I
I've lived in the U.K now for almost 17 years, and yet every year the changes that the seasons bring to the flora and fauna still astound me, filling me with wonder....what has this got to do with my father, I hear you ask! Well - because this sense of wonder, of taking time to 'stand and stare', of not being blase about nature - all these were qualities my dad possessed! I remember many a time overhearing him tell my mother (on his return from his daily sojourn!) about some plant in bloom, or something yet to bloom...of him showing me around Mr Naidu's garden, pointing out to various changes!
He was a man of rigid principles, and quite inflexible in his views and opinions too! There are ignorant creatures who remember him for just his temper. But he was much, much more than a quick temper. I don't know anyone else who deserves the description of 'a larger than life personality' more than he did! His childhood story fills me with wonder...imagine running away from home before or after his final year at school : taking on odd jobs to survive, sleeping rough...and yet somehow managing to find his way into the army...and ending up a qualified refrigeration engineer! Stuff that movies and novels are made of!
He was also Mr Fix-it - he could and would put his hand to mending anything that was broken! I also remember how often - and how well! - he expressed his gratitude for some little thing I had bought for him many, many years ago! A shawl I had got him from a trip to Kodaikanal before my marriage (in 1988) was maintained well and used regularly - and commented on annually! "Do you remember this shawl, kutti?", he would ask with a broad smile, in his booming voice! His lovely handwriting...and precisely written letters...his little eccentric touches (making his own tea until the day he left for the hospital on his final departure from Geetha's home...), washing his clothes himself as "no one else knew how to wash them properly!", the quirky notes in his diary ("no supplement with The Hindu - again!", "a lotus has bloomed in Geetha's pond", to name but a couple!), his sudden chanting of "Duke...Duke...Duke..." (my sister Geetha's pet Pomeranian) whilst reading something...the way he hid the After-8 mints I took specially for him, like a little kid!
I remember how he would carry toffees and candies in his little shoulder bag, to hand them out to the little kids in the farm.. How he used to read out and explain something in the newspaper to Nagaraj(a neighbour's domestic help)...or help him read or write some letter. After all, this was my dad - who could speak (oh...was it six? Seven? ) many languages! He also read book reviews, and made notes of novels he wanted to buy!
His daughters were princesses to him - and he made all of us feel special. His punctuality would have driven my dear mum nuts (he had to have his meal early as he had to catch the 8.30am bus into town!), and I remember Mr Naidu Senior's quip, 'Collector office-kku kelambittar!"!!. On my annual visits, he would take me aside and ask me what I wanted him to do for me - and every year in my list of 'to do/buy' things in/from India, I'd a section titled 'for appa'! He loved being useful, and one forgot his age as he did too! I remember once bumping into him on Commercial Street (I was with my sister Usha), and requesting him to come back home with us in the taxi, and he refused - insisting that he went home by bus as usual!
The first thing I told my husband Raja when appa got admitted into the hospital for the last time was - "he knows I'm coming in a week, I'm sure he will wait for me" ! Foolish words, coming from a pragmatic, practical Capricorn like me, but I was convinced that my dad was invincible! He would choose when to go...and he wouldn't go without saying bye to me, surely? Alas - that wasn't to be.
It hurts to read the final notes in his diary - he was in terrible pain the night before he was admitted (he didn't realise he was suffering a 'stroke') - but he did not wish to trouble anyone, so spent a sleepless night before acting on it. Of course, it was his time to go - and I will always remember an incident my mother related to me: They were getting ready to leave for the hospital, and she asked appa if he was scared. His response? "enne bayam - onna thirumbi varuvein illaina vara mattein"! ("what's to fear? I'll either return , or not!").
Appa - I do hope that you have passed that gene on to all of us as well - that when it is our time to go we will also do so with courage, grace and dignity.
I can still picture the smile on his face as he lay there, waiting to be taken away. The house was eerily quiet after he left - and yet I was certain that I could hear echoes of his booming voice call out, 'Duke...Duke...Duke...'.....
Goodbye appa - I am sure wherever you are, the people around you are saying, with wonder : 'what a larger than life personality he is!'!
He was a man of rigid principles, and quite inflexible in his views and opinions too! There are ignorant creatures who remember him for just his temper. But he was much, much more than a quick temper. I don't know anyone else who deserves the description of 'a larger than life personality' more than he did! His childhood story fills me with wonder...imagine running away from home before or after his final year at school : taking on odd jobs to survive, sleeping rough...and yet somehow managing to find his way into the army...and ending up a qualified refrigeration engineer! Stuff that movies and novels are made of!
He was also Mr Fix-it - he could and would put his hand to mending anything that was broken! I also remember how often - and how well! - he expressed his gratitude for some little thing I had bought for him many, many years ago! A shawl I had got him from a trip to Kodaikanal before my marriage (in 1988) was maintained well and used regularly - and commented on annually! "Do you remember this shawl, kutti?", he would ask with a broad smile, in his booming voice! His lovely handwriting...and precisely written letters...his little eccentric touches (making his own tea until the day he left for the hospital on his final departure from Geetha's home...), washing his clothes himself as "no one else knew how to wash them properly!", the quirky notes in his diary ("no supplement with The Hindu - again!", "a lotus has bloomed in Geetha's pond", to name but a couple!), his sudden chanting of "Duke...Duke...Duke..." (my sister Geetha's pet Pomeranian) whilst reading something...the way he hid the After-8 mints I took specially for him, like a little kid!
I remember how he would carry toffees and candies in his little shoulder bag, to hand them out to the little kids in the farm.. How he used to read out and explain something in the newspaper to Nagaraj(a neighbour's domestic help)...or help him read or write some letter. After all, this was my dad - who could speak (oh...was it six? Seven? ) many languages! He also read book reviews, and made notes of novels he wanted to buy!
His daughters were princesses to him - and he made all of us feel special. His punctuality would have driven my dear mum nuts (he had to have his meal early as he had to catch the 8.30am bus into town!), and I remember Mr Naidu Senior's quip, 'Collector office-kku kelambittar!"!!. On my annual visits, he would take me aside and ask me what I wanted him to do for me - and every year in my list of 'to do/buy' things in/from India, I'd a section titled 'for appa'! He loved being useful, and one forgot his age as he did too! I remember once bumping into him on Commercial Street (I was with my sister Usha), and requesting him to come back home with us in the taxi, and he refused - insisting that he went home by bus as usual!
The first thing I told my husband Raja when appa got admitted into the hospital for the last time was - "he knows I'm coming in a week, I'm sure he will wait for me" ! Foolish words, coming from a pragmatic, practical Capricorn like me, but I was convinced that my dad was invincible! He would choose when to go...and he wouldn't go without saying bye to me, surely? Alas - that wasn't to be.
It hurts to read the final notes in his diary - he was in terrible pain the night before he was admitted (he didn't realise he was suffering a 'stroke') - but he did not wish to trouble anyone, so spent a sleepless night before acting on it. Of course, it was his time to go - and I will always remember an incident my mother related to me: They were getting ready to leave for the hospital, and she asked appa if he was scared. His response? "enne bayam - onna thirumbi varuvein illaina vara mattein"! ("what's to fear? I'll either return , or not!").
Appa - I do hope that you have passed that gene on to all of us as well - that when it is our time to go we will also do so with courage, grace and dignity.
I can still picture the smile on his face as he lay there, waiting to be taken away. The house was eerily quiet after he left - and yet I was certain that I could hear echoes of his booming voice call out, 'Duke...Duke...Duke...'.....
Goodbye appa - I am sure wherever you are, the people around you are saying, with wonder : 'what a larger than life personality he is!'!
