Day 831

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(Saagar playing Widow Twanky in Aladdin at Durham, Christmas 2012)

Recently a young man taught me how to save pictures from Facebook. I went to Saagar’s page and found a huge treasure! Smiles, fancy dress parties, gigs, hanging out with friends, pulling faces, playing the clown, doing a ‘Usain Bolt’, being on stage …

Memories warm me up from the inside but they also tear me apart. Sometimes they sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

They flood my mind with the light of a thousand bright stars.

A million memories. Countless thoughts. One person. One love.

Love you and miss you my delightful, beautiful boy!!!

poser

(Comment: ‘Why can’t I stop myself from doing this at parties?’)

Day 822

Posted by kidsaregifts20

the-drummer

Jack Samuel on Facebook:

When I found out about the passing of Saagar Naresh, I had very little time to process my thoughts. Sitting on a train to Munich several days later, I was alone with my thoughts for the first time, and a memory of Saagar popped into my head. We were in the music room at Aidan’s, having one of our last-minute band rehearsals. At the end of a song, we realised that one of the porters had been standing outside the room, listening to us. He came in, and he said “I’m loving the music, but could you possibly play a little more quietly?” Assuming that he could hear us from his desk upstairs, we weren’t all that surprised that we were being a bit loud. What we hadn’t realised was that the porter had come from a conference in the Lindisfarne Centre at the other side of college. He had come to tell us that Saagar was drumming so loudly that everyone in the conference could hear him. By extension, Saagar was probably interrupting the whole of college. I wouldn’t be surprised if people in the other Hill colleges could hear him. Nobody drummed as loudly as Saagar.

This is a song I wrote for Saagar that day on the train. Even if Saagar and I sometimes had a different approach to life, he is such an important part of some of my best memories of Durham. He had a joke for every situation, a great awareness of the world, and the most powerful drumming style I have ever seen on a man.

RIP Saagar, this one’s for you.

Here is a song for someone who will bang the drums so loudly that we’ll always be able to hear him, no matter where he is. R.I.P. big man.

https://soundcloud.com/dontstealoursun/bang-the-drum

Day 819

Posted by kidsaregifts20

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The night temperatures are below freezing. The weather forecasts are sending out warnings of frost and black ice. I thought a hot water bottle for the night would be a good idea for uninterrupted sleep. I placed it against my lower back as I drifted off in fetal position. It was comforting and sleep-inducing, resting perfectly still against my lumbar spine. I was wrapped up in my duvet and the bottle, in a thick white cotton towel under the duvet.

Sometime during the night, I surfaced to a semi-awake state and felt a small bundle next to me. It was warm and cuddly. Still half submerged in slumber, my mind floated away into the past. My hands brought the bundle up to my chest and held it close. It didn’t move. I hugged it and kissed it. The pain of the love and the longing came back. The absolute joy of cuddling my baby came back. The memory of how he slept with his bum in the air came back. The sense of the way he moved round in his sleep came back. The tears came back. The pillow got soaked but the eyes stayed closed and the attention went to the sobs, the sadness and the breath and then slowly…the sleep came back.

Day 789

Posted by kidsaregifts20

It’s come back. Last 2 years we sat on a beach and pretended it wasn’t happening. We ignored Christmas. Overlooked it. Avoided it. This year, we are home. We are here to face it in all it’s glory and brutality, helplessly watching the abundance of ‘missing’ it precipitates. For many years I volunteered to work on Christmas as I believed it meant more to my colleagues who belong to the Christian faith than it did to me. With whatever time we had together as a family we enjoyed the social aspect of X-mas.

When Saagar was eleven, I wrapped his gift in a hurry and left the roll of wrapping paper in the ‘miscellaneous’ cup-board. When he saw the gift from Santa, he gave me a quizzical look, like a cocker spaniel and said, “But…”. That was the end of it. Although we laughed about it, the Santa story was blown away in that instant. As an adult he thought it was unfair on kids to be ‘lied to’ by their parents. We took different standpoints on matters of wonder, mystery, magic and innocence.

After much internal resistance over the last week, I finally installed a postmodern Christmas tree of white and silver twigs with pink fairy lights right in front of Saagar’s picture. Milkshake loved it and immediately took shelter underneath it. He hasn’t budged in 3 days except for short food and loo breaks. Last evening 3 of Saagar’s friends had dinner with us. I was reminded of how much fun we would have talking about absolutely inconsequential things (drivel) for hours! The fabulous combination of a sharp intellect and a great sense of fun was familiar. Laughter filled the house. American, South African, Indian and Australian accents appeared and disappeared. Stories of travels, girl-friends, dysfunctional families, Facebook pictures and safe-spaces were shared. Opinions on demands for transgender toilets and identity politics were expressed. Future plans were discussed. B showed off her new elephant tattoo and I proudly displayed my Saagar tattoo. Food was polished off. Time flew past.

Wonder what he would have looked like at 22. Wonder what he would have done after graduation. Wonder if he would have had a girl-friend. The ‘missing’ is awful but ‘what might have been’ is killing too.

It was happy and sad. We missed him. Our love for him and his for us brought us closer together. That is the new normal – joyful and tragic at the same time – 2 sides of the same coin.

Day 771

Posted by kidsaregifts20

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Back in Delhi for a few days. Any excuse.

The warmth in the air is welcoming but wrong for this time of year. I remember the city being submerged in a cold mist in early December, famously disrupting flights and traffic. In the absence of central heating, the houses used to feel the same as being out in the freezing open. Getting into bed was like plunging into icy waters. Getting out was the same. Electric room heaters had most of the family huddled around it in the evenings. Afternoons were spent on the terrace extracting some warmth out of a feeble sun, sitting around a news-paper, eating roasted peanuts and sweets made from sesame seeds and jaggery. Sweet masala tea was an essential part of every other hour and caloric intake, never a consideration. The multiple layers of clothing worn round the clock made everyone look uniformly shapeless.

Today most people are in jeans and t-shirts. Even a jumper is too much. The sun shines brightly and a blanket of smog smothers the city. The ‘normal’ Air Quality Index lies in the ‘hazardous’ range and yet life goes on as ‘normal’.

A lovely young lady meets me on the staircase and she is one of Saagar’s closest childhood friends. She has finished her graduation and has been in a job she loves for the last 6 months. We give each other a big hug. I silently give her my blessings even though my heart disintegrates yet again.

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