I first met Mooli in his Assam days, maybe 35 years ago. He and Nans, Naintara and, later, Naira soon became part of what I consider my Indian family. There have been geographical time gaps between meetings but as happens in families, it is always easy to pick up where left off. Mooli’s punny sense of humour could not be missed by anyone who knew him and even in absences, emails would arrive with photo puns – chickens nestled in the back of a car with the subject line: “a hatchback?” He would never fail, nor indeed stop, however long the groans! Whatsapp messages then replaced emails but along with the “squid pro quo” cartoon came the most glorious images from the northeast. Retirement brought a wonderful outpouring of talent. We loved him for all this and for so much else: his amazing ability for equanimity, even when working for some of the most taxing bosses, and for seeing the positive qualities in people, even those with whom he did not necessarily see eye to eye. The twinkle of his eyes and that smile were – indeed still are – so infectious. My only complaint about him was that he hated to be hugged. I had to remember this consciously every time we met, since if anyone is eminently huggable it was Mooli. So hugs I cannot miss about you but everything else I do. It is too hard to imagine not meeting again, but we carry you within us and look forward to a day when the pain eases enough to enjoy Mooli reminiscing evenings. The joy and warmth you spread will live on. Travel well my friend. You left way too soon!
