, attention to detail and relentless drive to improve creative productions in line with changing technologies made him indispensable. Not only was he Chairman of the Kendra, but he was also the driving force behind the management of Kamani Auditorium, one of the most sought-after venues for artistic performances in the capital.

He also had an innate love of classical music and dance himself, which he kept to himself and quietly – yet always proudly – rejoiced in the well-deserved awards his talented wife received, including the Padma Shri. In recognition of his lifelong contributions to art and culture, he was posthumously awarded the Sumitra Charam Ram Lifetime Achievement Award this year, with other recipients including Birju Maharaj, Kishori Amonkar, Sonal Mansingh and Amjad Ali Khan. This award was given by Dr. Karan Singh presented.

Deepak’s love for music was something he was quietly enjoying on the last evening I met him. Shobha was away for the opening of the Krishna Leela and although he had planned to be by her side as always, he decided not to go as he was not feeling well. That evening when the two of us were alone will forever remain in my memory and memory. I had no idea it would be the last time we would talk. Honestly, neither does he. In fact, we planned who the foursome would be for our weekly game of bridge, which he and I played regularly. It was a pleasure to play bridge at his house. His legendary hospitality, gentle and always smiling personality made the afternoon much more than just a game.

He spent a lot of time with Brijender, his long-time highly skilled chef, and with Shobha to plan the menu for the evening tea. In these matters, he was a foodie who himself was very fond of good food, and his and Shobha’s unforgettable dinners will never be forgotten by their friends.

Deepak’s love for food was inherited. His mother, the legendary Mrs. Balbir Singh, was a culinary icon of her time. Through her cooking classes, where she trained a generation of Delhi’s elite, and her well-written cookbooks, she made her talents available to a much wider audience. I find it poignant that Deepak gave me two volumes of his mother’s best-selling cookbooks when he said goodbye that evening. One of them was out of print, the other was a pirated copy. He asked me if I could please help with the republication. I immediately said “yes” and this is a project I really want to complete.

One thing I learned from Deepak’s death is that you must never put off the simple pleasures of life until later, because that chance may never come. Deepak didn’t believe in it. He lived like a king, but disciplined, always a friendly host and a great holiday companion. My wife and I, along with some of our dearest friends, accompanied him and Shobha for many holidays, during which, even though he and Shobha were often not in the best of health, we had a lot of fun and were able to get through a lot.

Yet even for the most enlightened among us who believe in enjoying life’s simple pleasures, there are joys we put off. The year before his death, Deepak built a beautiful terraced garden to crown his beautiful house. He had told me several times that we would use it as often as possible next winter and play bridge there in the wonderful afternoon sun.

Unfortunately, this winter has come and Deepak is no longer there to sit in the sun. He built the terraced paradise too late, and death came too soon, or at least earlier than expected. After his death, I visited the terraced garden alone and imagined him sitting in the shade of a garden umbrella, laughing with his whole body when he heard a good joke.

(Pavan K Varma is an author, diplomat and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). Just Like That is a weekly column in which Varma shares trivia from the world of history, culture, literature and personal memories. The views expressed are personal. )