Munna - My Friend

 An Ode to a Life of Grit, Grace, and Friendship

 Some friendships are not measured in years alone, but in the quiet certainty that the other person will always be there. My friendship with Anup Singh—better known as Munna Singh—was one such bond. It began in the 1960s in Durgapur and endured, unchanged in spirit, for more than five decades.

We became neighbours when my family moved to Mirabai Road in Durgapur. Munna lived barely a hundred metres away, on Vivekananda Road—part of what was then known as the Vivekananda Crescent. At its centre lay a playground where neighbourhood children gathered each evening, most often for cricket. It was there that I first sighted Munna, standing behind the stumps as wicket-keeper.

Munna had been afflicted by polio in childhood. Despite extensive treatment, including care in England, both his lower limbs were affected, and he wore a caliper on one leg all his life. Yet, watching him play cricket, one would never have guessed it. He kept wickets with astonishing agility—standing close, catching cleanly, diving fearlessly, and rising with a speed that defied expectation. What struck me even then was not just his skill, but his grit, courage, and irrepressible cheerfulness.

These qualities defined Munna far beyond the cricket field. At the Durgapur Club, he was an enthusiastic and competitive participant in table tennis, badminton, billiards, and swimming. He played every point as if it mattered deeply, often hurling himself onto hard floors to retrieve a shot. His refusal to be limited by circumstance earned him respect and acceptance as an equal among all of us. He regularly competed in club tournaments, especially doubles, often partnering my younger brother, with whom he shared a special bond.

Apart from sports and games, Munna and I were also partners in some harmless pranks amongst friends. The most notable prank that he masterminded is what my children call the ‘Dhar Story’! This deserves a separate blog – so I will leave this one for now. Suffice it to say that the fleeing of Archbishop Makarios from Cyprus in 1974 was at the root of this prank!!

We came of age in a time before constant connectivity—when telephones were fixed and long-distance calls were rare. Yet distance never diluted our friendship. Even as we went to different universities—Meerut, Allahabad, XLRI Jamshedpur for me, and BHU for Munna—we remained connected. Every vacation, we resumed our conversations as if no time had passed.

Munna’s professional life followed a path uniquely his own. He worked closely with our mutual friend Rakesh Agarwal during the development of Garden Estate in Gurgaon, becoming not just a trusted associate, but also a confidant and moral compass. Later, he found his true calling in public life, working closely with the late Anant Kumar, Union Minister. Munna’s office became a vibrant meeting place for politicians, journalists, and professionals from all walks of life.

He moved effortlessly across worlds—corporate, political, social—never intimidated by status, never unaware of responsibility. He devoted considerable time to the Paralympic movement in Delhi and took deep pride in the achievements of Indian athletes on the global stage. Even then, he continued to play competitive table tennis himself, winning championships and proving—again and again—that limitations exist only if one accepts them.

For me personally, Munna was a constant presence. Whenever my work brought me to Delhi, we met—over conversations that ranged from the serious to the trivial, but always carried warmth. When I began my own consulting practice, his invitations for lunch or high tea were both generous and comforting. They were gestures of friendship, never obligation.

It is impossible to summarise a friendship of over fifty years in a few words. What remains with me is not just memory, but habit—the instinct to reach for the phone and call him, simply because something reminded me of him. We never needed a reason to talk. And now, even with every reason, that call will never be made.

Munna Singh lived with dignity, courage, humour, and an unyielding belief in participation over limitation. His life enriched everyone who knew him. He will be remembered not for what he endured, but for how fully—and fearlessly—he lived.