By Dr. K. Javeed Nayeem, MD

The year was 2006 and I was one of the members of Anjuman-E-Hadiqatul Adab, then nearly a century-old small organisation, which with its handful of members, had always been working towards preserving and promoting culture, literature and communal harmony in our city. That was the year we Anjuman members decided to do something novel by holding an Eid Milan dinner every year after Eid-ul-Fitr, the festival marking completion of Ramzan, the month during which Muslims across the world fast.

We felt that instead of only members of our community celebrating the Eid, it would be better if we made it an occasion where we could invite members of every other community and every walk of life, to share our joy at an evening get-together.

Our very first Eid Milan became an instant hit with Mysureans and the nearly fifteen others that followed it, year after year, were no different in their ability to bring different communities together, in a unique spirit of joy, brotherhood and camaraderie.

We held our very first Eid Milan function at Olive Garden Hotel and among our other guests K.B. Ganapathy, Founder-Editor of Star of Mysore (SOM), whom we sadly lost last Sunday, was also there on our list and so I went personally with a few of my friends to invite him.

Thanks to our long-standing closeness and the very high regard and affection he had for me, KBG, as he was fondly known to all who knew him, never used to miss any of the functions to which I would invite him. On every occasion, he would agree to come, only if I promised that I would not ask him to speak. And, although he held on to his part of the promise every time and come, I would break mine, every time, by making him speak!

This time, he looked at the Eid Milan invitation card with a queer expression on his face and said, “Doctor, try as I might, I’m simply unable to pronounce the tongue-twister name of your organisation, but I shall certainly be there to relish the famous, tongue-tickling Eid Biryani with you!” And, on that eventful day he was there on time, as he always used to be, at every function, with the rare kind of punctuality he was long known for.

Another one of his sterling qualities was that whenever he attended a function or a lecture, he would with perfect decorum, always sit through its entire duration, without leaving in the middle and would always mingle freely with all other guests.

Seeing that there was still some time left for our function to start, he called me aside and said, “Doctor, you may not know what I know from my long experience, but good biryani always tastes even better, after a brief round of some drinks. Since you people will not be serving them at your function, can I just slip away for a short while and have a quick drink and join you all again?” I knew how much he loved his customary pre-dinner drink and so I said that he was most welcome to do it and escorted him into the restaurant.

But it was not so easy for him to keep his promise to me this time, because the moment people saw him entering, half a dozen of them sprang up from their seats and pulled him into their fold, with undisguised elation. He was a most popular man at all gatherings, for his warm and effusive company and his terrific sense of humour. There is nothing like good company for a man to get lost and lose his sense of time and on our first Eid Milan day too, by the time he was done with his friends and joined us, the very brief formal function was almost drawing to a close.

Looking at the good time he and his friends were having over their drinks, I too had thought it unwise to disturb him, by calling him away till the dinner was served, which was the main highlight of the evening. He was, therefore, the last one of the few people who came to the rostrum to convey their Eid greetings but he stayed with us for the dinner, which he said he relished very much.

I knew that his compliment was very genuine but I did not know for sure if his enjoyment of the biryani was due to the culinary capabilities of our chef or the magic of the drinks he had had!

As he was leaving, he called me aside once again and told me that since he had missed most of what had transpired in the formal function, he would be happy if I could send him an e-mail the next morning with the details so that he could arrange for a report to appear in Star of Mysore. I reassured him that I would take care of the matter and saw him off at his car.

The next day, I prepared a fairly detailed report, both about the purpose and the proceedings of the previous evening, preferring him to do his own editing and tried to mail it to him. To my bad luck, my internet connection was down and I could not send the mail and so to beat the day’s printing deadline of the paper, I decided to deliver a hard copy to him personally at his office. He welcomed me very warmly and took my report into his hands with profuse thanks.

After going through it, he called Meera, his assistant editor and handing it to her he said, “Carry this today, as it is, without making any changes whatsoever.”

I felt more than a little surprised but extremely happy with this act of unusual magnanimity, that was coming from a man whose job it was to sculpt and trim anything written by anyone else. He then sat looking at me silently for a long while and then, after this pregnant pause, with a wide smile he said, “Doctor, I do not know how good you are at your job, because I have never been your patient, but I feel that you are completely in the wrong profession. You should have been a writer and a journalist! With your kind of writing, why don’t you write a regular column for our paper? I would be most obliged if you think about my proposal and agree to it.”

But without thinking even for a moment I said, “Fine, let’s call my column ‘Over a Cup of Evening Tea’ then!” And, that was how this weekly column was born, completely by accident and thanks to a momentarily bad internet connection! Yes, sometimes good things can come out of bad situations and this is one such example.

This column has now seen almost eighteen years and KBG himself once said last year at a dinner at his house, that this was the longest running column, not only in his paper but even when compared to the track record of many other columns, in other newspapers too. Yes. Eighteen years is indeed a very long time and even I’m more than a little surprised that I have been able to find a suitable subject to write about, week after week, which I have found is not an easy task, although writing about it is not at all a problem for me.

But thanks to God, I’ve been able to do it and earn the admiration, appreciation and good will of the thousands of my readers across the world, who eagerly read  SOM, both in print and on the net too, thanks to the whiff they get through it, of all the good and bad that happens in their city and its                       distant environs too.

I get many bouquets for what I write, which I cherish very much and on rare occasions, I get some brickbats too, which I take in my stride and remain undeterred. This column had become a strong and lasting bond between KBG and me and we would discuss many things, both in person and over the phone too, especially about the books we read, because of our great love for reading.

On Friday, just two days before he passed away, he called me up to tell me that he was not feeling too well and that he was just back from a brief stay at the hospital. He said, “Doctor, you are a man with a lot of positivity and so I would like to have a long talk with you in a couple of days, as soon as I recuperate a little. I wanted to pay him a visit on Sunday but sadly, that never happened because he passed away on Sunday morning.

But the silver lining to the dark cloud his exit has cast over all those who knew him is that he led a long and full life, living on his own terms and departing with his boots on, without tasting the pangs of old age, which is what most people dread. This alone made him a very lucky man!

And, before leaving, he paid me one of the best compliments I’ve received for my writing. On 28th February, 2024, he had invited a small of group of doctors and their spouses to his house, for dinner. That is when he told my wife and me that he would host a special dinner to celebrate the completion of the twentieth year of my column because he liked my writing very much.

When I asked him what was so special about it, he winked at me mischievously and said with a broad grin, “Doctor, you have an elephantine memory which I envy and whatever you write and whatever you speak, are both very enjoyable, because they are both laced with subtle humour.  They are both like what a pretty lady’s skirt should be — long enough to cover the subject and yet short enough to keep it interesting!” Rest in peace Dear KBG, you and your humour, will both be badly missed!

e-mail: [email protected]