5th May 2022:

In memory of Lorsu, who passed away exactly one year after my father on the 5th of May ’22.

Who’s Lorsu?
That’s a question I often came across growing up and had no straight answer to. Saying neighbour seemed too distant and saying uncle meant I couldn’t answer further whether from mom’s side or dad’s.

To me, Lorsu played many roles, he was a friend, a father, a grandfather, a handyman, and forever my cheerleader. A support system like no other, who would come to my aid at my beck and call. He often took upon himself to resolve even my slightest inconvenience. He pampered me like nobody’s business, but if he seen me do something wrong he’d let me know in the calmest way possible.

Seeing Lorsu always brought a smile on my face. It was comforting knowing he’s around the house somewhere reading the newspaper and probably learning it by heart as he sat with it for hours together.

He spoiled me from childhood with food from all over camp, bun maskas, chicken sandwiches, puffs, cakes, shrewsbury biscuits and so much more.

For Lorsu, I was a trend setter and everyone would follow, I did everything the best and everyone else was just trying to be me. If i didn’t like someone and told him, it was automatically “we” who didn’t like that person. He made me feel like the main character in both, my movie and his. 

Always with an ironed tucked-in shirt, denims, white shoes, wrist watch, a pen in his pocket and always walking. A sharp dresser, a home-food connoisseur, a thorough gentleman, above all, the kindest soul I’ve come across. 

I’m glad I got to say a proper goodbye to him, but then again he never even left our house anytime without saying bye to us even if we were on work calls or studying, he’d make sure he says bye.

So again, Who’s Lorsu?
He finally answered that for me by referring to me on his deathbed as his child.


His truly,
Chikoo boy.

5th May 2023:

It’s been a year now. Wish you waited a little longer, okay maybe a lot longer. I still look out for you when I’m passing by in camp, when I pass by the lane, Yezdan, JJ garden, Oasis. I miss the morning surprise bun maskas, puffs and more importantly walking up to you sitting in a corner reading the paper. I miss your whistle before you gently knocked the door, I’ve adopted the whistle part just to keep it alive. I wear your watch every time I think of you a little more. I miss your random calls where you couldn’t hear half of the things I said and just boiled my blood instead. I miss you asking me what I’ll have for breakfast on a regular Tuesday morning and show up with it in an hour. I miss doing your phone recharge and buying you the same styled shoes every once in a while, best money I’ve ever spent.

By the way, all the watches at home have run out of battery, my jeans have faded, need to dye them, needed some darning done too, life was better when I didn’t have to worry about these things, you’d just magically fix everything in a day. Also, from where you used to get the chicken puffs? Haven’t eaten the same ones since you left.

Christmas isn’t the same without you. We had a poor attempt at decoration last year, we tried, but the Christmas spirit left with you. No one pestered me to do the crib as much. No one spoke about Christmas a month in advance. No one was as excited to buy a new shirt to celebrate.

I never got the chance to thank you, for being my peace when the world was chaotic, the one person who listened when no one wanted to, the one person who understood when no one could, the one person who believed when everyone gave up, for standing in my corner through everything. There’s no one like you.

I hope everyone grows up with a Lorsu in their lives, the world would be a better place, a happier place.

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