Memories of my father ……. 15 years on

Memories of my father ….. 15 years on

My first memories of my father is of his smiling face, the magic tricks he performed in which a ball of paper in his palm will disappear and then appear, a ball pin will disappear into his hand.  His expression, priceless, as surprised as me.  Many packets of biriyani devoured in the upstairs room at Iyyattil, he loved food and introduced me to local flavours of Kerala and Delhi.  He had a full laugh and loved children, most of all he loved me and Deepti to bits.

My father, he is a fighter too, he survived small pox in the early seventies and that was a miracle.  The only person who visited our home was Dr. P N Seth, who bravely came to treat him occasionally.  He also survived the emergency days and I say that because he was vocal and he spoke up against the cessastion of constituional rights of the people of India.  I had to learn the 20 point program during the emergency and make charts and my father never made fun or mocked my work but he said that I must learn them to know that nothing can be at the cost of liberty of people.  I dreaded his arguments with my uncles and aunts, some of whom were in politics.  He must have been lonely, fighting against a power that was scary and people who did not believe in the power but were too scared to speak up.  He stood by and took up the case for Valsalammai’s cousin, a brilliant economist in the planning commission, who was arrested.  He won the case, got him released but alas that uncle became a broken man.  My father took up cases for those whom not many would have stood up for, I have seen many clients at our Girinagar home, looking up to him with great respect, mothers crying with happiness when her child was released from prison, a man happy at his reinstatement.  Not all of them paid any fee either and that was not a concern for my father at all, they gave what they could, sometimes a sackfull of rice, sometimes a bunch of bananas, some times a packet of pepper.  He may have worried about finances but I still remember the look of gratitude of many of his clients.  Couples  fighting for divorce were often counseled by him.  For a very long time, one tall sardarji, a garderner at the Supreme Court will give my father 2 red roses, sometimes a bunch of lillies, he would take me round the garden and show me flowers and I used to ask my father as to why sardarji gives us flowers and all I got from my father was a smile.  I have spent many hours in his chamber over the years during my childhood, sleeping on his chair surrounded by the smell of books, tea and buttered toast.
He was a good man at heart as many people who admired and respected him, there were some who took advantage of him.  He knew of this but looking back I think he just did not care, unhappy yes but he believed in a God for justice.  He was a popular lawyer in the offices of the court and his chamber was kept in his name till his death even though he did not attend court for about 8 years. Only after his death did they send us a letter for canceling his chamber.  Many a condolence letter was recevied from the judges of the Supreme Court of India.

All through this we never wanted for good food, good books, good education, he put us on the top.  Every single day he dropped us to our school bus stand and he was very proud of us irrespective of the marks we got.  He would say “well done” and “very good” to us whatever our marks much to my mother’s chagrin.  What my mother still cannot undersand is how he could get and distribute sweets when Deepti got the marks she got in Standard 10!  For him we could do no wrong.  What he taught me and my sister Deepti, is to think for ourselves and take our own decisions, starting from what we want to wear, to what we want to eat, to what we wanted to study, to choose our life partners.  He also instilled the love of reading and love of music in us, he bought us books from our childhood and made it fun by buying us comics first and then slowly graduating us to Enid Blytons and so on.  He indulged Deepti when she swtiched to reading a hindi comic series Chacha Chaudhary, my mother and I used to laugh at her but he said she could read what she liked.

He was the most non interfering parent in our school, the teachers loved him, my Pricincipal looked up to him because in those days he talked about no homework for children and voted for books being kept in school and not allowing children to take them home.  My school bus driver, Bahadur, said a “Shalam” to him every day at the bus stop.

He was very close to his family, my grandparents and my aunts and uncles and extended family and I have met them because he would visit them every vacation and take me with him.  Our annual visits to Vadakkath and Guruvayur were the highlights of my summer vacation along with Achamma, Valiachan and my cousins, Sunil, Nandini, Lakshmi and Sankar.  Some great moments when we went to Shoranur for biriyani, had fish fry in the compound outside.

In Delhi, he and I visited many a dhabas in Rajinder Nagar for roti and mutton curry and then the mutton kababs.  We even had boiled egg which was Deeptis favourite,  once Indiramai introduced me to golgappas, we had golgappas from the small stall next to Roopak stores in Karol Bagh.  On saturdays, when he came home early he would come with keema curry from Minar Restaurant, palak mutton from Kake da Dhaba, noodles from Golden Dragon, set dosa from UNI canteen.  He had friends at all these places and they welcomed him warmly.  I cannot forget the shammi kabab from Wengers, Kulcha Chola from Nathu’s.  He loved food and was open to all kinds of food and his favourite was biriyani from Old Delhi, Karim’s in the days that not many knew about them.

Veda, you must know that he was so happy when you came home, he told me that.  He loved you to bits and despite his health condition he was waiting to see you, hold you, have you sleep with him on his bed, look at you and smile at you. You had the honour of knowing him even though it was for a few years and that too during his illness.  Avyukt and Advay, who have the honour of being born on his birthday and Arihant, I will tell you his stories.

Then the decline began, the disease, started and it took control over him, it broke his body but he fought and kept his mind sharp and his soul intact.  He suffered silently never ever complaining or asking why.  He followed doctors orders and patiently suffered for eight years, from changing signatures, to slurred speech, to inability to walk, to being bed ridden, to difficulty in swallowing and then the last time he went to the hospital over a weekend.  I remember looking at him and telling him that the nurse is aking me to take off his chain and telling him that he will be in the ICU where we cannot be with him.  He nodded, he understood and it made me furious when the doctor told me that he cannot comprehend.    He left us Monday, February 23, at 3:00 p.m., telling us get on with our lives.  As all others I am sure he had some bad in him but I think that he was a humble and gentle soul.  Three Cheers to him………