Meri awaaz hi pahechaan hai

Naam gum jayega Chehera ye badal jayega Meri awaaz hi pahechaan hai Gar yaad rahe

My name may get lost My face might change My voice is my only identifier If you should remember it

This song has been playing in my head for the past few months. Always loved it but it rings true in a whole different light after Kedar’s passing away, and brings up a myriad of emotions, all different with each listen. Kedar died. That’s a sentence I didn’t think I would have to say for at least a couple of decades longer. In fact, I hoped never to have to say it, that kind providence would somehow decree that he and I go together in our 70s, that neither of us would have to face life without the other. Our daughter would be an adult, a kind and happy person, our responsibilities would be fulfilled and fulfilled well.

On the face of it, Kedar’s voice has gone into the ether along with the rest of him. From my macabre readings since Kedar’s death, I’ve learnt that the voice of a person is the first thing we forget. We remember their face, certainly their name, but the voice disappears from our memory.  Kedar had a beautiful voice, deep and rich, melodious and vibrant. He sang all the time, in tune and with great gusto. I loved listening to him sing, telling him often he should get singing lessons to further enhance his talent. Perhaps, in time, we will not remember that physical voice, the actual tones, depth, timbre of it. The memory of that voice, the memory of him singing, the memory of his belly laughs will never be forgotten.

A person’s voice is, of course, so much more than just the sound. It is their identity. Kedar’s voice lives on in all his typical turns of phrase, his jokes, his ideas, his convictions, his energy, and his love.

Waqt ke sitam kam haseen nahi Aaj hai yahaan kal kahi nahi Waqt se pare agar milgaye kahin Meri awaaz hi pahechaan hai Gar yaad rahe

The trials caused by time aren’t any less beautiful, We are here today, and nowhere tomorrow, If we should meet beyond the reach of time, My voice is my only identifier, If you should remember it

I always thought I was so easy going, go with the flow, not take life too seriously type of a person. Truth be told, I prided myself on this. I’m above all this stressing and obsessing over things, I take life as it comes, I’d think to myself. I was in fact, a world-class preener. Life has a way of knocking the stuffing out of us and keeping us humble. Taking the loss of Kedar in my stride is proving nearly impossible to do.

My extraordinary husband really did take life as it came and played the cards he was dealt with grace and courage. He did also take life seriously, planned and worked for a better future for his family. I used to think he needs to relax all the planning and strategizing, never realizing that his hard work allowed me to be the free spirit I thought he should be. Waqt ke sitam haseen kam haseen nahi is certainly a philosophy I’m having to work at now.

Kedar never once complained about his circumstances, or ask why me, or wish that circumstances had been different from what they were. He didn’t win the genetic lottery in terms of health. He just got on with things, made the best of the situation, and laughed and joked along the way. I’m learning from him now, in a way I refused to do when he was alive – Accept things as they are, enjoy life and find the funny in everything, and also do everything you can to play the hand you’re dealt.

Jo guzar gayi, kal ki baat thi Umrah to nahi, ek raat thi Raat ka sirah agar phil mile kahin Meri awaaz hi pahechaan hai Gar yaad rahe

What has passed, belongs to yesterday It wasn’t a lifetime, it was just one night If a slice of that night should be found again My voice will be my identifier If you should remember it

Kedar and I were in each other’s lives for pretty much our entire adult life. 28 years sounds like ages and yet feels like it was just a few moments. A lifetime and yet momentary. A dear friend once said to me that life is absurd, it’s a collection of memories, and all we can do is create happy memories as best we can for ourselves and each other. We only had him for a short while but what a quietly glorious time it was. We did create memories, more good than bad. In the immediate aftermath of his death, in the chaos of emotions and the merciful numbness of shock, I began to unravel a bit. I couldn’t see where Kedar ended and I began. We are so completely intertwined with one another, I couldn’t fathom how to do life without him. I realise now what a blessing that integration is. I am a part of all that I have met says Ulysses. In the same way, Kedar is a part, a massive part, a completely unremovable intertwined part of me. I don’t need to search for a slice of that night again, it’s ever present.

Din dhele jahaan, raat paas ho Zindagi ki lau, unchin kar chalo Yaad aaye gar kabhi, ji udaas ho Meri awaaz hi pahechaan hai Gar yaad rahe

The day nears the end, the night is close by Go through life with the flame of life raised high If you should remember me and your heart is heavy with sorrow My voice will be my identifier If you should remember it

And finally, the song encourages us to go through life with our spirits high, fully embracing all that awaits. Kedar embodied this philosophy, rejoicing in whatever he met. He was keenly interested in a myriad of activities – data science, cooking, music, gardening, sailing, traveling, and just learning about as much of the world as he could. To all his interests he brought his full focus and attention, the flame of life held high. He connected with people from all walks of life, all ages and personalities, really listened to their stories and helped ease their way wherever he could. A friend referred to him as the Renaissance man and I cannot think of a more apt description, one minute passionately discussing complex AI technology, the other seeking to understand why his bread didn’t rise. In the 28 years I’ve known him, Kedar grew and evolved into the person he was, learning from his mistakes, facing his faults, analysing himself, the flame of life certainly blazing bright. He loved deeply and completely. Gia, Mowgli, and I were the tremendously lucky recipients of that all-encompassing love. It’s our turn now to carry that flame forward, heavy heart notwithstanding. Kedar will live on through his words, his ideas, his passions, his deep love and laughter. His voice rings out, never forgotten.

Say not in grief that he is no more but live in thankfulness that he was.