Lives, Interrupted

Lives, Interrupted
15th August 2006

Last Wednesday, on Raksha Bandhan, we received word that my younger cousin in Los Angeles, Little C, had been murdered.

I was with Dad getting an eye checkup done when the news arrived.

As we slowly found out over the course of the next two days, she and two other people had been shot in their homes while asleep one night. The guy who'd done it was a former gang member and friend, who Little C had taken in to help out.

As a reward for her help, he'd shot her. Along with her boyfriend and boyfriend's cousin. The boyfriend lost an eye, but lived. The other two died.

The suspect was arrested the next day. But for my uncle, Godfather, and his older daughter, Big C, it didn't matter.

"All I know is I've lost my baby!" he wept over the phone.

He's actually Mom's uncle, and Little C was Mom's cousin. But she was closer to my age - just 29.

And now she won't grow older.

There seems to be no real point to life when a young person dies. And Little C was the third child in that branch of my family to go in the last four years. All three my Mom's cousin, all three closer to my age.

It started the day I returned to Pune to begin my second year. My cousin Atheist had been ill with jaundice. Within an hour of us reaching Pune, he collapsed. He died in hospital the next morning. The jaundice had actually been falciparium malaria. Atheist was 16.

The second was my cousin in London, Ra. The second of three kids, he was the troubled middle child. He'd just started to build a life, when he had a heart attack. What caused it, nobody knows. He was 26.

And while in Pune, I lost a friend. Champ, my first badminton captain. The guy who'd first picked me for the inter-school team. Died of falciparium malaria. Aged 23.

Each of these four young people had so much to look forward to. Each was special in his or her own special way.

I don't really remember Little C and Ra. It'd been years since I'd seen them. But both were nice people. Little C had a heart of gold. And Ra was a young man just beginning a career.

Atheist was a bright, cheerful kid. He loved life, and was just growing up when he was taken.

Champ was in law school. In another year he'd have been practicing. Now he's just a memory.

There's nothing worse than having to bury your own child. It's something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

It's heartbreaking to see a young life tragically ended. One always expects to live till 80, see one's grandkids and all. But as we learnt again last week, there are no guarantees.

Slappy asked me something that night I couldn't answer then. She asked me if there was any point planning for the future, as we may noteven have one.

All I can say now is that the future is what makes life worth living now. Hope is what keeps us going.

But there are those who've had their hopes and lives nipped in the bud. Dreams will remain dreams. Goals will remain unattained.

Lives will remain unlived.

That night I said a prayer for Little C. And, unconsciously, for Atheist, Champ and Ra.

Something I pray I never have to do again.