My friend Anand: A death by choice

It’s now ten years. Ten years since the death of my friend and batch-mate in the college, Anand Ranthidevan and his wife Deepa, who decided to call quits in 2011. They were in their late 30s, successful and happy. Ten years on, and I am still not able to come to terms with his death. Why did he do that? The question keeps lingering in my mind. 

He, in fact, made me think a lot even when he was alive. Anand and I were together in chemical engineering class, REC, Trichy, from 1990-94. I studied in a small town, Srirangam and the college and the liberal world overwhelmed me. More particularly, Anand and his philosophy. That was the first time my idea of what is right and what is wrong was questioned. He used to demolish my assumptions with a wide grin and a ruthless logic that came to him effortlessly. 

It used to go like this: “No, Anand, we should not be selfish.” 

 “Ha-ha, really Mani? Think about it again. We live because we are selfish. We kill to survive. How many living things do you hurt every day! Can you really live without killing or hurting something or somebody?  Think about it. The fittest survive, Mani. Everybody, almost every species does that. That’s the philosophy of life. Don’t get carried away by what people preach. That is done by the powerful to keep order in society. Analyze all that is told to you on the altar of logic. Life is ours and we are responsible to only ourselves!”

Another time, it was “Anand, my house is very small. Can’t invite all our friends.” 

“To invite people home, you don’t need a big house, Mani! All you need is a big heart and a sense of acceptance of your humble background.” 

He was brutally honest. His questions and answers would make many of us, friends and batchmates, uncomfortable. But, he was comfortable with me.  Maybe, I was yet to learn the art of pretension then.  I guess, he liked that frankness. 

He used to laugh at me and my philosophy on life. His forthrightness dipped in sharp wit could penetrate any defence. I have seen him tearing the guys apart in the class, canteen, anywhere. He was seldom seen in a company, and yet he was popular. 

Slowly, I was drawn to him as he challenged my assumptions logically. He taught me to question things objectively. He explained to me how there is nothing called right or wrong and only what we do and what we don’t want to do. He taught me to be bold. Indeed, his contribution to my ‘growing up’ may be much more than what I ever realised. 

He was courageous and smart. I remember the arousing extempore speech he gave on the basketball court, a day before we went on strike against the college management. I remember his smart preparations for exams and how he used to get as many marks as he needed. He never had trouble being the smartest of all. But, he never really was a part of the world we all lived in. He lived in his own world, with his own rules, if at all he had any. 

In a way, he was a philosopher who lived his philosophy.  Even during his college days, he found the word hypocritical. He found pretensions all around. He lived as if he is immune to the pretensions. He lived for himself one day at a time. I never remember him having long-term goals. He lived in the present. Whatever happiness he got out of his karate classes, his ice creams, his laughter- he lived it, fully. 

I did wonder once, what will he do when the karate, ice creams and books fail to enthral him? What will keep him interested in life? Like most men, would he fall into the vortex of love and find a lady who will hold his interest for a longer time? And then maybe children? 

He indeed found Deepa interesting, and they got married in Bangalore, presumably without any fanfare. I remember how he once called me on the phone and announced his marriage. He laughed and said, “I did not send you a marriage invitation, Mani, because, I never printed any! Why should we waste others’ time for my marriage?” I was not surprised a bit. 

Then, I lost touch with him in the midst of a chaotic life. I left Bokaro steel city and joined the IAS. Got married, entered the life of a civil servant and lost myself in the mundane affairs of life. Years rolled on. I lost touch with him. 

At times, Anand would show up in my mind. I wanted to catch up with him and surprise him with how much I have changed. I wanted to tell him that I understand his philosophy much better with age. I wanted to tell him that I fully agree with him that the world is indeed inside our minds and we just live life as we want and we become experts in justifying it. 

But, then, that day never came. Only the news of his death came. Death by choice. Both killed themselves by hanging together leaving a clear death note. “We have lived a very eventful and happy life together. We’ve travelled the world, lived in different countries, made more money than we ever thought possible, and enjoyed spending as much of it as we could on things that brought us joy and satisfaction. We believe in the philosophy that our life belongs to us and only us, and we have the right to choose to die as much as we have the right to live. We have kept Rs 10,000 in an envelope for expenses. We are making this decision in our individual capacities.” 

The death note exhibited the same striking clarity he always had. He never seems to have unanswered questions. But, he left me with so many questions. 

Why he didn’t find a reason to live? Why do I have so many reasons to live. And my reasons are real reasons or have I invented them for my sake? I remembered a quote from Einstein “Strange is our situation here on earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose.” And then he said somewhere else, “I would want to know why He started the universe. For once I knew that answer, then I would know the purpose of my own life” 

Most of us live without knowing the purpose. So, we invent a purpose, may it be a loft one of living for others or a simple selfish one. But, an honest examination would force us to face the fact that we are selfish and we live for ourselves. Even if we assume that we contribute something to the world, the universe and the world are so overwhelming that it makes our contribution so little to be counted. 

Ramana Maharishi says, “Your own Self-realization is the greatest service you can render the world.” Did Anand realize himself, the greatest service in the world? Did his brutal honesty lead him to feel that he has no more reason to live? Does his honesty mock me and my pretension to life? 

Destiny has strange ways of mocking us; at our pretensions;  the list of reasons that we invent to live; spouse, kids, family, friends, and society. Endless list of reasons. So, when I realize that all those lists are invented by me for my own selfishness, what will I do? Can my honesty survive the emptiness? Will that self-loathing and emptiness claim me? Did that claim Anand?

These questions remain unanswered even after ten years of his death.