My friend Pod

If someone were to ask me who was my dearest friend, I would unhesitatingly say, ‘Pod’. Pod was the pet name of Sonam Wangdi Tenzing whom I first met on 15^th July 1965, at the Assembly Hall of St.Stephen’s, Delhi, the college where we were both to spend five delightful years together. (The origin of his pet name is shrouded in the mists of Stephanian legends but has something to do with Hengist Pod, the maker of ‘square wheels’ from the popular comedy movie ‘Carry on Cleo’.)

On that day however, we were both scared freshers, terribly anxious about the ragging that we were facing.

‘Hi,’ I said nervously, stretching my hand out. ‘I’m Thomas Vallikappen from Kerala. Where are you from?’

‘Oh hello, I’m Sonam Tenzing from Sikkim,’ he replied, equally nervously, but shaking my hand vigorously. And that’s how the two of us, from the extremities of the sub-continent met that day. We were both doing History Honours and were delighted when we found ourselves allotted rooms in the same residential block, Allnutt South. He was in D-1, while I was in C-5. There were three other like-minded fellows, Shamsher Singh Ahlawat, Philip Mathew and Arvind Kala in the same block. We soon became bosom friends, sharing many escapades and adventures together, our friendship transcending college and working life and stretching well into our retirement. In fact we still remain the best of friends, getting together whenever we can. But of that, later. This is all about Pod…

The first few days of college life were miserable. There was heavy ragging and Pod and I would wait anxiously for classes to end, so that we could run away and take refuge with Pod’s elder brother who was then studying in another college, quite far from our campus. Frequently however, we were caught while returning at night, and then were even more mercilessly ragged by the seniors!  

Pod and I (as well as the rest of the gang) shared a lot of fun. Tutorials, scrambled eggs and toast at the café, taxi-rides to Sheila Theatre, Dara Singh movies at Amba followed by dinner at Tare-Pyare restaurant, cutting classes, the occasional Chinese dinner at Mikados, a cabaret show, heavy drinking sessions (mostly cheap rum), duck shoots and picnics on the Yamuna, treks in Himachal, raiding the fruit-walla’s shop,  and much later, in our MA days, parties with girls!  

After college, we went on our separate ways, but always stayed in touch. Pod went into the Administrative Service, Shamsher and I joined the SBI, Kala became a journalist, and Philip joined the Malayala Manorama, the newspaper owned by his family.

Soon after Simmy and I got married, Pod got to Delhi, where I was then posted. To our delight, he was appointed Sikkim’s Resident Representative in Delhi and moved into Sikkim House, the opulent. palace of the Chogyal, Maharaja Palden Thondup Namgyal, who by then had been deposed (and worse still, disgraced. It was a very shameful and vindictive act by Indira Gandhi which most of us, including Pod, found distasteful, but could do nothing about it).          

It was a golden period for newly-weds like us! Pod was a generous host and brimming with hospitality. We spent many week-ends at Sikkim House, in the Chogyal’s luxurious suite. Our daughter Tonya too had a lovely time there and Pod was very fond of her. She loved playing in the garden and lawns, swimming in the pool and being spoilt silly by Pod’s staff, including his secretary, Miss George, a Malayali lady.  Pod had an army of cooks, waiters, drivers and gardeners and truly lived like a king. One day, after a particularly hectic weekend there, I was in no mood to go to office. I rang up my boss from the bedside phone (sheer luxury in those days).

As soon as he heard my voice on a Monday morning, the boss knew what was coming. ‘Yes, Thomas,' he asked patiently, ' what’s your excuse this time?’

‘Sir,’ I told him quite truthfully, ‘I’m in a palace, sleeping in a Maharaja’s bed, there’s a swimming pool just outside the room and I just don’t feel like coming to office. May I take the day off?'

There was a slight pause, followed incredibly by a chuckle at the other end, and the boss said, ‘Acha baba, enjoy yourself. Take the day off, but don’t make it a habit.’ I often wonder what I would have done under such circumstances. Would I have been so sporting and magnanimous? Hats off to P.N. Bhat, my boss of those days.      

Pod had a fleet of cars at his disposal, including a Mercedes-Benz. He visited us frequently at our humble 2^nd floor flat in Saket. It was a treat to watch him arrive; the dapper Pod in a chauffeur-driven limousine! Our status went up considerably in the neighbourhood because of him.

After his stint in Delhi, Pod was sent to Sikkim, while I moved down south. We missed Pod and very soon after our transfer to Kerala, decided to visit him in Gangtok. Though Simmy was almost seven months pregnant then, she was adventurous enough to accompany me. As usual, Pod was the genial host and arranged comfortable accommodation for us at the PWD Guest House in Gangtok. We spent almost a week with him and enjoyed his lavish hospitality. At that time he was a comparatively junior officer, and must have had some difficulty in arranging the Guest House for us. Many years later, when he was Home Secretary of Sikkim he rang me up and said, ‘Tom, when are you coming to Sikkim next? No accommodation problems now. I’m Home Secretary, and jails come directly under me!’ Pod had a devastating sense of humour.        

With his son Kuncheok

With Sharda

With Karma and Kuncheok

Pod at home

A serious Pod

Pod’s next stint was in the north-eastern states, and we lost touch somewhat, though not fully. That’s when he got married to Sharda, a doctor from Nepal, whom we vaguely knew he was dating while in Delhi. When he returned to Sikkim a few years later, his rise in the bureaucracy was spectacular and before we knew it, he was occupying the top slot, that of Chief Secretary of Sikkim. It must have been a very fulfilling time for Pod's mother, a sprightly old lady, who, as I write this, is still going strong. Pod was the Chief Secretary, while the other son, Pod's elder brother (to whose room we used to run to escape ragging), was the Inspector-General of Police in Sikkim!

Though not an abrasive character, Pod was a principled man, scrupulously honest, and totally dedicated to his work. He soon fell foul of the politicians, particularly the then Chief Minister, and resigned in protest, though he retained the innocuous designation of ‘Adviser to the Govt. of Sikkim’ till the end. Around this time, we used to meet fairly frequently, in Delhi, and in Cochin, when he came to attend two of Philip’s children’s weddings. Each time he visited Kerala, he would insist on visiting Mavady, even if only for a few hours, because he loved the place.

Celebrating a birthday with his mother

Sharda and Pod

And then, on the 17^th of July 2007, I got the news of his death. He had had a massive heart attack and passed away in Gangtok. He was barely 60. We were all shattered. It was not possible for us to attend his funeral but we took the earliest opportunity and within a month, Simmy and I were in Gangtok to meet Sharda and the children. We spent two days with them.  While in Gangtok, Sharda and Kuncheok (Pod’s son) took us around all the places associated with him, and we even accompanied Kuncheok when he took Pod’s ashes to their final resting place near Changu Lake on the Gangtok-Nathu La road. My mind was at peace; I finally felt that I had done justice to the memory of my dearest friend.

With a Sikkim Police constable who escorted us

Simmy and I at Changu Lake 

A pensive Simmy with Pod's mortal remains

Pod's ultimate resting place

We pay our respects

A part of Changu Lake

Though Pod has gone, we still remain in touch with Sharda and the family. A few months after Pod’s death, we were so happy when Kuncheok and Karma (his daughter) paid us a visit in Kottayam.

We miss Pod very much; his sartorial elegance, his quiet companionship, and his boyish, guileless laughter. We miss him so much that we have a small shrine-like alcove in our room, above my computer table, containing his photographs. He is also the only person apart from immediate family members, who is included in our daily prayers. He must surely be enjoying Nirvana.                  

Pod's Corner at our house in Kottayam