Before commencing his speech at TEDxColombo in 2013, Mohamed Imran Basheer showed the audience a short video of a heart rate monitor, amplifying the beeping of the machine with the sound of heart beats. The tagline: "Where there's a heartbeat, there's rhythm." This morning, I learned with the greatest sorrow that my friend Imran's heart had ceased to beat last night, and his funeral had been scheduled for this afternoon. Things happened so quickly that I did not believe it when Imran's friend Sharine first broke the news to me on Messenger. I thought it was a joke since his friends had always been a cheerful bunch. I mean, he literally slept on my couch just ten weeks ago, and was still talking to me last month. After verifying the news from his various friends and knowing absolutely sure that it was not "a joke' but actually a bad dream, I was totally stunned, and the only thing I could think about was "What a pity: such a talented and passionate person living such a short life!"
I got to know Imran on a coach from London to Cardiff in 2013. I was studying in London back then and had established a routine of weekend expeditions to various towns in England and Wales. This time, my destination was Cardiff. I was among the first to board the coach (following an old Chinese tradition of being first in almost every thing), and took my favorite aisle seat in a front row. The window seat next to me was empty. Then there came Imran. He politely asked me if the seat had been taken; I said no, stood up and let him in. The coach started moving, and I refrained from talking to him at first. It was an old London thing that I had newly mastered and practiced well, especially in cold wet British winter. It was not long since boredom of a long coach trip started to kick in, and we started talking almost spontaneously. He told me he was from Sri Lanka to meet a friend in Cardiff. He told me he had grown up in a tradition in which dancing was explicitly forbidden; but after his graduation from an Australian university and working for a multinational corporation for a year, he decided he should not ignore his passion any more, so he established his own Bollywood dace studio. He told me his other passion was photography, and he had taken some of the most amazing photos with his second-hand Nikon DSLR camera. He showed me some photos he had taken, and told me he wanted to perfect his skills and establish prestige in photography and a business around it. He told me he was invited to TEDxColombo, was not sure if he should go or not, and asked me for advice. I liked him almost instantaneously out of a teacher's instincts. An open, conscientious, extroverted, agreeable and somewhat neurotic (in the psychological sense) personality with high IQ and a strong growth mindset could explain much of what he had accomplished and would accomplish. I suggested he use the TEDx event as a platform to expand his opportunities in dancing and photography, and we discussed further the extent of individual freedom within socio-politico-economico-cultural and religious boundaries. As the coach arrived at Cardiff, we said goodbye and parted our ways. I remember him sending me the link to his speech at TEDxColombo later. I have lost all my old tweets, but my Google Calendar captured the moment, thanks to, IFTTT: Amazing individual I met on the bus to Cardiff. Life is full of wonderful surprises.
Many things had happened since 2013: I came back to China in early 2014 and started working as an independent teacher in 2015; Imran went back to his daily routines (dancing) and endeavor to travel the world from time to time. Then came 2016 when he invited me to attend his photo exhibition at Barefoot Gallery, Colombo, and his 30th birthday. It was through this trip that I got to know more about him, his family and friends. I planned to book a hotel in Colombo, but he insisted that I should not and he would be happy to share his room with me. I originally thought it was out of either courtesy or his backpacker thinking since we had only met once briefly in the UK and had not seen each other for more than three years, and there was no point why he should share his room with me. I would later realize that I misjudged his hospitality and generosity. He not only shared his room with me, but also gave up his bed as he had only one single bed; so during my whole stay in Colombo, I was sleeping in his bed, while he on the floor. It was this proximity that gave us the opportunity to discuss in depth a lot of things about ourselves, our families and friends, along with obvious topics like China and Sri Lanka, especially China's role in Sri Lanka's economy. He introduced me to his parents, brothers, uncles and aunts. Now that I think about it, I must have misbehaved quite a bit due to a lack of awareness in cultural differences; but his family had always treated me with kindness. He showed me around Barefoot Gallery, and involved me into the preparation process of his exhibition. I still have a photo he took of me sitting in front of a computer, typing the titles to be printed out for his photos. I got the feeling that he wanted to share his accomplishment and joy with me by welcoming me into his world. He had a layer of subtlety in his personalities that was often outshined by his extroversion. Sometimes I even considered his extroversion a learned one, that under his cheerful and enthusiastic surface buried a calm and solemn core. His exhibition was a complete success, professionally, socially and financially, not that he lacked it anyways, since he had already had a successful dance studio. ImzyS Dance Soft, as it was called, was on the second floor, as far as I can remember, of a building in an artistic district of Colombo. It was the first time I saw him dancing. His talent in dancing, as he spoke of it at TEDxColombo, was apparent after the first ten seconds, though I reckon it was also due to years of meticulous practice that he rarely talked about. His crew and students were from different walks of life, sharing a passion with him for dancing. Later I would visit his classes for children, many of whom had special needs. He would elaborate for me the benefits of dancing for those children, and how dancing not only changed their lives, but also his. His birthday party was held on the top floor of a vacant building. All his family members, his friends, dance crew and students came, along with many others who had received the invitation one way or the other. It was wildly amazing! His love for and devotion to his family, friends, crew and students were more than words, and vice versa. I remember his father telling me with great joy and satisfaction, "Imran has so many friends, and they all love him." That should sum up the kind of person Imran was nicely.
Two years went by, and my trip to Sri Lanka was still vivid like yesterday. Then earlier this year, I received a message from Imran that he was coming to China. It was quite a surprise because I had been asking him to come for the past two years. During the time, he had visited two dozen countries in the world, primarily in Europe, and paid China lip service. I had to ask him again and again to confirm if he was really coming or just saying. Eventually, the tickets were booked and the visa came through, and he was really coming in March! He was going to stay in my house, like I used to when I visited Colombo, and I had made myself available for him for the few days of his stay. (He was not going to take my bed as my wife would have killed me for that.) I met him at Pudong Airport, and we hugged like old friends. We visited Shanghai, Wuzhen and my city Hangzhou. His observation about China was acute, and commentary insightful. We even talked about promoting business between China and Sri Lanka. I introduced him to my wife and best friends, and we went to a karaoke together. When he left, we said farewell to each other like old friends who would always see each other again, never realizing that that farewell would mean forever.
We have seen each other no more than ten days in total. I have always wondered if we technically count as friends. How could I have developed an affection for him as a friend given that our time together was so limited, and that everything I know about him is, as a result, also limited? At the same time, how come the sense of connection is that strong, even after his death, that I feel I know more about him than most other people that I have known for years? I guess eventually it took two intuitive minds in the right place at the right time to work the magic. Now that he is gone and I am watching his speech at TEDxColombo, I realize he was not completely right. His heart has ceased to beat, but his rhythm is still and will always be in my memory. It has become an important part of my impression and interpretation of Sri Lanka.
I hope you will find music, dancing, a super cool camera and a lot of friends in heaven, Imran!
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