Tribute to my friend Shyam Parakkat on Friendship Day

I came to office on Saturday. When I got the shock of my life…Ignoring the bulk of forwards, which my friends had sent to me on Friendship Day….My sight fell on the word condolence. The mail was from the librarian at MASCOM, where I had done my post-graduate diploma in journalism.
Curiously, I opened the mail and what I read failed to register. Still, the news is unbelievable. For the first time, I wished so desperately that the news is false but coming from the librarian, I knew it had to be true. And since it was sent to all, I knew that the chances of it being a sad joke were remote.
Hoping against hope, I wish the news of my friend and brother Shyam Parakkat drowning in Marina Beach in Chennai was untrue. As journalism students, we were both the fiercest of the competitors. Both of us loved reporting and the professional rivalry always prompted us to give our best shot. We both were always pitted against each other. Though we had difference of opinion, we respected each others space and never crossed our boundaries.

He was passionate about literature and said, "I am in love instantly with someone who comes across me and starts Keats and says ‘Thou un-ravished bride of quietness’." He was a well-read journalist. He admired Arun Shourie for unraveling Bofors scandal and for writing eye-opening books on Islam and Christianity.
Shyam Cheta had great political contacts. I owe my meeting with the chief minister to him. Though I was politically naïve, I still remember how we both were the first student journalist to arrive and meet the then Kerala Chief Minister Oommen Chandy.
It was a Herculean task to maneuver through the human barricade of political followers, and relatives who were present at his home. I was squeezed and surrounded by men who were double my size. I still remember, one look by Shyam Cheta was all it needed to set those miscreants right. I felt so protected.



Cheta had a great sense of humour and was all the time playing pranks with other women journalist. Luckily, I was in his good books. He always had a soft corner for me and I was saved from his sarcastic witty remarks, which most of my friends were victim of.
He never had a smooth-sailing in his profession. He started his career with Indian Express at Chennai and was a great sports writer. His articles were full of adjectives and the language was flowery. May be that was what was expected of a sports or a political writer. Then he joined The Telegraph in Calcutta and later went to Gulf. I was in touch with him through chat. He came back to Kerala and joined The Pioneer. Again, because of his outspoken nature, he lost his job.

A few days back when I was chatting with him, he was upset about not having a job. I wanted to tell him to come to Mangalore and apply for PA. But before, I could convey that he suddenly went offline. And I never expected that it would be the last time I was interacting with him.
Death is the most unpredictable thing. Pray that God gives his mother and sisters the strength and courage to face this ordeal. If God had not cut his journey short, I was certain that he would have brought home lot of accolades for journalism. Personally, I lost one of my greatest friends, well-wisher and a unique person. It is so ironical that I lost him a few days before Friendship Day. You have given us so much. Love and miss you always. Your loss cannot be described in words.