Heena Grover Menon: A Friend Who Would Not Give Up On Me

From left to right: Heena Grover Menon, Ena Jain Kejriwal, Tanvi, and Sameer Arshad Khatlani.

By Sameer Arshad Khatlani

I have no control over how quickly I crawl back into my shell. That is perhaps how I am and I have finally made peace with it. People mostly give up on me and rightly so. But there are a few who have not and I cannot thank them enough. Among them is Heena Grover Menon. Heena and I are chalk and cheese. Outgoing uninhibited and pleasant, I can go on and on using similar adjectives for Heena that do not even remotely apply to me. There were, as such, heavy odds against Heena and me becoming acquaintances let alone being friends. 

But Heena overcame and how! I was as usual on the sidelines of a social event—my first Times of India party at the Hotel Samrat in Delhi's diplomatic enclave in 2008—when Heena had enough of my reclusiveness. She literally dragged me to the heart of the party. Only Heena could have pulled this off. 

I had joined the Times of India over a year back and she was among a majority of the colleagues that I had not even spoken to. But Heena being Heena and thanks to her I became a part of a group of friends who were key to the best years of my life—both personally and professionally—I spent at The Times of India we still are nostalgic about. 

Heena's easygoing company over snacks and sambhar at my favourite Udupi Cafe, which was then the only restaurant with decent seating at India's Fleet Street Bahadurshah Zafar Marg (New Delhi), was a stress buster. We would let off steam and return to work energised to deal with not just demanding work but also difficult colleagues. Heena would often take newcomers under her wing and lift their spirits in an often high-pressure and deadline-oriented newsroom.  

I would, meanwhile, continue retreating into my shell but she would not give up on pulling me back again and gain. She would move on and eventually settle in Pune. True to form, I have often forgotten to wish her on her birthday and marriage anniversary. On her last birthday, I texted to wish her well and sensed her patience was wearing thin. Before Sam-my boy, as she would call me, crawls into his shell again I thought of writing this thank you note to Heena for her affection and patience, which have stood me in good stead.

Sameer Arshad Khatlani is a journalist and the author