Children mean the world to their parents and the loss of a child can bring their life to a standstill. The Machados lost their son Kiran in a car accident on February 21. Kiran and three of his friends were heading towards a coffee shop near Dasarahalli gate on NH7 highway when the tragedy occurred. Kiran would have turned 18 today, and his parents had grand plans for him. The shocked and grieving family is trying to come to terms with their immense loss. To express his love for his son, Kiran’s father Vincent Machado writes a letter to his son, expressing what Kiran meant to him, in the hope that he will read it wherever he is.

Our dearest son Kiran,

On March 30, you would have reached that magic age every teenager aspires for. How handsome you would have looked wearing the new clothes your mother was planning to get you on your 18th birthday and also riding at last on your longed for gift- a motorcycle.

But life had other plans for you. The cold remains of your body in a tragic car accident on that dreadful night of February 21 stopped your life’s journey in its tracks. And with that your dreams. And ours.
The spine chilling news delivered by messengers in the night - “Kiran is no more.” Those dreaded words still echo in my mind, the instant my entire life changed in a terrifying way, the sudden shock and reality that we will see you no more tore through my entire being. I wanted to die with you, your life was mine too and your death mine as well.

My dear son, I still feel your warmth and presence everywhere I go. Through all the pain, I try to imagine your 18th birthday.

You longed for a bike on your birthday. You had already chosen yours. You wanted to learn to drive a car, go to a new college, vacation in Goa with us and all your friends.

I remember our earlier vacations with you in Goa. What a joy it was to spend those precious moments with you. Had we known it was our last, I would have never come back. You had said that when you turned 18, you would build your body at the gym next door. All your life planned meticulously for that one special day, a new chapter, a great beginning.

Messages pour in from your innumerable friends from the day you left us. Their frequency has gone up in the run up to your birthday. They describe you as “naive, optimistic, quick witted and very talented”. A friend writes: “Kiran had a relentless attitude towards helping a friend, his unique and witty questions and arguments, a sense of simplicity and most of all the way he portrayed himself, uncomplicated and simple.”

Another writes: “Happy birthday kiran :)

You're 18 and now legal. I wish you were here to finally get that car of yours. To start driving and to flaunt that licence in our faces.

From the day that I met you, that ever present smile just never faded away. Those droopy eyes always gave away that spark of innocence.

You made us better human beings, you made us smile through these two years and no memory of mine will ever be complete without you. No one can ever take your place, Kiran! You were always that impatient little brat who just had to know what the plan was or what we were going to do next. I miss you buddy! Happy 18th! - MINU.

Your friends tell us about your passion for world affairs, your riveting performance in a UN debate held in college, your excitement about Wikileaks, your musical talents in college functions. All I have for the rest of my life are memories of your growing up years.

Your day would typically start with you coming out of your room in your crumpled boxers and T-shirt, which invariably was mine, and you would mumble something like “Daddy, please make me a cup of coffee.” You would then return to bed and forget about the coffee. A couple of hours later you would get up, saying, “Daddy you never called me when my coffee was ready!” I would of course protest that you went back to sleep, but by then you were gone!

Your love for food was well known. Remember how you would constantly hover around the fridge and kitchen, searching for your favourite meal - grilled or barbecued chicken.

My son, you were extremely shy and never expressed your deeper feeling easily. Whenever I used to hug you and say “I love you,” you would respond with “Yah.” I would say “What Yah?” And you would mumble something like “Yah. Yah, me too,” and wander off. You were a very private person and never burdened others with your problems. Your room was your kingdom.

Your trips twice a year to Saudi Arabia to visit me meant a lot to me because that’s where I discovered most of your loves and interests.

You showed a strong sense of independence and travelled alone to spend your vacation there. At the age of eight, you came to Saudi alone. Very often you would whip out a list at the airport itself of the things you intended to do. One such list was the different types of foods you wanted to try out during the vacation. You were a simple child with simple needs and pleasures.

I still remember you would play games in a mall that doled out tickets for the number of hours you spent there. Your ambition was to get enough tickets to win a monster truck. Every day you travelled 160 km with me to the same mall for a month and finally got the truck!

That night your older brother, Rohan, arrived, and together you both had a great time playing with it. In the morning I found the truck in a hundred pieces. When I asked you why you had taken it apart despite working for an entire month to get it, you said: “It needed repairs.”

It was then that I discovered your insatiable curiosity. You just had to take things apart to understand how they worked, and then repair it.

You became fascinated with computer hardware and software at the age of 14 and achieved your ambition of building a high speed computer, equipped with the proper software. You would spend hours in the huge computer markets of Saudi searching for parts, discussing with people. Eventually, everyone knew you in the market.

Dear son, I was so proud when you came to Saudi reading a novel at the age of 12 on the flight and continued reading the same at home instead of watching TV. You started with authors such as Sidney Sheldon, Jeffrey Archer, Harry Potter, then moved to quantum physics and particle physics and cosmology.

Your curiosity and thirst for knowledge knew no bounds. From a very young age you questioned what we accepted unquestioningly. You loved life, never complained, and took each day as it came, with a childlike innocence and curiosity.

Today I feel dead, walking in a daze, searching for answers to numerous questions and behind it all, desperately aware that you will not be coming home. I keep wishing it was a mistake and maybe, just maybe, you might knock on the door and come home again.

We love you, we miss you, but today these are just words said aloud to your photo, your grave, your clothes, none of which have your warmth and charisma, your charming smile, that special look from your droopy eyes, your subtle humour and intellect. Just words said aloud by your mother and me and your two brothers, in the hope that you can hear and in your own way comfort us.

“Happy birthday” our baby, our child…though 18, you will always be the baby we carried in our arms for just a month short of 18 years.

With everlasting love,
Your father,
Vincent Machado