My
father would have turned 100 on 9th July(17th
June according to his birth star) if he was alive. He might not have
allowed us to celebrate it as a function with fanfare. He didn't when
he turned 60 way back in 1973 though a religious function
(sashtiabthapoorthi) was the norm of the day in middle class families
at the time, perhaps even to date. But thanks to the initiative taken
by my elder sister we all had a wonderful time in a unique way. All
of us in the family(parents with all of us the children as none of us
had got married then) went to Tiruchendur the shore temple. It was so
rare an occasion to go on an outing with him let alone to a temple.
Leaving aside the cost involved (which we knew he could not afford an
outing what with his meagre income from a clerical job he hated from
the day he joined the company till he retired from it), he could
bring the whole world indoors with his imagination and wisdom and
declare that wherever you went all you see is the sky above your head
and the earth below your feet. And quote Oscar Wilde who said "why
do you say The Nayagara falls is one of nature's wonders. It would
have been a wonder if the water rose from below to the top. Water
falling down is normal and not a wonder after all". As for
visiting temples he was least interested and perhaps done twice or
thrice in his whole life of eighty plus years. So it was such a rare
gift he gave us all in his sixtieth birthday by accompanying us to
the shore temple. But then since he hailed from Pathamadai in
Tirunelveli District he had a soft corner for Tiruchendur.
That said I'm not sure how we
would have celebrated his turning 100. But I think I owe at least
this to him. Just a meagre attempt to thank for all the intangible
assets that we have inherited from him. Yes, he was not great success
in today's parlance when a man's success is inevitably linked to his
financial assets. But if Thiruvalluvar's words
Thakkaar thakavilar enbadu
avaravar
echaathal kaanap padum
தக்கார்
தகவிலர் என்பது அவரவர்
எச்சத்தாற்
காணப் படும்
(whether a man is worth his
mettle or not is measured by what he leaves behind)
are anything to go by then he
was a great success I can say.
We have inherited quite a lot of
virtues from him.
That
I am able to write these few words even if sprinkled with lots of
spelling, grammar and contents mistakes (சொல்
குற்றம் பொருள் குற்றம்
பொருத்தருள்க )
is in itself a great asset that I have inherited from him. He was
indeed a man of letters. A voracious reader in the true sense of the
word. His appetite for reading never left him even after he turned
80. He loved authors like Oscar Wilde, A.J. Cronin, Somerset Maughm,
Aldus Huxley and the list is long. Of course his most favourite was
the inimitable George Bernard Shaw. He used to note down passages he
liked from the books he read in note books like a student studying
for exams and discuss with his literary friends who were of course
rare. Though he tried to inculcate the habit in us we were busy with
our own school books and the need to fill the space created by his
inability in financial matters. We didn't realise that we were
closing our eyes to such a great treasure quite close at hand. Only
after securing a decent job in a bank(which i hated in the beginning
as he did his, but started liking it afterwards though) I turned my
eyes to the treasure of collection of books that he had. One of my
all time favourites from the treasure is 'The Citadel' by A.J.
Cronin. I still remember the passion with which he would quote the
final speech made by the protagonist, who was a medical doctor,
before the Medical Council ridiculing the foolishness of their
contempt for traditional medical practitioners. Thus I developed a
healthy admiration for him, but again due to my job and laziness I
didn't fully utilise the opportunity to gain more from his vast
wisdom. This is one of my few regrets in life. I for one take life as
it comes, own up my decisions and not regret things I have
missed.('What can not be cured has to be endured' my father would
have quoted Shaw.) But this is something I can't help regretting.
Especially after my sons started growing up and developed a taste for
reading, initially with my encoragement and soon on their own and I
too grew along with them. Oh dad how much I long to have you with us
to discuss with you the little that we read.
Another great quality in him was
that he was fit as a fiddle, rather as the strings in his badminton
racket almost till the end. Yes, he was a ball badminton player and
represented his company TVS in quite a few matches. That was perhaps
his only pleasant memories about his company. By the way his father
was a close friend of Mr.T.V.Sundaram Iyengar, the founder of the TVS
groups. My father was well acquainted with the sons of the great
business tycoon of south India. Any one with that sort of contacts
would have tried and derived maximum personal benefits out of it. But
not my father and I am proud of it.
Well, back to the secrets of his
health. He used to walk at least five kilometres every morning till
the end. Most of the days more. And that too a brisk walk. Everyone
in the extended family knew this and appreciated it. As in reading I
can claim to follow him in this good habit also, if not to match his
standards, at least to some extent. Due to these two healthy habits
of walking and playing he lead almost a disease free life. Yes,
almost, except for a chronic stomach pain self diagnosed as peptic
ulcer. He suffered from gastric trouble because of that and had a
perennial fear of death. I remember him waking up every one at
midnight due to his nagging pain and because his gastric problem
would give him discomfort to his heart and breathing, he would
declare that he was going to die immediately. We children would be
scared and speechless. But my mother, cool as she was would give him
some water and butter milk with asafoetida and vendayam added and he
would be back to normal soon. He rarely went to a doctor because
'doctors would experiment on our bodies like we were their guinea
pigs'. That said he had very great respect for doctors and the
medical profession for the great strides made in anatomy.
He was a great lover of carnatic
music. Though he didn't attempt to sing, he could easily identify
ragas. And he had learnt it simply by listening to the great
musicians either in person or from the radio. He hated film songs.
But was a great fan of M.K.Thaiagaraja Bhagavathar, the film actor
and a singer. I naturally preferred the next generation film singer
TMS. My father would generously appreciate carnatic based film songs
wonderfully rendered by TMS, like Madavipponmayilal, ennamellam oar
idathaiye naaduthe, Radhe unakku kopam agadhadi(M.K.T has also sung a
song with similar pallavi in the same raga, my vote was for TMS's and
appa's for MKT) Naan paadidum kalaigalin sandam and the list of songs
is long too. And I remember one incident. Once Karpagavalli nin
porpathangal, the undisputed master piece by TMS was played in the
radio followed by a great song by a greater female musician. To my
untrained ears the TMS song was more appealing and I expressed it to
my father expecting a refute from him. To my utter surprise he
agreed. This is one of the greatest memories I cherish and treasure.
An ear for good music is all I have inherited from him. Here also I
could have done much more.
As I mentioned earlier he was
least interested in religious rituals. I think I follow suit, though
I do participate in and sometimes perform rituals just to respect the
feelings of those around and also it gives a platform for a social
get together given the nature of our society. If he was asked to
participate in rituals and to follow certain rules attached to it he
would immediately quote Jesus Christ, “Sabbath is made for Man; Man
is not made for Sabbath.” One just can't disagree. He would quote
an example from his childhood experience. His maternal grand mother
was living with him and his parents. He was more attached to her than
to his own mother and named his eldest daughter(my sister) after her.
Once grandma went to have a darshan of a great religious leader. And
was denied entry to the place simply because she was a widow. My
father was very much upset by the incident and would often ask us,
“The plight of widows in those days was even otherwise pathetic.
Should not a holy man have enough grace to fulfill her little wish of
having his darshan?” His narrations have had a lot of impact on me
I think. Any little empathy I have for the less privileged and any
repulsion I have always had against high handedness of the more
powerful perhaps has an origin in this narration of his I think.
I know this would be incomplete
without a mention about my mother. But it is difficult to write about
her for more than one reason. For one, even after 18 years I feel
like being lost in the desert without having her around. My heart is
filled with pain and eyes with tears. No amount of words would
suffice to thank her for what she did. She stood like a pillar and
bore the family on her shoulders. Given the nature of my father, she
had to take care of all our worldly needs and she did it wonderfully
well. One could imagine what Chellammal would have gone through with
a husband like Bharathiar. We were witness to something similar to
that. With very little formal education, unlike my father, my mother
excellently complimented the gap created by his lack of worldly
wisdom. Yes, they complimented each other in many ways to make us
what we are in their own beautiful way. This complimenting each other
lasted till the end. Amma suffered one of the worst diseases for more
than three years and appa was there by her side, giving her a silent
support and died within days of her death. Perhaps she was waiting
there above to receive him and relieve him of his fear of death.
To
my dear brothers and sisters, I have said these few words from my
experience and perception(யானையைப்
பார்த்த குருடன் கதையாக).
You might have different and more interesting stories to tell. And
how much I long my dear Babu Chittappa was there to share this and
comment on it.
Dear dad and mom, continue to
lead us from the heaven above.
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