For Rajan Risyakaran, an orbituary

An old friend I had known since Primary school and who I spent Secondary School days with passed away in a car accident this morning. When my cellgroup leader informed me this morning, I was surprised. The thing about Rajan Rishyakaran was that he always had an even composure, even if the sky fell so when I learned about his passing, I felt the same way as I always did about him.

There is no grief, only the sense of loss. Rajan’s passing is a loss to me. I never thought that I would feel this way. After all, we were never close.

The earliest recollection I have of him goes back to the days when we were twelve. In those days, Rajan stuck himself to a corner and never spoke much so my memories of him then are scarce.

When we were fourteen, a girl in our class used to take leisure picking on me. One time, she added an unidentified foreign substance to my bottle of water. When the rest decided not to get involved, Rajan stood up for me. He always did. But he was no exception to her bullies.

In Form Four, I was appointed as the Computer Club president for the next academic year and Rajan became my secretary. When they announced it, I thought this could be a blessing but no – he was either late, absent, or coming in for meetings unprepared. But these were probably symptoms of assisting a president who herself had much to improve.

The last time I saw Rajan was in church before I left to L.A. for a brain surgery. It was during the festive season and as always, I felt pleased to meet someone I knew from way, way back. I went up to Rajan and bombarded him with questions.

Hello-how-are-you-how-is-singapore-when-did-you-come-back-for-how-long?

I had him cornered. Since I was deaf, Rajan was also lost for words and ways to reply. He always had delays in speech production and now he must also figure out how to reply in order for me to understand. He became tongue-tied and confused. Seeing him, I was comforted knowing that Rajan never changed – he was still the way he always had been.

After spending years in Singapore studying Economics, Rajan developed better self-esteem and smiled more. Instead of speaking his answers aloud or trying to convey them through gestures, he grinned and chuckled.

That is the last memory I have of Rajan, like a hallmark.

I came back from the brain surgery with a tumor successfully removed from my cerebellum. But just like Rajan, I found it difficult to speak accurately and fluently at times – a temporary side effect.

On my back to Malaysia, I thought how Yeeu Jen would relish at pointing that out.

Alas, he did not get the chance before Rajan went to be with the Lord. Lucky Rajan.