With a touch of jealousy, I must acknowledge that most of Mooli’s numerous friends have known him far longer than Sonia and I have. We first met Mooli and Nans a mere 17 years ago – the blink of an eye compared to his chums who were in school with him a half century ago, batch-mates who shared memories with him from college in the 1970s, colleagues who spent an entire career with him in the IAS and, perhaps most importantly, Mooli’s wonderful friends from the North-East, who have enjoyed Mooli’s friendship for decades. And yet, such is Mooli’s magical warmth that we both feel we’ve known him all our lives. I deliberately say “such IS Mooli’s magical warmth” because, while Mooli has physically left us for a far better place; his warmth, concern, decency, gentleness and wicked, wicked humour will stay with us forever and remain a place of solace that we can withdraw to occasionally. There are so, so many good times to remember: Those small dinners where the quiet would be periodically broken by groans at yet another Mooli pun; the chats about his days as an administrator in Assam that left us feeling proud that the government of India had islands of such excellence – a rock star who was also rock solid; the perceptive wisdom with which Mooli could sum up a person in a phrase; and those memorable trips to the North-East, where Mooli was Godfather, Viceroy and Gaon Bura, all rolled into one. When Sonia and I jazzed off to Arunachal Pradesh for a year, we could do so with the confidence of knowing that Mooli was in Shillong. When we arrived by train in Guwahati – Sonia, 6-month-old Meera, her nanny Katherine, our two dogs Kaalu and Sandy and I – Mooli took charge of our affairs without batting an eyelid. At regular intervals over that year, we withdrew to Mooli’s and Nans’ lovely home in Shillong. Each time he would welcome our gypsy caravan, knowing full well that his life was going to be turned helter-skelter for the next fortnight. Mooli, we’ve not written that book yet. But now we will, and it will acknowledge your enormous contribution – intellectual, emotional and administrative. Nans (‘ead of house) Naintara and Naira – you formed such a strong core of what Mooli was that he remains alive through you. I can hardly believe that my phone will never again ping for me to find a message from Mooli – with a photo and a punny caption.
Rest in Peace, dear friend.