I received an unfortunate news last night. One of my former colleagues, and one of the first people I hired in my post-MBA professional life, died of a massive heart attack. May his soul rest in peace. He was an intelligent, a soft-spoken, and a context-driven person.

I learn that as on any day, he came to office at his regular time using the office transport. Like everyday, he greeted his colleagues with a friendly smile and went out for smoke before beginning his workday. As he was returning back to his seat, he felt a shooting pain in his chest and collapsed on the ground. When every effort to bring him to consciousness failed, he was rushed to the nearby hospital where he was declared brought dead.

I last met with him a week-and-a-half back. He was working on a project that we had started together and he could use my help. Post work discussion, we were talking about our common interests – travel and movies. Both of us had watched the movie – Kingsman: The Secret Service – recently. He philosophized that how a massive culling of human race, through nuclear war or otherwise is not a distant reality, but it should never be the prerogative of some people to decide who survives. “I think politicians shouldn’t survive in such an event. They are the most useless people. We will do well in a new world without such unscrupulous people. But I realize that you would be without work then! Haha” he joked. It is my last memory of him.

His untimely death has affected me. Like everyone, he had life-stage goals. He wanted to open a shack restaurant in Goa. He wanted to travel the world. All the plans, all the dreams are now in the void. It has left an indelible mark on my thinking about the shortness of life.

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