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| Mohan in 2007 - at the launch of my first novel 'The Men Within' in his artist avatar |
Musunuru Chandra Mohan or MC Mohan was simply Mohan to all of us. He was a bundle of energy and ideas and would frequently get into the edgier side of things while I was the more cautious one. We both kept it straight between us though. He was fond of dogs and had a series of them - Jackie, a black cross bred dachshund, Sultana, Caesar and some other white Alsatians. One of Sultana's pups was brought home by my brother Ram, and was christened Caesar, and poor fellow lived a long loveless life because we weren't really dog people.
Mohan and I were the founder members of our colony cricket scene so in a way he was responsible for my cricket career to take off in this big, new city. Initially there would be Sundar Nagar vs Model Colony matches - he was in Model Colony and I was in Sundar Nagar. The Model Colony team figured out early on that I had an impatient streak in me when I got challenged or when things became too slow and they got Mohan to bowl donkey drops. I could not resist the challenge and would hit high in the air only to get caught at long on by their chief strategist and captain KV Rao. Both colonies made peace and we then combined forces and played against SR Nagar, Vengal Rao Nagar, ESI Hospital and so on and won several cork balls as bets. Mohan fancied himself as a wicket keeper and opener and would constantly find new techniques to keep wickets, mostly employing his pads to good use.
While me and Ram studied at All Saints High School, Mohan studied in Nrupatunga School in Kachiguda. Every evening he would land up at my house and we'd play - cricket, maram peeti, shuttle, or just roam around. He took me to the shop which would rent cycles for a buck. He also took me on an adventurous trek in the vast TB Hospital estate with Jackie which was great fun until some strays decided to attack Jackie and we beat a hasty retreat. We started a small library at his house. We'd shin up the water pipe to the terrace of our house and set up a tent there to read books. Once he tied a note to Jackie and sent it, and he was thrilled to see Jackie delivering the message over to me. Another time he tried to convince me and my Uncle Sampath Rao that he saw a ghost in the well next to our house. There was never a dull moment with Mohan. He was always up to something or the other, making life a bit more fun than what it offered to him by poking at it.
Once when we were still in school, my long lost cousin from the US Ratan Raj visited us and gifted us clothes etc as gifts - our first foreign relative experience. I got one lovely white and red striped t shirt - which was not my style nor my colour - suited more for the Dennis the Menace types and I knew it would suit the fair skinned and Dennis-channeling Mohan better. I gifted it to him and he loved it and the next day came around wearing it looking lovely with the sun behind him on a nice summer morning. I saw him from a distance just in time and ran to him and asked him to duck and make a getaway because my cousin has come visiting us again! Mohan quickly understood the situation and made himself scarce. He wore that t shirt for a long time.
Our other pals from the colony were Srinu, Shiva, KV Rao, Vijay, Murli, my brother Ram. Others who joined us for games were Ramana, Seshu, Baabji and some other kids. Mohan and I would plan all the activities be it cricket matches or cycling escapades or any such activities. We were the chief conspirators. There would be many twists every the story with Mohan around - always stuff that would get the adrenaline flowing and an excitement of living on the edge.
As we grew older we started going out to movies. I think we watched many movies in Gokul theatre which was the closest. He has this zany sense of humor and would imitate Kamalhaasan and others which would make me laugh a lot. We would laugh a lot. Apart from watching 'Sagara Sangamam' with him when he made me laugh until I rolled over with his imitations, the other movie experience I cannot forget with him was 'Gold Finger' at Amaravathi. He took me along and when we got to the theatre he realised he didn't have money, so we walked some three kms to Domalguda, borrowed money for the movie and the bus and some refreshments from his cousin Usha Bala who was staying in her hostel, came back and watched the fillm.
As we grew older and into high school, we drifted off a bit thanks to new friends and pastimes. My cricket took off a bit, while he made a lot of friends who were on the margins of the local mafia. Maybe by Junior College he had started smoking too but he never asked me to smoke or anything ever. I went to St Alphonsa's Junior College and he went to Babul Reddy Junior College where he would get into scraps every other day. We still met and caught up - just not as frequently. When we did, we laughed had lots of fun. He shared my joy when I got selected for the state teams and introduced me proudly to his older friends. He also figured out a unique way to signal to me his oncoming presence without coming home and yelling out for me - he would pick a stone and hit the electric pole which was as discreet a signal as any - the whole colony would know he was there by the loud ringing akin to the sound of a bell. All the other kids in the colony started banging electric poles after that and I can imagine how it must have irritated the elders.
It was at the end of our Intermediate college days that Mohan and I had been to watch a first show at Gokul theatre and had returned when we saw a policeman outside our gate asking about my father. He said there had been an accident and we should go to Gandhi Hospital. I told my Mom that there has been some small accident and I'll go check - Mohan was with me. So Mohan and I went to Gandhi late at night, searched all over the hospital, until we found Dad lying unconscious on a stretcher on the floor in a corridor, a barber preparing him for surgery by shaving his head which had head injuries. By this time Mom had called Dr Rama Rao who was the Superintendent of the hospital and well, Mohan stayed with me all night in that crazy rain while the surgery was being done unsuccessfully and till they told us Dad didn't make it. I have no idea why he stayed and how he held my energy - it was an intense experience for two 17 year olds. I had to tell Mom who was waiting in a car with Ram and my other sisters, and realised we needed to bring my youngest sister Chanti back from REC Warangal. Mohan it was, who I sent to bring her and he took the morning Krishna Express without sleeping all night and came back by 3 with her and Chitra - we even planned that he would only tell her that Dad was serious and that he would ask her friend Chitra to join her to help when she found out that Dad was no more. Mohan didn't ask a question, didn't shy away from the task, just went. We both just did it without thinking. All of that day went, funeral and all, and I lost sight of Mohan in the melee and never got to thank him. But in the toughest moment of my life till then, he was there next to me, my crazy friend.
Life went on. I joined Engineering and Mohan joined JNTU Fine Arts to study Sculpture. He made some rough friends. He started drinking, smoking, swearing. But he was always gentle, courteous and kind to me. When I came back after making my Ranji Trophy debut he invited me and my friends to his college festival, was smashed when we went there, slapped a few guys and generally created a ruckus. I figured he was just happy to see me. But that was a minor one by his standards as I know. One time he took my friend Sanjay from Engineering College to a bar near Khairtabad and they came back pissed. That was the only time they met - such was Mohan.
He would go off on trips to Agra and Delhi. I still have a letter he wrote to me from Delhi or Agra, making fun of things as usual in his large, clear handwriting which showed a transparent heart. When I started to do my MBA he went to MS University, Baroda for his PG. Post my MBA, in my job, I was travelling to Ahmedabad from Mumbai by train and perhaps wrote to him that I'll be passing Baroda at 1130 pm. He was there at that late hour, searching me out in the train! When I visited Baroda last year for the first time in my life, I visited the University and thought of Mohan. Can never dissociate Baroda and Mohan.
Funnily I don't remember either of us being present at each other's marriages. But we kept in touch, bumping into each other, catching up on our lives. He got a job as an Assistant Professor at NIFT, and his house which was previously filled with friends who enjoyed a drink or a smoke was now filled with painters, sculptors, writers. His drinking grew and he had an early bout of pancreatitis.
Pratima was his student. A dancer, writer, an artist, an animal lover. They were made for each other. Sreenu always said that it seemed like a karmic bond, their love for one another. They decided not to have any children and filled their house with dogs and cats and later on expanded to other animals, reptiles, birds, geese. I remember one lovely party we had at their house at Sena Vihar in Kukatpally a couple of decades ago full of artists and eclectic people.
When Mom died, he was there. We shared many childhood memories and he was always very vocal about how strong Mom was having seen her from a long time. He would keep dropping in every now and then with an update. He was now a Professor at the NIFT and would speak with authority on art, dance, history, fashion etc which was a complete changeover form the days at ESI Irani cafes. When I quit my bank job and told him I would write, he fully supported me - never once did he tell me anything that was not supportive. Of course, he came for the launch of my first book and really enjoyed himself. He read it and told me he liked it. He would religiously come and buy a few books (always bought, never took a free copy) to gift to friends and family. Very proud of me was he.
He had many phases. Once he used to have this auto guy to transport him everywhere. Then there was a beedi phase. Then, a phase where some babas and such people would drop by at his house. He would travel all over easily - once drove off to the Himalayas, cooking food along the way. He got transferred to Delhi, Bhopal and always invited me wherever he went. I would plan but never did go. It was Sreenu who told me recently that thanks to Mohan he got some exposure to art and other finer things in life. He would take him to Agra, Jaipur and so on. I told Mohan that and he smiled.
For some reason I would always remember his birthday on December 21 and call him. He would be happy and always acknowledged my wishes in his gruff voice. We'd plan meeting etc and then it would fizzle off. A couple of times I walked over to his house when he was in Model Colony and we spent time together. I never expected him to remember my birthday because he was not the type who would make a big thing about birthdays.
Mohan invited me to do a lecture at NIFT once. Pratima would give me some writing work to do. When Anjali was born he came home one day and insisted that I take a wooden cradle that he had at his home for the function. I was not very keen on the cradle because it involved a lot of work, transporting it etc but he was adamant. In the end it was perfect, putting Anjali in the cradle etc and a couple of days later I transported it back. Just one of those things. He was very thrilled by it. It somehow made it complete.
In time he moved to Jubilee Hills which was closer home. Once he invited me to his house for a formal dinner - and his house had a whole variety of animals - dogs, cats, geese and what not. Anjali was fascinated to see a tortoise and other such animals at their place. Mohan and Pratima had so much love for animals and devoted their lives to animal care. They have an animal care house called the Old Souls Animal Care at Moinabad which takes care of sick animals.
Mohan read a lot. He would give me some great books. 'The Moon and Six Pence' was one. I can never forget that. He understood the travails of a writer or an artist. Several other books. And he would write academic stuff, books, articles, showed me pictures of places he visited. He loved the films Ram made. He would be highly critical of other works and expect the best from them but with what me and Ram did he was extremely supportive, fiercely loyal, and would not hear a word against it. He was like a rock in that corner.
Aunty passed away. I told him I would accompany him for the ashes immersion. We drove in his Armada early in the morning and came back the same evening but the time we spent together was gold to me. He told me he had some issue driving at night and handed over his Armada to me. He was a careful driver and a good one and for perhaps the only time in our lives he told me not to drive too fast or something like that. He was glad that I could make the trip with him. I was glad too that we could catch up. Nothing like road trips for catching up. Aunty was a beautiful soul.
He came over to Model Colony and stayed with his father because he was alone. He was always very gentle with his father and very caring and thoughtful. I would meet uncle in the park and we would talk a bit. Then Uncle was unwell and there was some issue with his will do Mohan called me over to sign as a witness. I was glad to. Those moments when we caught up were rare because we were meeting very infrequently, but when we met it was like we met yesterday.
There was some depth, some stillness, something wordless about him that had grown inside these days. He had probably seen a lot more of life than words could contain. So our conversations were less wordy, more silence. Nothing to prove. I liked the way he held this space. A quiet nod, a small gesture, a couple of words. But what we shared remained the same.
His health was always susceptible but to his credit, it bore an amazing amount of abuse. Then it started giving up. His kidneys first. Pratima was willing to donate but he was not sure if he should put her at a risk. We talked about it at one of those chai joints at KBR wondering how much life had changed. I told him to be open to her suggestions, God will show the way. There was some complication after that and the decision was made. No transplant. I think he was happy at that.
Sometime last year he was unwell and was stuck in bed for a while. I asked him if he wanted to read and he said he would like to read. I took pictures of 15 books I thought he would like and sent on WhatsApp and he ticked 8 or 9 to read and I took it over for him to read. He would have devoured them in a short while. I didn't know how else I could be of help to him.
We went and met Dr Krishnan to get his advise on the kidney issue. Dr Krishnan was very kind and told him to call for any advise at any moment. And then one by one, in the past few months, his body started to give up. So much so that when I went to Delhi the last time a few months ago I was scared I would not be able to meet him again. I rushed to the hospital straight from the airport, met him. He was weak. The first thing he asked was - who told you.
I tried to meet him as often in the hospital, not knowing how long he had to live. Dialysis twice a week, in and out of ICU, surgeries, but he bore it with not a trace of self pity. His voice would be surprisingly strong. Once I decided I could not wait for the right time and just went and sat with him in the ICU for a few hours. He was sleeping, wrapped up in his blanket in a way that I could not see his face at all. I started writing this blog hoping to share with him one day (never did). He woke up sometime and saw me and asked when I came. We spoke about things. I realised laughing would make things uncomfortable for him because he had so many tubes and stuff so we tried not to laugh. He ordered coffee for me and would not let me do anything - fully playing the host. Then in his characteristic style he told me - the future is not looking bright. He counted his issues and said that all that needed to happen to him health wise has happened. 'Ravalsina vanni vacchesayi,' he said in his clear, pure Telugu. He took full responsibility and said he had abused his body. But no self pity, no weakness, just a grimace. He said he was so weak he could not walk. I sat with him, held his hand. We smiled awkwardly, not used to situations like this. Give us something stupid to laugh about and we were good, but seeing him like this was not. I hoped he would find an easier exit.
So many times I would text him or call and he would be in the ICU or having a procedure. So many times Sreenu and I planned to go, went a few times too. We wondered where he got the strength to carry on like this.
Sreenu called this evening and told me Mohan has finally moved on. I can hear his gruff voice, his laughter, his crazy sense of humor, the way his lips would stretch as he smiled, the way his eyes would light up at the prospect of adventure, the way he chuckled at something he found funny. There's so much more to write about him and I guess I will continue to write about him. He made my life so much more richer just being in it. Its been almost fifty years since I have known him so there must be something to it, some karma we shared. Not once in our time together did we fight about anything, and all credit to him because he was otherwise a volatile personality with the rest of the world. We drifted apart a bit because of our lives but that's about it. Somehow he seemed to get me exactly as I was and never judged me. Some of my fondest childhood memories are with him. Funnily I don't have any pictures with him. I do remember writing a blog when he and Sreenu came over to meet me a couple of decades ago but we lost that picture we took in Deccan Irani cafe. One group picture when we went to Sreenu's daughter's wedding. Recently he sent me a picture taken by students - "a rare one of me smiling", he captioned it. It was unusual for him to share a picture of himself like that. I am glad he did. I saved it, need to find it.
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Sreenu and Rajender were there at the funeral and they said that many people showed up at the Moinabad farm - two bus loads of students. Even when he was in the hospital the stream of students was constant which is rather unusual in this day and age - or so one thought. Even at the funeral there were so many students just sitting through the rituals with stoic faces while family and friends kept leaving - surely they must be hungry at 330 in the blazing afternoon. Choudary was telling me that one student sat next to his body and stroked his beard lovingly. They would not leave when the priest asked the women to leave. I was amazed at how much impact he must have had. We all had our impressions of Mohan and were proud of what he had achieved as a Professor but never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that any teacher can command so much love from their students. I wish I had the sense to speak to some of them but I was too caught up in my own memories. And I wish I had spoken to him about his teaching methods and learned from him.
Asha, Mohan's sister, was there and she said she remembered us as 10 year olds. She recalled that when we had first moved to the colony my mother had gifted them two plants which I had carried over to their house. Asha received the plants and she said that was the first time I had met Mohan. I do not recollect that moment but I knew for sure that he was my first friend in the colony.
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It was lovely walking the path with you Mohan. Won't be able to take the turn to Model Colony without thinking of you and our many capers my friend. Your house, like Sreenu wrote, was the first and last stop in and out of the colony. The world also won't be the same knowing that one of my staunchest supporters, greatest friends is not there anymore to cheer me on, to share my happiness and to laugh with me. That said, Mohan has gifted me a close experience of his sense of adventure, his kind heart, his fierce loyalty and so many other things and these qualities will be alive in some part of me which means he will continue to live on with me. Thanks Mohan, for everything.
