My relationship with Stan was, minimally, an exception to the rule that says that true friendships cannot be formed late in life. Perhaps we were both, in a manner of speaking, teenagers when we met (despite our real ages), or perhaps even children swimming up-stream. I miss him.

Finding words for the loss I feel is not easy, but I would like everyone to know (1) that Stan fully subscribed to the speech-act theory that requires that orders be disobeyed and requests be carried out immediately, (2) that his favourite indian couplet—I used to throw many at him—was HazaroN vars nargis apani benuri pe roti hai baDi mushkil se hota hai chaman main didavar paida (rough translation: ‘The narcissus [the flower] can go unappreciated for centuries because connoisseurs are not born everyday)’, and (3) that there were no limits to his generosity—he never gave in or gave up, but he always gave, always.

Needless to repeat that I’ll cherish his memory as long as I live because,as I said before, he gave me an unforgettable gift: a true friendship in the afternoon of my own life.

Rajendra Singh