I’m either extremely lucky or damn unlucky. I’m lucky because I met some friends who had the power to transform me as a person. I’m unlucky because, in the span of seven years, I’ve already lost two such people to death. And honestly, I always knew I would one day write about Ashish Kakkad but never thought it’ll be so soon.
Ashish Bhai (AB) came into my life in 2014 when I was grieving my best friend Pooja’s death. AB and I met through a civil-society initiative we were both associated with. Like I had lost Pooja, he also had lost both his parents to Cancer so he could relate and offer genuine empathy.
Over the years, we became a friends-family sort of a thing. I know that term doesn’t exist. You know when friends become family? I got to know most of his close friends and they became my friends too, and vice versa. He insisted that I interact with his ‘Dabba Party’ friends- who were writers, journalists, professors, etc. Friends used to get their dabbas (tiffin boxes) at his place and chat over a meal. The topics ranged from politics to art to personal to public life. And after declining multiple times, I gave in to his gentle insistence. Once I attended it, I actually loved it. I met some amazing people through it and learned some amazing things. I basically got a life.
The family expanded and our bond got stronger. AB and I shared essentially similar patterns of thinking, hence we had similar problems too. We felt too much, got hurt too much, had a lot of anxiety, and had similar inhibitions. We shared common interests in writing, reading, movies, and philosophy. Well, we did not read the same kind of books or movies. He was more open-minded when it came to that. But that didn’t stop us from sharing what we saw or read. He’d say, ‘O, I am never going to be able to read it anyway’ and then I’d summarize the whole story for him, step by step.
We’ve watched a lot of movies together. More than a hundred for sure. After watching great movies, we’d have long conversations about what touched us, what was brilliant, details on various characters, etc. Most of the times (95%), we echoed similar thoughts and at times we’d have fierce arguments on our disagreements. This expression and intimacy never happened with anyone else in our lives. In this world, that was worried about making more money and creating more wealth, we were concerned about the POV of a story. We never measured each other’s creativity or art based on the money (or lack of money) we earned. Ours was a space of infinite possibilities.
He loved feeding people. The time when I first met him at his house, I hated cooking. I was trying to maintain some kind of mental image of a feminist, perhaps. Also, I didn’t have my own kitchen then. He’d always say, ‘Cooking is not a choice, it’s a necessity. If you have a home, it needs to have a functional kitchen.’ I was not going to cook until three years after that when I’d go to London for my Masters. Until then, he fed me with so much love and care. Some of his iconic dishes (as friends know) were khajoor rabdi, handva na pudla, veg pulav, oven chicken, khichdi and much more.
He’d give me an open reign to cook in the kitchen but I was just not ready. Yet, he never made me feel petty or small. He always fed me/us with love and warmth. Even when he didn’t feel like cooking, he cooked. In his kitchen, there were no rules. Things could fall, burn or spoil but there was no pressure. AB was clumsy with his hands and accepted it openly. He had no inhibitions in ‘going wrong’ and always loved to experiment in the kitchen. In his dictionary, there was nothing called an ‘authentic’ dish. Subconsciously, I was taking notes.
In the past two years (2019-20), when I finally began cooking, we discussed a lot of recipes. And he’d give me some amazing tips to go to. Actually, when it comes to cooking, he is my mother from whom I’ve learnt. This year, he spoke a lot of the longing to eat food made by me. As latest as last month when I visited him, he said I’ve got to feed him. And I, in turn invited him to Mumbai. He readily agreed and said he’ll plan as soon as he comes back from Kolkata. Little did we know….
No mention of Ashish Kakkad can end without a mention about his house. His Four BHK bungalow in the prime of Nehrunagar, Ahmedabad, even today, holds a vibe of positivity. He used to say, “I’ve never cared about maintaining this house. It is too big for me and I’m unable to manage it anymore so I just let it be.” By letting it be, he meant stuffing the house with stuff. The living room had a center table which was almost always full. In the past seven years, he’d have cleaned it about five times but within a week, just more stuff would pile up. Every new guest would just be requested to ignore the mess. I surely did.
I met a dear friend just yesterday and we both agreed that this home was the only place in the entire world with no rules. Literally no rules. There was no ‘you must’. And that’s what drove a lot of his friends (including me) into that space. A countless number of people have used that space as a home for thought, change, contemplation during low phases, and a journey to transformation. And a big catalyst in the process was Ashish Kakkad. He would subtly become a part of explorations and help people come out of their phases. Yes, in the process, a lot of times he was taken advantage of and taken for granted. But I never saw him complain or change his nature because of that. He, what I’ve learnt, could not help being kind or nice. And all his loved ones, were proud of him for that.
Another common thing between us was that we both struggled with writing. None of the people around us understood this because apparently when we actually did write, our writing looked effortless. But we found writing very painful. Although he was older and had done a lot of writing already, in the phase we met, he had great trouble putting things pen to paper. He’d mention having dyspraxia and struggling most of his life without realizing it. Dyspraxia is a form of learning disability.
Although we were incredibly hyper as people, we had the capacity to calm each other down just by existing. A lot of my published pieces have come out right out of his living room. I think, my attempts were always to find the Aarti that he thinks I am. His positive affirmations about me gave me the belief to try things that I had never tried before. “Aartu toh Jordar che” (Aarti is amazing), he’d say with a gush of paternal instincts.
In the early times of our friendship, I was happily dating Hemil (now my life partner) and he was married with a kid- they lived in Kolkata. There was no space for a romantic equation between us. Nor was it a father-daughter thing because I had a lovely father already and he had a loving son. There wasn’t any such empty space in our lives. Instead, we created a unique bond of friendship that transcended our age and gender. That’s why this loss feels terrible. No one will ever be able to comprehend what we had, and in ourselves, how perfectly we fit together. We hardly ever fought. And we were never insecure or jealous. In the past 2.5 years when I was physically away from him, both of us got new friends but our friendship was never at the crossroad. In fact, those people became (directly or indirectly) a part of the friends-family.
He was the most naturally lovable and loving person. Being nice and kind, came naturally to him. And he used his charming voice to speak for a lot of causes. Beyond everything, he loved keeping people motivated. I think that’s where he drew energy from. He believed that making people happy, sharing their pain and motivating them to move forward, would automatically make him happier and peaceful. And he was not wrong. That’s all he wanted. “Sukhe thi jivvu che bus.” he’d say, which roughly translates too, I just want to live peacefully/happily. Living one day at a time was his ultimate mantra.
Top 6 Life Lessons Learnt from Ashish Kakkad
- “You don’t have to prove anything.” I was going through a weird phase in life when I had internalized a lot of bad thoughts and experiences. And when I tried to get up from where I had fallen, he repeated this very often: You are good enough. You have done enough and you don’t owe any explanations to anyone. You don’t have to prove anything.
- “Cooking is not a duty, it’s a life skill that every human being irrespective of their gender, should learn.” He always craved having learned how to cook as a younger person. He felt he had learned cooking too late and not by traditional means but he always said (especially to young/single men) that one should have a functional kitchen to be happy in life.
- “Fight your fight.” Over the years, he has always been supportive whenever I got into conflicts whether work or personal. He said it was never okay to let someone take away from you, what you deserve. This may have been his vision for me, however, in his personal life, he’d usually let go in times of conflict. It’s perhaps also because he was older and tired.
- “Kindness is the fastest way to happiness.” If you go for a morning walk at ATIRA, Ahmedabad someday, speak to 5 random people and ask them if they knew Ashish Kakkad. Chances are, 3 of them, knew him. He had a habit of wishing people ‘Good morning’ in his magnetic voice with a generous smile. I’ve been on those walks and I’ve seen faces with familiarity, shock, surprise, and awe- everything eventually landing in a smile. No matter how bad a day he was having, he continued his ritual. In turn, he met some amazing human beings. For quite many, he was a supreme positive influence. On Saturday, 7 Nov 2020, many of the ATIRA morning walkers will observe silence to pay respect to his life.
- “Forget fearlessly and shamelessly.” Although this he/I didn’t have much control over, we were forgetful people. But what he meant was, don’t take life too seriously. Your praises, other people’s betrayals are all meant to be forgotten. What’s best is to live for the day. If you can manage to get three meals, good air quality, great friends- and sometimes all of it on the same day- it qualifies to be a great day.
- “Be like a kid and be proud of it.” He always believed we should be as a kid- curious, energetic, and ready to get up after a fall. This does not mean that he did not age gracefully, but mentally, he was always curious as a child. And if you’d see him with children, you’d believe what I’m saying. He was a star with them and kids clung to him like magnets.
By now, I realize I’ve written this piece in the past tense referring to both him and me. “We were” and ”We had”. As if it’s not just him, who is no more. But I can’t deny that a part of me has died. I don’t know how am I going to continue leading a life so heavily intertwined with his. The movies we watched together, the songs we sang, the places we visited, and the food we ate. Just everything will remind me of him. And I know what he’d say to this jarring admission: “Well, I guess you’ll have to live worth two lives now, Aartu.”
The Other Angle 
Beautifully written, Aarti….I could actually imagine you spending time with him even though I have never met him. I know that no words are enough to console you at this difficult juncture of your life but as you yourself mentioned in the article “you’ll have to live worth two lives now”
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