The last time I saw Yash uncle was when I was chatting with my friend Arjun (Sablok) and he stopped by. As I customarily do, I stood up immediately upon noticing him, and he kept his hand on my shoulders and said in his enamouring tone, “Sit, beta,” he paused, studied us in a fleeting nanosecond and went on, “both of you look like you are in a serious conversation. I wouldn’t want to disturb you both. Carry on.” That said, he left the room, leaving us with his light and feel-good aura while Arjun and I returned to our discussion of films. In no time we were sent coffee and some delicious sandwiches. That was the man, who was a legend and yet the most humble and down-to-earth human being.
When I have been reading the public
outpouring of grief I am hardly surprised, and for one reason above all – the
human touch that he emanated like no other. In an industry where the memory of
people is erased as soon and simply as the waves ebb and flow, he is someone
who left an indelible mark of his personality alongside his work.
Look at people today: they are largely
known for their occupation. And it is nearly next to impossible to find a
single soul whom we can discern and confidently say – Ah, the films he has made
are lovely, but he is an even lovelier person to match. Well, that position was
reserved for one – Yash uncle, and he took it away with him.
Love you Yash uncle.
You will be missed.
Revered.
Remembered.