What has happened Rajen, you haven't replied to my email I sent some time back?”. It was a frantic call from Ashwin Merchant November last as if something was amiss in his scheme of things.

I felt guilty. “I am sorry sir, I have been travelling,” I responded immediately. His reply was typical of him – a combo of concern and care free ness: “It's ok, no problem. I was worried as you always reply instantly. You know I am not feeling well and am bed-ridden but you will get my column, anyway. I will write in a day or so.”

His column did not arrive ob my desk. Later, my New Year greetings went unacknowledged too. My phone calls evoked no response. I did wonder what could have gone wrong him but in the wildest of dreams could not imagine that Ashwin had met the maker.

Later, a common friend emailed that Ashwin had met his repose in December. The news shattered the close knit, well bonded world we are blessed with at SME WORLD headquarters. Over a period of time, we had struck deep friendship. That he was my well-wisher was evident when he wrote once: “It is an honour for me to write for your magazine, Rajen.”

The message moved me. For, round about the same I had shared my inability to compensate our regular contributors who stood by me, my entrepreneurial venture, often fought with me. And were friends again.

Ashim had given his sweat, toil and blood to his Marketing Klinic. To me, he seemed obsessed with the ups and down of the SMEs sector. He had once summed up: “I have worked very hard and now I have a very dedicated clientele which seeks my services and I am always delivering to their satisfaction.” His column 'Marketing Prescriptions' he so fondly wrote for us became popular. His style was simple yet so thoughtful. “We have virtually nothing for the start ups and we must do something for them,” he once told me. “Business is like a human being – one must watch for its health and growth. Marketing is not magic. Marketing is a science. Marketing in any form of unplanned advertising campaign often acts like steroid, acts iut for a while and takes away a lot in turn. Why not use marketing business mix like vitamin to keep your business in good health,” he wrote in last column. 

I have fond remembrances of our first meeting. It was in Mumbai. Preliminaries over, he introduced himseld “I live in South Mumbai and you are at Bandra side but don't worry I will pick you from your place at sharp 9 and we will have breakfast and a chat. He drove down.

He won a part of me as he said: “Sorry I have brought my small car as the bigger one is with my daughter today and hope you won't mind.” I matched his humility: “Mr. Merchant, I am a small man, too. Your coming here all the way is more important than your car,”

He laid a ground rule: that whenever in Mumbai, I must meet him. Playing the host, he said: “You must spare an evening for me every time….we can have dinner at Hindu Gymkhana you would love.”

How right he was ! The Sun setting the Arabian sea casting its parting rays on the Club lawns was a treat in itself. He was incisive. He knew I do not partake hard drink; yet he would not forget the courtesy of asking me for one ! During my meeting with him last October in Gymkhana, he insisted that I have a drink. “OK, Mr. Merchant, I will have a drink provided you give me a company,” I reasoned with him politely. “Allright, you have a bloody mary and me a virgin mary,” he laughed. “Then let's both have a virgin merry each,” I suggested. “Mr. Rajen, you are a journalist of long standing and how come you don't take hard drinks,” he commented. I smiled evading an answer. We both had virgin mary.

I was aware he was a frugal eater. But what touched me that he would order the choicest of dishes for me. I would endear myself to him. “Ashwin, why don't you also have some food ?” His reply was prompt: “I can't eat as am mostly unwell but I will join you over a Kulfi !” He savoured it.

My job will take to Mumbai often. But there would be no Ashwin. No invite to Hindu Gymkhana. The Sun would set as it always does in the Arabian. But inside me, a Sun has set in the Arabian never to rise again. Adieu, Ashwin. I will miss your column. So would the readers. Be with angels and bless us.

We all would miss you. I, all the more.