Subarata
A passing reflection on friendship...
I was touched reading Jogyata's short story for his wife's birthday: A Devoted Heart; it seemed on the 7th anniversary of her passing she was still very much in his thoughts.
He was so very hollow when it happened all those years ago. They were always “Jogyata and Subarata,” joined by ‘and’ rather than ‘or,’ by heart as well as conjunction—a partnership in it's truest sense. It seemed as though a part of him had been ripped away, and of course in a sense it had. For a while he was ghost-like, like only half a man, yet he took on the responsibilities of another one and a half stoically—at least outwardly so—running a national meditation centre that they had always run together. The story wasn't supposed to end with just Clyde, but when God is the author it seems endings are flexible things...
Read more: Passing reflection