September 5th, 1967 – March 12th, 2020 (Bhanu’s illustration is by his niece Anjora, sketched thoughtfully for his prayer meeting)
The man of feeling
Bhanu – often remembered by his friends and family – as a person who wore his heart-on-his-sleeve. We miss his persistent messages and calls to check on us, be screamed-at for not updating our live location (literally!), often to just share a song, an emotional tribute or his strong political views. Yet, almost always checking on one’s wellbeing, with a keen and genuine presence. For each one of us. With all his heart and soul
One version of Bhanu
This compilation, illustrates the person behind the byline – Bhanu Pande. Born and raised in Lucknow. Deeply loved his city and his roots (Kumaon). Lucknow is where he grew-up and went to St Francis School, Christian College and to Lko Univ for an MBA. After giving-up on UPSC, Bhanu moved to Delhi to pursue his other passion – on-ground reporting. He would often grimace that he was a reluctant business journalist whose real dream was to cover politics. Bhanu had a brief stint at Rashtriya Sahara (had innumerable hilarious stories about it), A&M mag (where we met – luck by chance), Business Standard and The Economic Times (his longest and most recalled stints). If you knew Bhanu, you will enjoy reading a few of his off-beat feature stories (there are too many out there), smile and nod at the descriptors about him and get to cherish his memories, once again: – ) Guess where he was photographed with this topi and camera?
A musical tribute
Radhika, a dear friend in my journey through autism and life paid this heartfelt tribute to Bhanu. A memorable Sufi Musical Evening was hosted by A K Kundra sir and Jyothi ma’am, at AGV premises in 2021. It was Tanmay’s 22nd birthday and Bhanu’s favourite ghazal was brought alive for us. She is accompanied by Amin Khan, a multi-instrumentalist and two of them together created magic for our community here
Under the umbrella; Once again
Drenched in heavy rains, I remembered the umbrella my mother gave me
when I walked to school on rainy mornings;
Don’t lose it, she would admonish me as I stepped out…
Walking, along the way, I would be joined by friends and we would chat
pitter patter oblivious of raindrops piercing our face and
the puddle of water in our steps;
That huddle is lost now,
That puddle is lost now;
I have torched that umbrella many years ago,
those chiding-words have fallen silent, but rains still come year after year;
My friends watch me from far away, wave at me, my steps are longer now and,
raindrops hurt my eyes;
That huddle is gone,
That puddle is lost now,
I often see mother’s hand with an umbrella, as a child steps out on a rainy morning;
I rub my eyes and watch in frozen silence, listening to the sound of raindrops;
Someday, I tell myself, rains will stop or, I’ll find a place under the umbrella once again
Written for Mummy (Bhanu’s ma)
Sunshine of my life, Ma ….
I came from you, grew through you;
I imagine through you, speak through you;
I see the world through the prism
I know as you,
Ma!
You are the sun that I revolve around,
You pave the orbit for me so,
That I don’t tumble down,
I am big now,
Yet so small to live within you;
A part of me continues to stay with you – treasure safe and secure;
You make me glow in the sunshine
You are the sunshine of my life, Ma
Written for Mona’s birthday, on behalf of Tanmay
Spaces
Spaces are diminishing;
Man made ideas are doing the trick amidst rapidly emerging structures, occupancy and squalid existence.
Personal spaces are under stress;
Demands, expectations and emotions;
People are jostling for space even in the virtual world;
Claustrophobic deals are being struck as I look beyond;
So, I long to escape to a jungle, a desert, be near a sea or in the hills, and mingle with God-made creatures, flora and fauna,
Slip into a deep slumber, on the drip of fresh air
In a quest of my personal space
Written in 2013, after quitting active biz journalism
