My Grandfather and I

Note: I had written this post for my personal blog in November 2012. Sharing the same on this platform so that it goes out to a larger audience.

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My earliest feelings for my grandfather, V. M. Radhakrishnan were similar to the purported reaction of the Afghans when Uncle Sam came knocking on their doors - Shock and Awe! I had always heard more about him than what I'd seen. I guess that only added to the enigma. I'd heard tales of tyranny and indifference; of raging tempers and acts of rage; of him being a stickler for order and of him meting out punishments for any act of even perceived disobedience.

I remember gawking at this man of immense presence (he towered at close to 6'2" at one time). I remember standing behind the curtains waiting for him to finish off his dosa so that I can promptly bring one more or replenish his glass of 'tootam' (which meant water, in his archaic Tamil). I remember talking to him in spatterings of English and him being impressed with it. I remember him sharing anecdotes from his college days, and of him reciting a poem that he must've read in the 1940s. I remember walking along with him and trying to match his giant and brisk strides with my tiny and inconsequential legs. I remember him giving me advises on what to do with my future; how I should keep notes of all the articles I read in the papers and magazines for future reference and how I should seriously try giving the IAS examination so that he can come stay at the collector's bungalow. In 2001, he had asked me to write a letter to him stating what I wanted to do after my standard 10 board exams. With trepidation, I carefully chose my words and wrote him a letter to the best of my abilities. I'll never forget how happy he was to see a precocious 15 year old kid use the term 'intrigue' in the right context. He was the first one to plant a seed in my brain that I should pursue humanities. Although he wanted me to pursue English Literature, I ended up doing a BA in Psychology. But I always knew that he was proud of me and saw great potential in me. Whether I lived up to his expectation is something that I'd never know.

Pride came naturally to him. He was a proud and confident man. Proud of his memory, his knowledge and his ability to work in the most challenging circumstances. I distinctly remember him telling me once "I would never want anyone to respect me for my age. I want to command respect for my knowledge." He was also someone who always planned and stayed ahead of time. When my grandmother died, he went from two packets of cigarettes a day to zero in one day. He did this because he knew that if he continued to smoke then his body would give in faster and he'd end up becoming dependent on his children. Dependency is something that he loathed all his life.

With time, I grew up. But I never saw him grow old. Even at 80, he was still someone who was independent and living life on his own terms. I never saw him asking me to press his aching legs after a long day at work. In fact, I hardly remember seeing any emotion coming from him. It was as if nothing shook or troubled him. Even in his 80s, he was still walking with his long strides. But time caught up with him eventually... and it got its sweet revenge. One day his legs finally stopped following his brain's orders and gave in. He never quite recovered from there. In February 2012, I and my family came to know that he was suffering from Parkinson's disease and that he might have been suffering from it for quite some time. But no one came to know as he never shared such things with anyone. Suddenly, we realised that all those instances where he used to ask the same question again and again were not because he couldn't hear, it was because he couldn't comprehend.

When he was brought to stay with us in June 2012, he was a shadow of his former self. Dependent on a caretaker for even his basic necessities, bed-ridden, repentant and regressive. With Parkinson's came Dementia and with Dementia came his irrational fear that people around him want to rob him and harm him. Initially, I failed to recognize him. Then I realised that the V. M. Radhakrishnan I knew had long ceased to exist and person staying in my home is just a body without a soul. Waiting for destiny to roll its dice.. one last time. I guess in the game of life, the house always wins.

I know that time will catch up with me as well. Some years from now, I might not remember him the way I remember him now. This post is just my humble effort to record my memory, for posterity.

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Addendum: Shri. V. M. Radhakrishnan passed away at 5 am on January 06, 2013. He never recovered from Parkinson's to actually read this post that was written for him. All my life, I've seen him know everything that is worth knowing; so I firmly believe that he'd know about this post as well.

Everyone who has interacted with him, knows would understand when what I mean when I say that it is very difficult to put down your thoughts about V. M. Radhakrishnan in a few words. 

For us grandchildren he was always Radhu Thatha. He was more a phenomenon than a person.

Radhu thatha’s visits were always something to look forward to … He was the Santa Claus who didn’t wait for Christmas to arrive…He would always come with a big pack of Gems and books or  magazines like Champak and Chandamama J.  My first Dictionary and Thesaurus were gifts from him.

It is impossible for me to forget the Archimedes’ Principal of displacement of water and the manner in which he taught me that with a plate, tumbler full of water and the weight of a pressure cooker!!

For Radhu thatha there were no Monday morning blues… In fact as much as I can remember Monday, on the day he fasted, were the days he was exceptionally active and mobile!! You’ll have to think for a while to name a topic on which he could not converse….and after thinking for all that time you’ll probably not have a topic to name J

There are some experiences we as grandchildren (especially Padma, Raju and I) have had which I’m not sure his grandchildren have had much  eg: Sorting through 50-80 visiting cards and arranging them in alphabetical order, washing only the collar or the sleeve of his shirt, going down to the iron shop (which used to exist then behind the New United House building) and getting his pair of shirt and pant ironed at super fast speed J

There is this book named “Battle hymn of a Tiger Mother” by Amy Chua which is a book that speaks about the way the Chinese bring up their kids with a traditional and strict upbringing.  Radhu Thatha could have definitely done the Indian father version of it. He inspired and motivated his own kids into excelling in the field which they took up. He took great pride in the success of his children and their children as well. I’ll never forget how proud he was when Raju decided to pursue his M.S. in the US and how many times he had asked me if the school where Niharika studies had called me up and and offered me a post as special educator there without actually applying for it… and felt proud about it every time I replied in the affirmative . J He took pride in all his great grandchildren and their talents. He’ll always be with us in our successes and our children’s achievements.

It is heart wrenching to think that I’ll never be able to see, meet him and interact with him and learn something new from him again. A regret which I’ll have in my life would be that I was unable to meet him in the last few months.

Every time I have closed my eyes in this last week and thought about him, I invariably have this scene playing like a recorded tape in my mind.

‘Radhu Thatha spend some time at H3/15 Jalpadma and gets ready to leave. He washes his face, oils and combs his hair, applies powder on his face and tucks his shirt in. He turns around and asks me, “How am I looking?” I answer “You are looking good thatha” “Is this combination of shirt and pant looking good?” “Yes it is”  “How old do you think I am?” (when he would have been about 75) “Around 60 -65 years” And his face would light up and break into a broad smile buoying with confidence and delight !!

That’s the picture of Thatha in my mind… and that’s the way I want to remember him as every time I close my eyes and think of him !

The man who knew where Sitapur was!

Back in Pune during my college, I had 2 roomies, who were a native of Sitapur in Uttar Pradesh (Real place not a fiction). As expected almost everyone I knew, ridiculed it, to the extent that the poor sitapuris were as conscious as a teenager would be with a pimple!

Taatha made his first surprise visit (later many followed) to see me in Pune. There was a pretty big crowd in my apartment as was customary for most evenings prior to a party. Either Taatha did not see anything that he was not supposed to or did not simply make a big deal of it. As the introductions followed, my roomies sheepishly introduced their native town as “U.P.”. The bullies in the room got the chance they always look for and SITAPUR once again became the laughing stock of the crowd. Unaffected by the giggles, Taatha began speaking as a matter of fact about Sitapur; Its location & surrounding towns; Railway lines that pass through Sitapur, & how despite being so close, the best train from Bombay to get to Lucknow was Pushpak Express, however Gorakhpur Exp was more covenient for Sitapur due to its time of arrival; Next listed was Sitapur’s famous hospital and the name of the politician who inaugurated it and how they have the best technology for cataract operation.

Needless to say every student in that room was spellbound, the Sitapuris were vindicated and I was beaming with pride. He went on to speak with mechanical engineers about machine design and drawing and computer engineers about how much he would love to learn computers! Every person in that room remembered the encounter at least for the next 4 years! 

My earliest memory of Radhu Tatha is of peeping meekly from behind the living room curtains, at a towering figure eating dinner alone, with his eyes set on a newspaper and ears set on a television.  At some point that I don’t remember, we began to co-exist in the same room and he began talking to me! We have come a long way since then and I wish sincerely to share it here in the time ahead.

Today, two weeks prior to his 90th birth day,  Radhu Tatha passed away peacefully in sleep. Concluding a proud life, he deservingly lived without any regret.