Appa

Top (L)- Appa with self (2018) and (R) 1983
Bottom (L) - with my first born (2011) and (R)-my second born (2015)

Appa– to me an epitome of love, compassion, perseverance, hardwork, integrity, zest, simplicity. I will run out of words to describe your nature. You left us too early, without a sign for us to be prepared. It is unnerving to think of 17^th Jan 2019. There was never a warning. You only complained of stomach pain. I drove you to the hospital that morning. You held my hand while I was changing the gear and said “Bhayama irukku da (I am scared)”. You were the pillar of our strength always but that was the only moment I saw you being weak. That literally broke my heart. I was equally scared too. Did you probably know there was something happening? I can’t believe those were the last few words you spoke to me. When the test results came the doctor said your potassium levels were high and suggested to get you admitted. Your son in laws drove you to the hospital for admission at 7 pm and that was the last we saw of you. Advay and Avyukt bid you goodbye never expecting that their Thatha will never return. Why did you have to go without giving us a warning? Did we delay hospitalizing you! The guilt kills me everyday.

I am writing this after a year but those moments are fresh in memory and they will never leave me. I don’t know if I have expressed my love enough. But there is no single day when I don’t think of the way you brought me up. The man who lived a minimalistic life but at the same time provided everything for his family. Taught us to be independent, fearless and at the same time cultured and obedient. Discipline and hardwork was your core strength. You made numerous friends who are so fond of you. They still write to me about you.

The best conversation I had with you was when you were having dosa in our house for breakfast (when Amma was traveling). You loved the fluffy dosas I had made. It took you back to your school days. You narrated those incidents that were so vivid in your mind, memories that were more than 70 years old. Those days when you were hardly 9 years old, working in a printing press in Tanjavur, the dosas that the press owner’s wife made for you. The dosas that I made were fluffier than hers, you said. You spoke about how you went to school in the mornings and worked at the press during the evenings, not for money but for one meal that the owner’s wife served you. You spoke about the thinnai (verandah) outside their house where you slept and also practiced mathematics with a chalkpiece. The torn shorts that you wore to school that attracted the attention of your vaadhyar (teacher) who offered to buy you some fabric to get new pants stitched, as there were vayasu penngal (grown up girls) around.

Every important decision I took, be it about my education, career or family, I knew I would feel confident if I spoke to you about it. You knew exactly how to convince me that I have taken the right decision. You stood by me for everything. Be it taking up commerce instead of science, while the whole of my generation was doing Engineering, that I didn’t want to do CA instead did an MBA, you sponsored it and never wanted me to be burdened by a student loan.  When I wanted to marry the man of my choice, you completely believed in my choice. Whom will I go to now? It scares me.

This Sankranti I was remembering the yellu bella you used to get from your office (since we didn’t have the custom of making this at home) as all the lady colleagues used to bring them for you. All your colleagues adored and respected you. The numerous students you trained and taught for departmental exams always talk about your passion for teaching. The curiosity you had for learning something new mesmerizes me. I remember you went for computer classes after your retirement. You were adept at using most of the softwares that were needed to run your business. You could just repair anything at home, be it a radio, water heater, grinder or the fan. You made an indigenous immersion water heater all by yourself which we used for several years until Amma refused to use it and forced you to buy a geyser when we shifted to a new house J

You washed your own clothes and ensured all the whites remained white. You never liked shopping, but if you joined us you would splurge, probably the reason you shopped occasionally. You made us walk everywhere or take the public transport and never owned a car, even if you could afford one. The Lambretta initially and later the Vespa, that made some screaching noise while braking alerted us and we would quickly switch off the TV and sit with our books while you would park the scooter and enter the house, so that we come across as well disciplined children. Of course Amma later told you the truth. You hated us wasting electricity, water and food, and if we did, the stare from you was enough!! You were all praises for your mother’s cooking but we all knew how much you liked Amma’s cooking. She is probably the best thing that happened in your life.

During my school days you always felt happy if I scored better than the boys. You felt proud every time I won a merit prize. If I had to participate in debate/public speaking competition you proof read my script. I still wonder how one who studied in Tamil medium all his life was so perfect in his English Grammar. You read almost every article in the newspaper and never discarded them even if you didn’t have time to read. You would go back to papers that were several weeks old at least to read up the editorial. You were an excellent orator. I remember you even went for Hindi classes before retirement because Hindi was more prevalent in Central Government offices and you didn’t want to be left out. You spoke 5 languages fluently.

You enjoyed watching selective movies. We had to ensure the reviews were really good before daring to book the tickets. But you indeed were a movie buff in college days and also continued well into your married life when you and Amma used to go for night shows. Probably work and larger family size (read-3 children) kept you away from movies for a while. From what I remember you loved “Paasa Malar” (one of your favourite movies) and wept each time you watched it on TV because it always reminded you about your sister. You were a big fan of Hollywood movies, especially movies of Gregory Peck, 007 series of Sean Connery and Roger Moore, The Good the bad the ugly, The ten commandments, and more recently you liked movies of Tom Hanks. I don’t think any movies of our generation impressed you. Your only favourite songs of our generation was “Margazhi poove” from May Maadham and “elangaathu Veesudhe” from Pitha Magan.

You were extremely systematic and organized. Every set of documents had a file neatly arranged in your cupboard. You had all sets of tools and each set in separate boxes neatly labelled. You were so well organized that we found a word document on your desktop titled “things to be done after my death”. Come on. Can someone be so systematic and well prepared for death too? You managed your finances so well that you kept upto your own pledge of never taking a loan. You loaned money to many of your friends and relatives but never borrowed a pie. You left Amma with enough savings. You said we daughters and son in laws kept you happy. You adored your grandchildren. You always said you never regretted anything in life.

Why were you so perfect?