His death is a shock I have not recovered from, and don’t think I will. There was not a single day when we either did not meet, or at least talk more than once on the phone, because he one of the most helpful and genuinely considerate friends anyone could have. When I went to see him on the evening before he took ill, he was sitting alone in his study, listening to classical music. His wife, Shobha Deepak Singh, is the daughter of the pioneering corporate leader, Lala Charat Ram and Sumitra Charatram. Sumitra Charat Ram founded the Shriram Bhartiya Kala Kendra in 1952, and after her death in 2011, Shobha took on the creative mantle from her mother, and directed the annual landmark dance-dramas, Ramlila and Krishna Leela. The iconic Ramlila of the Kendra has run, during Dussehra, without a break since 1957, and there is hardly any luminary, including our Presidents and Prime Ministers, who have not watched them.

Deepak was the man who was the pillar of strength standing steadfastly behind Shobha Deepak Singh. A product of IIT Delhi, his administrative and financial acumen, his attention to detail, and his relentless endeavour to upgrade the creative productions in keeping with changing technologies, made him indispensable. In addition to being the Chairman of the Governing Board of the Kendra, he also was the force behind running the Kamani Auditorium, one of the most sought-after venues for artistic performances in the capital.

Besides, he himself had an innate love for classical music and dance, which he kept to himself, happy to revel quietly—yet always proudly—in the well-deserved accolades his talented wife received, including the Padma Shri. In recognition of his life-long services to art and culture he was posthumously awarded this year the Sumitra Charam Ram Lifetime Achievement Award, whose other recipients have included Birju Maharaj, Kishori Amonkar, Sonal Mansingh and Amjad Ali Khan. This Award was presented by Dr Karan Singh.

Deepak’s love for music was what he was quietly enjoying that final evening when I met him. Shobha was away for the opening of the Krishna Leela, and although he had planned, as always, to be there by her side, since he was not feeling well, he decided not to go. That evening, when the two of us were alone, will remain etched in my mind and memory forever. I had no idea that it would be the last time we would be having a chat. To be honest, nor did he. In fact, we were planning who the foursome would be for our weekly Bridge game, which he and I played regularly. Playing Bridge at his home was a treat. His legendary hospitality, his soft and ever smiling personality, made the afternoon so much more than just a game.

He would spend considerable time with Brijender, his highly accomplished cook of long standing, and with Shobha, to plan the menu for the evening tea. In these matters, he was a gourmet, very fond of good food himself, and his and Shobha’s memorable dinners can never be forgotten by their friends.

Deepak’s love for food was inherited. His mother, the legendary Mrs. Balbir Singh, was a culinary icon of her times. Her cooking lessons, trained an entire generation of the elite in Delhi, and her well-written books on cooking, took her talents to a much wider audience. I find it poignant, that as I was leaving that evening, Deepak gave me two volumes of his mother’s best-selling cook-books. One of them was out of print, and the other was a pirated copy. He asked me if I could please assist in having them republished. I said yes instantly, and this is a project I am committed to completing.

One thing I learnt from Deepak’s passing away is that one must never postpone the simple pleasures of life for later, because that chance may never come. Deepak did not believe in doing so. He lived life king-size, but in a disciplined manner, ever the genial host, and a great companion on holidays. My wife and I accompanied him and Shobha, with some of our most cherished friends, for many holidays where, even though he and Shobha were often not in the best of health, we had a great deal of fun, and a lot of good Bridging.

Yet, even for the most enlightened of us, who believe in enjoying the simple pleasures of life, there are joys we postpone. In the year before he died, Deepak built a beautiful terrace garden to crown his lovely home. He had told me several times that in the coming winter, we would use it as often as possible, and play Bridge there in the wonderful afternoon sun.

Alas, this winter has come, and Deepak is no more there to sit there in the sun. He built the terrace paradise too late, and death came to him too early, or at the least before it was expected. After he passed away, I visited the terrace garden alone, and pictured him sitting in the shade of a garden umbrella, his entire body laughing with him whenever he heard a good joke.

(Pavan K Varma is author, diplomat, and former Member of Parliament (Rajya Sabha). Just Like That is a weekly column where Varma shares nuggets from the world of history, culture, literature, and personal reminiscences. The views expressed are personal.)