Saturday, February 20, 2016

RIP Papa


It is about 25 years now, when I met him first time at the New Delhi Railway Station. A short, slim, soft-spoken person – very different from my image of a typical local Delhiite. He had come to drop his daughter at the railway station, on a train to Bangalore. With a typical retired Government official looks, he seemed worried sending his daughter far away from Delhi for a good 2 month training. Today, even with all these modern communication gadgets and a daughter ready to step into the corporate world, I can correlate better with the anxiety of that gentleman.


We were some 5-6 of us, going together for our training to Bangalore. All of us assured this gentleman that we would take good care of his only daughter. Just that I took it too seriously and continued to stand by my word even after our return and finally married his daughter after a year. And then I got to know ‘Papa’ more closely.

During my growing years in Kanpur, like any other child I too idolized my father. His typical South Indian rule-book oriented, disciplined lifestyle made him stand out in that otherwise chaotic, carefree, happy-go-lucky society. And when I moved closely with ‘Papa’, I realized that he too had those fastidious streaks around righteousness, around self-discipline like my father had. In no time he destroyed all those myths I believed around the characteristics of a ‘Punjabi’ – which anyway he wasn’t.

We had completely diverse backgrounds – He had a British inspired upbringing in Bahawalpur and loved having his continental breakfast with a knife and a fork every day while I had a typical Tamil upbringing and loved having my Sambar-rice using all my fingers. But we gelled.

The Leo in me was excited to see his huge collection of discarded items and a well-equipped tool-box that reminded me of the same that we used to have at home. He loved reusing his junk and I loved repairing broken stuff myself, instead of depending on random poorly skilled workers. And we gelled.

He detested the modern day politicians and I didn’t have any particular liking for them either. And we gelled.

He loved gardening and I did not mind assembling some required stuff for him. And we gelled.

He was a connoisseur of tea and coffee and I loved my daily dosage of 5-6 cups as well. And we gelled.

He believed in and practiced Homeopathy and I wasn’t averse to that either for any of my ailments. And we gelled.

When we shifted to Bangalore in 1998, he continued to visit us twice a year. He loved the Bangalore weather and the city as such. And its bakeries too. We explored the typical south Indian eateries, the well decked grocery stores, the local temples together. And we gelled.

He found fault with my wife and I readily agreed. When I pointed mistakes with his daughter he smiled and nodded. And we gelled.

He lived on his terms and was dependent on none even at the age of 92. The day he was taken to hospital for a short 10 day stay, he made his own morning tea and had his bread-butter-jam, in style, with a knife and a fork.

As he passed away on 18th, two days before I was scheduled to visit him, I had only one regret. He left without divulging a secret to his son and daughter - that he liked me more than he liked them. Rest in Peace, Papa.