Excerpts from my
yet-to-be-completed book: The Witness –
An autobiography of an ordinary man
..............I
want to introduce four ordinary people known to me and tell you what their life
was all about. I may go a little personal in these pages and this is meant only
as a tribute to these four people, and in no way to be construed as a judgement
of their life.
My paternal uncle
My paternal
uncle died, just missing his 80th birthday by a few days, during
April 1996. I have closely seen him from my high school days. He was married to
a lady who became invalid right from the very first year of marriage. I
understand that some close relatives had advised and cautioned my uncle about
this lady that she could possibly be having some serious health problem.
Soon after their
marriage, this lady’s health condition deteriorated; she started needing extra
help to move around, to lie down, to get up, to toilet and soon, she became
incapacitated below her waist. She was a very charming lady, very soft spoken
and kind. My uncle managed his life with this lady for more than three decades.
He gave her every help, whatever she needed - physically, morally,
psychologically and financially. I had never seen him complaining about his
life. There was total acceptance of his life condition. Despite advice to
re-marry, he refused, countering that if this physical ailment had happened to
him, would the people ever advice the lady to re-marry.
Obviously, my
uncle did not have any child at home. So, every one of us became his child. On
any day, one could always find a number of relative children spending their
time in his house, mostly reading books, magazines, newspapers; my uncle had
spent fortunes in buying books and periodicals for the sake of my aunt, even
with his small income. We all enjoyed carte blanche in his place and the
couple, both, had the unique quality of giving, giving away their valuable
possessions.
After the death
of my aunty, my uncle settled with one of his nephews and spent the rest of his
lifetime with them, more or less. He devoted his last decade or so of his life,
in the development and maintenance work of our family temple. He walked and
travelled to people mobilizing small, small money, for renovating the temple
and building a compound wall around it to protect it from the encroachers.
He involved with
and dedicated himself to the preparation and conducting marriage functions in
several families. He was always there as a friend, philosopher and guide;
always went around places with a bundle of horoscopes; finding alliances for
marriage for eligible boys and girls.
He was a staunch
supporter of Indian National Congress party and happily discussed politics. He
discussed many people’s family issues with them and offered them free
counselling. He would offer compromises for difficult situations. Orthopraxy
was more important to him than orthodoxy.
Eventually, he
died in a hospital, after he accidentally fell inside a bathroom and a few complications
in his health thereafter. To the best of my memory, he never had any health
problem, though he took medicine for his blood pressure in his old days. He had
no restrictions on his diet and he liked spicy food.
He always felt young, freely travelling, roaming around, walking, and talking. He was a good conversationalist too, at his own level. I used to address him “ULAGAM SUTRUM VAALIBHAN,” meaning globe-trotting-youngster.
Was this man’s
life a fulfilling one? I used to wonder many times. It should be. He must have
gone through his life experiencing everything completely. Was he an
extra-ordinary man in today’s context?
My Father-in-law
The second
person, who impacted me, was my father in law, Madurai Yegnam.
He worked as an
ordinary clerk in the Southern Railway at Madurai. With his meagre income, he
stayed along with his wife and three children, in a twelve by twelve portions inside
a compound wall, in a cluster of tenements, for more than two decades. He was
central and pivotal to a large circle of relations and friends. Everyone
visited him whenever they passed by Southern Tamil Nadu, even taking a detour,
at times, to meet him. Any time of the year, one always found some or other
relative or friend spending a couple of days with his family, notwithstanding
his pigeon- hole-like apartment. Not many would have ever given a real, serious
thought how this man, with a small income, could manage his large family and
still entertain so many guests at his home. Madurai Yegnam was important to
them, that was all.
Other than his meagre
salary from the Railways, he had no other income. Only when he retired from his
work, he saw a four-digit income in his life, by way of pension. He enjoyed the
privilege of a railway pass to travel with family all over India as a railway
employee, but he hardly used it other than to travel to Ayikudi, near Tenkasi
to worship his family deity, Lord Muruga.
He smiled all
the time, his smile infectious and highly photogenic. He was friendly with one
and all and everyone adored him. (Incidentally, my wife seemed to have inherited
from him, most of his pleasant temperaments).
Even when he frowned on rare occasions, it will disappear in moments.
He was very
helpful, pious, religiously oriented, accepted his hardships as routine,
maintained an excellent relationship with everyone and no wonder, he was a
person whom everybody in the society liked and wished to deal with.
Though he lived
with his younger son, after retirement, he maintained his financial
independence, for his wants were very limited. He was highly contended, never
had any great expectations from life and obviously, no disappointments and when
he died, he left his small savings to his children. He made no special demands
from life and was always ready to accommodate. He specialized in giving –
giving his warmth, love, affection, pleasant manners, and anything he had.
He took keen
interest in Sanskrit and Hindi language. He had a profound knowledge of Carnatic
music; though could sing well, he rarely exhibited his talents openly- but he always
enjoyed the music.
His wife (my
mother in law) is an embodiment of patience and acceptance. Quite uneducated in
today’s context – can only read Malayalam and Tamil – had never complained
about anything in her life and made no demand from life, like her husband. She
has a total acceptance of her life and continues to work actively in the
kitchen, even in her eighties. Excepting recently, she never complained of
tiredness – she was physically and mentally quite strong, accepted many deaths
of her loved younger ones as quite normal. She never argued on any point,
respecting others’ point of view. She had her own world and all her relatives
adored her, too. She was very simple minded in her approach, never got perturbed
over things, and she continues to live – shall I say, successfully in this
world.
The Elder Brother of my Father-in-law
Coming to the
third person, the elder brother of my father in law, a retired post master,
passed away a few years ago when he was ninety two or so. He had enjoyed the
company of his next third generation children in his family. He had four sons
and a daughter, yet he preferred to live along with his wife separately, away
from his children, enjoying his independence. Everyone visited him regularly
and occasionally, he too went to live with his children. Excepting his one son,
all his other children married persons of their own choice, even trans-language
and he blessed all of them wholeheartedly.
He loved his children, supported all their activities, believed in their capabilities and was always proud of them. He went about independently, taking care of his needs, financially with his small pension and physically, too. Money was never a consideration in his life and he always felt that his life was an example of how one could lead a happy and satisfied life uninfluenced by money.
He had extensive
knowledge of the Vedas, agamas (the rules and regulations of rituals and
worshipping God) and the Puranas (the ancient epics). His wife, though
currently suffers from the usual old age effects, is a great conversationalist,
literally a scholar on many subjects including nuclear science, an authority on
epics and scriptures of ancient India, and
she maintains a high degree of mental alertness. She had brought up almost all
the younger children and grandchildren from their extended family, during her
younger days. Everyone adores her. Despite her bad eye condition, she virtually
sees people, things, and situations through her alert other senses.
When you visit
them in their small village, they treat you like elite, privileged visitors,
with all their love and affection. Past their age seventies, they travelled all
the way to Australia alone, via Singapore, to spend a couple of months with
their youngest son.
Overall, they
remained very supportive of their children and all that they did, regardless of
their being consulted or not on what they do. The children too, reciprocate
their love equally. Both of them, and their children and grandchildren
understood the generation gap, accepted the reality of the situation and never
allowed their different approaches to life to interfere with their relationship
with each other. All they had for their children was pure unconditional love.
In essence, they
were a great couple, truly made for each other. Are they extraordinary?
SRS, the cousin of my father-in-law
It would be an injustice, if I don’t make a mention of SRS, as he is fondly addressed by everyone outside and as ‘Puliyoor Ambi’ by everyone inside the family circle, my father-in-law’s cousin. He worked for the Bombay Electricity Board, lived on a meagre income, in a 10x10 portion of a house in the busy Chembur area in the then Bombay. He had just one son, whom he loved most. He was a personification of someone for whom relationship is everything in life. So, even with his small income, he made it a point to attend every function in his extended family - travelling all the way to the South, mostly – many times, in a cramped, unreserved railway coach.
My first contact
with him was more an encounter; I was angered and irritated by him, when he
forced some dishes on me during lunch, during my marriage celebrations. But he
never took it as an offense. He had travelled all the way to Chandigarh, unmindful
of the severe cold, to attend my son’s first birthday – attending the function
was very important to him. He adored my wife and her brothers. My father-in-law
was addressed as ‘hey, Anna’ by him and the response was always, ‘hey, Ambi.’
Their love for each other was legendary, unspoken and knew no limits. Of
course, he loved others too, the same way.
He gave full freedom to his son regarding his studies, supported him to the hilt. His son too, proved his mettle by coming out with shining colours from the Indian Institute of Science, Bangalore meritoriously and is now a top executive with one of the leading IT companies.
Money, was very rare in the hands of the poor ‘Ambi’ until his son got employed. Ambi loved Ayikudi, his native place in the Tirunelveli District, famous for Lord Muruga and His temple. Ambi jumped at every opportunity to visit Ayikudi, at times, he created the pretext to visit the place, as he loved the company of Lord Muruga.
During the
earlier years, he was closely associated with Chembur Fine Arts Society, Mumbai
and then Amar Seva Sangam, an international organization for the physically
challenged people established and developed by Shri Ramakrishnan, a native of
Ayidudi, who has been leading the major part of his life from a wheelchair.
SRS, the ‘Ambi’
breathed last in the soils of Ayikudi during March, 2014, soon after meeting
all his relatives and well-wishers, numbering a few hundred, during his
Sadabhishekam function, his eightieth year birthday celebrations. He was like a
‘Bhishma pithamaha’, with strong convictions, bonding with people, accommodating
and loving everyone. If he had any complaints in his life, at least he never
openly exhibited them. He was able to forgive people easily and move with them
as though nothing had ever happened.
A couple of
months before he died, he was diagnosed with a life threatening illness,
necessitating blood transfusion, twice. But he was a completely transformed,
rejuvenated man when he landed in Ayikudi for his eightieth year birthday
celebrations, full of energy and enthusiasm, without any symptoms of his
critical illness. He even travelled all the way to Tirunelveli, just a day
before his death. Such was his love for the soil of his birth, Ayikudi. The
heavy turnout of people at the eightieth birthday celebration, that included several
septuagenarians and a few octogenarians walking with the support of a crutch –
was a remarkable tribute to the ever-loving SRS, ‘Ambi’.
What do we call
these people? Ordinary! Successful!
Does one need to
be extraordinary to be successful? After all, what is success? Is it just
material prosperity alone? I continue to wonder.
