After the assassination of the great Mahatma Gandhi, Pundit Jawaharlal Nehru, the then prime minister of India stated in his address to the nation :

“The light has gone out and there is darkness everywhere."
This speech today is recorded as one of the most brilliant speeches in History.

I thought there would be no better sentence to start this Billet d’adieu to my brother Rajbuns Pulton who left his home at Lady Twining Street ,Beau-Bassin to reach the supreme abode of eternity on the 24th February 2011.
As soon as I put down the receiver which had announced the news of his parting, these lines of Pundit Nehru flashed into my consciousness. But then after the initial pain, wisdom dawned upon me to scribble today instead that “He was the light in our lives and the glow  of the light that he has left behind,will always shine. so there cannot be darkness.”
My brother Rajbuns was such an entity who walked with light ,his advices were enlightening, his life was light ,so how can there be darkness ?

I will not today dear Bhaya grieve in pain of your demise, I will celebrate your life.
In the words of Lord Krishna in the Bhagwad Gita , I will say : “Kaunteya pratijanihi na me bhakta pranasyati”
(O Son of Kunti,I declare it boldly that my devotee never perishes)

In the words of Shakespeare as fell the great Caesar : “When beggars die ,there are no comets seen Heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.”

And a prince you were, and a princely life you had.

Rajbuns Pulton, son of Ganga Maraz, illustrious figure of the small village of St Julien village, who had migrated to the town of Beau-Bassin, was till last week the “doyen” of our clan, the “rassembleur” par excellence. and an intellectual of great calibre. He was awarded an MBE []]Member of the British

Empire] for his meritorious acts in his professional as well as social life.
A man of great endeavour he reached to be the commissioner of the Rural Development Unit after going up various rungs of the ladder in the public sector.

I celebrate today his olympian strength to help ever and hurt never, and who never let down all those who depended on him.
I rememorate today his sense of humour which brought smiles on all lips.

I bow down today to the great reader that he was who could not be taken for a  ride in any subject or about any book.
What I will celebrate today through these lines is his image of the perfectly attired gentleman in front of whom we felt so unkempt, his great sense of elegance who told me once how he was disturbed as I presented a TV program in the hair style he didnt like.

On Raksha  Bandhan day I will feel the pain and regret that I did not tie one on your wrist on two consecutive years  as I was away from the country.

I will do so this year to the father image stuck to my mind and sing a silent
song to your soul.

I honour today your sense of commitment to the family with the principle of "why fear when I am here", to your being a great father who made not only his children but all children in his surroundings, good intellectuals and civilised citizens of the country.

I applaud today your greatest achievement, that of being a good husband to my sister in law, who saw in you a father, a guide, and a friend, and to your spiritual convictions which believed that service to man is service to God.

Such a complete man, such a full life deserves not to be mourned, such a great soul needs be celebrated, so we will surely celebrate and sing your glory.

But I cannot help adding here, the thing which moves me tremendously ,that I  have lost my role model, the one whose hand remained on my head in pain and pleasure alike, whose influence and motivation made me climb the ladder of
progress. I kept going up because I knew he would be there in the end to clap for me.

I will miss you very much on the launch of my latest book quite soon, You never
missed any of them before.

I will end here quoting Lamartine :

«Le livre de la vie est le livre supreme
qu''''on ne peut ni r''ouvrir ni fermer de son choix
On voudrait tant revenir a la page que l''on aime
Mais la page ou l''on meurt est deja sous nos doigts»

Adieu Bhaya