Prathap Suthan on battling the biggest loss of his life

He still makes 2 cups of chai, one for her, one for him.

On September 30th, 2023, Prathap Suthan, a reputed Delhi-based creative director, knew his life had changed. And then, January 30th, 2024, brought another life-altering change.

As his face covered the rectangle of my laptop, and shared every little thing that went from September to January, when his wife, Jyothi Prathap, was diagnosed with leukemia and was taken away by it, I saw a range of emotions on his face.

The joy in his eyes when he spoke about his Jo. His smile when he shared her little quirks. The heaviness while talking about her condition. The tears when he spoke about the world without her. The relief of having words with him, to write about her, and for him. His way of healing, his way of mourning.

Words are why he wrote the books “Battleship Jo” and “Joneliness” too. One part of which covers everything about her, and not just her final days. He wrote it because he had nowhere else to go. He wanted to stay close to her, and words were the only bridge that made the distance less. 

I asked him multiple times how he “exactly” went past the hourly breakdown in the initial months. Who was there to hold him as he processed the final moment of her in his arms, and crumbling down? What would he tell someone who is going through this?

Every answer led me to just one thing: another interesting fact about Jyothi. 

Some incident where she brought light into the room, again. Her love for him where she insisted she cook for him. Another where she stood like a rock when the whole world seemed like it was hiding under one. Another where her faith in him made him believe he was meant for more. Or something about her taking care of him, and letting him do things he was good at. Or even making fun of her volatile nature. 

But always something about her. Reading his book made me realize why.

Remembering her and all the memories he made with her is how he’s processing this grief. He still makes 2 cups of chai, one for her, one for him. He hasn’t learnt how to make chai for one, or I think, he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to let go of any ritual that will take him farther away from her.

But there’s another side to the book, too. Where he describes his life without her. A world without her is a difficult one to live in. After building a world together for 34 years, how do you continue without your companion with whom you were supposed to take those trips, pamper grandchildren, grow old together, and rest a little, finally, after having taken care of all parental responsibilities? It’s like being pushed into a tunnel without a light to guide, his light, Jo.

Grief brings out lessons he never expected. A realisation that, at the end of the day, grief is a personal enterprise. You have to find a way to fight through those tears. And especially when you lose a partner. You can’t explain the true inner sadness that weighs you down. The loss of a shared context, the references, it’s all gone. The dinner time conversations. The banter only partners can have. You might have people around you. He has his son and daughter-in-law, but there’s a limit to how much they can fill the void. Because the truth is, it is a void that can never be filled. You’re back to square one. 

But grief also taught him about love. He says the biggest lesson she taught was how love doesn’t end, even when life does. How if we love someone, it just changes the way we carry them; we carry them differently. That’s why he never feels Jo has left. She’s not there, in the home they built, the house she decorated, the walls and fabric all screaming her touch, but she has not gone forever. She can never go. 

Grief gave him gratitude. Gratitude that he could spend the last 15 years with her because he started his own agency. Gratitude for trying everything they could, even though his mind spirals sometimes, thinking whether he could have done something better, a game that his mind will continue to play. 

And he is most grateful that before having to endure the greatest loss of his love, he could spend all these years with the greatest love of his life in an ordinary yet strong relationship.

That’s his parting message, too. He says, “If you’re lucky enough to hold someone today, hold them like you mean it. Understand the sheer privilege of it. Because sometimes, the only thing that will keep you whole is the memory of the one who once held you, just before they let go. I can vouch for that.”

Remembering the last hug she gave him, and how she chose to go away in his arms. A friend told him that it was her parting gift, and he believes it to be true. Not letting her memories go to the grave is how he fights the biggest battle of his life. 

I truly believe Battleship Jo has prepared him for that in her own way. If she’s reading this, she might chuckle at this, but Prathap, I hope you prove her wrong, and maybe give her more reasons to chuckle, like when she sees you running from the bedroom at night to wash some utensils in the kitchen just because she would have scolded you.

Battleship Jo and Loneliness is a book written by Prathap Suthan for his late wife Jyothi Prathap. It is not for sale and is privately published only as a mark of tribute to her and his grief.