The Walker

What do you still say about a man who never stays still? 

How do you have static thoughts about a man who is always a moving picture?

Well, you don't. 

I won't. 

I shall instead, with my heart full of gratitude (since gratitude has no shelf life, unlike love) write these words that have moved me, still do and shall continue to do so for ever.

Kurien Mathews met me first way back in 2004, on the recommendation of a senior colleague, to see if I was hire-worthy. While I sat in his grandiose conference room, waiting to meet the Director and co-founder of TBWA\Anthem, I wondered what he would be like. I wondered not because I was great at wondering, but because his name was interesting (a few people always pronounce his first name as 'Korean') and I half imagined a foreigner with auburn hair and slats for eyes to make an appearance. The gentleman who did make an appearance, wearing a madras checked shirt and holding a packet of smokes and a lighter, was anything but. He was tall, handsome, delightfully roasted brown and wealthy.

Everything I was not and still am not.

I liked him immediately.

Fuck knows why. He took his time to not like me eventually, at the end of the interview. He found me unhire-worthy. He said so to my colleague. 

I didn't join his company. I joined him, at his company. Two months later.

And every single day since then, I have always felt that we could have had the same mother. 

Kurien walks. 

He walks in the evenings on his posh apartment complex grounds. He walks in and out of people's lives. He walks across divides and bridges them, even when the bridges were destined to tumble because they were being erected on quick-temper sand. 

He walks across the past and the future, seamlessly dipping crispy stories into Chivas Regal evenings and dishing out the dripping experience to all and everyone. 

It is amazing that one who walks so much and so consistently can be a binder for so many. From ex-colleagues to friends, from losers who knew him once and used that memory to suck his generosity to astoundingly successful people who love him and came to him as friends.

From blue collars to white collars, no collars to being collared by him to have one more for the road, Kurien walks the road that few manage to do consistently. And he has a penchant for white, mandarin-collared shirts. 

Some are born large. And some have largeness thrust upon them. 

Kurien 'Came' Mathews (one more funny side up thing about his name, the short form this time. It is meant to be "KM" for Kurien Mathews, breathed in breathless undertones like "HRH" for His Royal Highness but more often than not ending up sounding like he has arrived) was neither born large nor did he have anything thrust upon him.

He wanted to become large, he became large and he is and always will be large - large of heart, large of ideas, large of living and large of loving. His large and long list of achievements doesn't need to be documented here. It is to be found in the annual reports, board meeting minutes and books. However, his largeness of everything else, by far the most important things, need to be written about here.

The largeness of his generosity, summed up in his advice to me - "be overwhelmingly generous" even in business negotiations was one thing. His largeness of living - with an open house and an open balcony, forever welcoming a never-ending series of people is an entirely different thing altogether.

KM's sofas, hosts to so many stories, stand testimony to the largeness of his living and generosity. Strangers have become friends, couples have become lovers, stutterers have found stories, idiots have found solace, the lost have found some direction, the lonely have found company, intellectuals have found humility, lone wolves have found something to howl at, incorrigible bastards have found something to scowl at and nearly everyone has found something worthwhile while being wrapped around KM's sofas, soaking in his limitless generosity and unending hugs (which become furiously frequent with every successive whiskey after the fourth one).

Kurien walks. 

He walks in my mind, my memories, my regrets and my cross that I shall carry till I walk with him again. 

He walks when he gives a raw, un-hireworthy young punk the keys to the largest business at his company.

He walks when he gives that same punk the chance, the story, the book, the look, the proximity, the access, the hand, the leg up, the utter trust, the lessons, the shareholder's agreement, the drink, the drink, the drink, the invitations, the advice, the friendship, the hard times, the car rides, the cardamoms, the photographs, the jazz music, the holi dhol, the thanksgiving welcome, the onnam leaf, the rizla, the divide, the multiplier, the dinners, the plans, the ouzo, the treadmill, the run of the mill, the unique and the limitless line that goes on and on and on.

Just like him. 

Just like us. 

Kurien walks. 

And so do I. 

And one day, we will walk side by side. Like we have. For so many years. 

Till then, Walker. Here's to you.

Whiskey glasses and hearts should never have bottoms. Yours don't. Never did. Never, ever will. 

Amby