My father would have turned 80 today (30th April - 1st May),
going by the Tamizh Hindu Panchangam. I felt this would be a good time for me to
write a long pending eulogy, something I have wanted to do for almost 15 months
now. But whenever I try to write something, words just fail me. My mind goes
haywire and I am unable to get any cogent thoughts.
Each person holds his/her father in very high esteem and I am
no different. Those who knew him wouldn’t disagree to the pages I can write
about his virtues. But then, that is not my style and more importantly, it
wasn’t his nature to flaunt his qualities either. The next few paragraphs may
perhaps, capture the essence of who he was, for the benefit of those who didn’t
know him.
My father was by nature a very loving and caring soul. He
was one who wouldn’t partake in the politics of life and preferred to lead a
straight life. His tastes were simple, his objectives were ideal and his
affection towards his family knew no limits. He could be friendly with a
toddler, a brat, a teenager, an adult, a peer and even seniors. He had an amazing
sense of humor that ranged from Wodehousian style to plain kadi jokes. “Paropakaram
Itham Shareeram” says a Sanskrit verse and that was his motto in life. He was
always ready to help anyone in any way possible within his means.
When I was growing up, he was always there with me. My mind
is filled with scenes where it was just father-son bonding time at the beach, cricket
matches at Chepauk, movies, restaurants etc. In my late teen years, he even had
a father-son talk with me – advising, nay suggesting, that I don’t get carried
away by my age and do something just out of peer pressure. On a similar note,
when I was leaving for the US – the first time that I was going to be out of my
house for an extended period of time – all he told me was to enjoy my time
there, with limits of course.
Like many of you know, I was not a first-in-academics type
of person. Despite all the money he spent on extra classes, not once did my
father regret that to my face and for all my failures (I once scored 19% in a
University semester exam), he would only say encouraging words. He was probably
keen that I do well in cricket, at least to the level that he achieved. I
didn’t shine there either, though he did put me into good coaching classes.
Never once did he say that I disappointed him and would only continue to
encourage me. I was without a job for a year after college and he only had
words of encouragement to me; goading me to build up some skills or trying for
higher education. It was a different matter that he constantly encouraged me to
run or walk and be active, instead of lazing around on the sofa!
When I joined Infosys and was asked to work at an office 50
kms away, he didn’t like it. He was not swayed by the name tag of the company
and felt that work is work and could be done anywhere. But he understood why I
was taking it up and didn’t keep harping on the topic. He only used to feel sad
about my long travel and that was all that he used to say. Of course, he would
get tensed if I was late and being telephonically challenged, he would urge my
mother to call me for my GPS updates.
It was not just with me, but even with others, he just wouldn’t
want to hurt anyone. He never had an issue in helping others, but would never
seek help from others, even when he had the rights to do so. My neighbour kid wrote
to me after my father died, of an instance where he met him in a department
store and offered a lift to him. My father thanked him, but politely refused. A
few moments later, he sought out this kid and checked if the kid didn’t feel
offended by his refusal. Raghu has many stories about him offering a lift and
my father opting otherwise.
He was not really fond of pets and it was only during his
last couple of years, that he started warming up to the favourite dog in my
street. Not that he hated it or did anything to hurt it, but he wouldn’t go out
of the way to do anything for it. But over the years, as he saw my mother and me
feed it, he started to buy rusk and bread for it on his own. He even graduated
to feeding it after some time.
On the night that he developed chest pain and I drove him to
the clinic, he told me to drive in a relaxed manner and not get tensed; always
the man who didn’t want to put others in difficulty on his count. Sadly, those became
the last words he spoke to me.
There are abundant stories in my family, and more from my
mother, about how he wouldn’t let even a mosquito hover around me. He never hit
me or scolded me and the only time he made me cry, was when he died.
How I wish he were here to celebrate his 80th
birthday. Missing you appa.
