1902

Nineteen o two. The year in which Swami Vivekananda died. The World War I has years to begin.Titanic did not sink yet. The Bolsheviks revolution has a long way to take off. The Chinese did not discover Mao. . The Bengal was not divided by Carzon. Gandhi was still fighting in South Africa. Movies did not begin talking. Horse carts were the popular mode of transport of the rich. The days when women in the industrialised nations were still washing their cloths, and dishes with hands. The last Elizabethan poet T.S.Eliot was still living writing his poems. Then in the port town of Andra Pradesh called Machilipatnam the first son was born to a rich man whose ancestors have reportedly fed the entire town during the tidal waves. It was my father.

My father lost his mother when he was too young or may be while she was in her labour room. His grand mother raised this  pampered  the kid feeding him  Britannia biscuits, Horlicks,  almonds from  Great Britain,  their Indian prototypes haven't   appeared in Indian markets yet. . This handsome young man was  always professed to be the future  High Court Judge by every acquaintance . It was always predicted  that  his  meteoric rise was certain. He was married at the age of twenty to the girl of ten. Even before he was married to my mother he was married to his first love  tennis. Education being the prime objective he finished his graduation at Hindu college and went to Madras for his law. He learned smoking to survive stinky toilets.  But never forgot to play tennis in Madras either. He was an instant hit with tennis lovers there too. He bet Ramanathan (Krishnan's father) "Cambridge Blues " Krishna Swami and RamaSwamy, and was frequently watched by celebrities like Gemini Vasan while playing. After finishing law he  came back and joined the judiciary in his home town , but even his job  did not deter his love for tennis. He continued with his winning streak , laurels pouring in and  markets selling tennis rackets  engraved with his name (No endorsements were in vogue). His  house was filled with silver cups displayed in show cases and he was caught up with  unawares  of stolen  cups  by his servants. He was admired and surrounded by quite a few British officials, Zamindars and rest while prince's of small provinces. He was offered a  royal patronage which he politely rejected.  He remained  a  family man with utter  teetotalism  and unfazed  loyalty to his wife. Those days  the sport was never state sponsored, and he went on playing  the game in different cities and towns paying from his pocket. . Eventually his family  gold began melting and surely returned to him in the form of silver prize cups. He relinquished his share of property to his younger step brothers when requested. Yet he remained a  contended man. After enjoying a  great spell of  victorious journey he retired from tennis  and never touched the bat again. He never tried to cling to the sport in any capacity  and remained at peace with himself . Though his judgements were well preserved and followed verbatim by his successor authorities while delivering judgements,  he did not  materialize his dream of becoming High court judge. He never made big money.  But I never saw him speaking a single word about his past glory. I vaguely remember his home coming in the hazy light of wee hours. I was rubbing my eyes when  he came and cuddled me.  I asked  him with surprise filled joy  "When would  you go back daddy?" he said with a smile "I am not  going  back. They sent me away telling  "You old chap ! Retire from the service and don't forget to take  this walking stick'". I was just 5 years old!! It is never too late to have a child in India.

He took up practice as lawyer and one day  some enthusiastic young lawyer posed him a question " Sir, Won't you feel belittled to practice as a lawyer and bow  to a  junior sitting in the  chair which you held before ?" He said with same like steadiness " The showered respect  was intended to my chair not to me . So I should not take it as my personal issue ". I very well remember that incident. He never liked to take up criminal cases and took up only civil suits. I used to pester him during his office hours to read me a story. He used to do that and one day he told me " If you learn how to read a book you need not depend on any body for your stories". That worked miracles. In a short span of time I learned how to read  great deal of letters and started doing lot of reading.

Whenever my mother wanted to go to a movie with neighbours I preferred to stay at home. It was like a feast for me because I get plenty of time to sit with my dad and discuss lot of things.He discussed lot of things on politics, spirituality,Vedanta, literature and music, movies etc,. I was struggling hard to grow as an adult to receive what I am listening. I was listening with rapt attention inhaling his Berkley cigarette smoke(passive smoking was not invented) I was still young, may be ten. I very well remember my question "How do you believe the existence of God?". Then he asked me " Whose child are you?" I was surprised and said "I am your child" He asked " How do you know it?" It was really challenging question for a ten year old. I said " Ever body is telling me that I am your child" He asked " Do you believe it?" I said "Yes" He said " In the same way you have to believe when some body who experienced divinity  tells you that he had seen God". " May be he is right. Ramakrishna Parama Hamsa did it to Naren. No wonder I grew up very fast to assimilate what I have been receiving.

I liked to watch a glitter in his eyes when I discussed few verses in Gita. I might have done many times only for his sake . I always wanted to watch him feel proud of my achievements.He taught me Yoga and meditation.. I could do every thing except Sirshasan. I accompanied him to many spiritual discourses and classical music concerts.He never chided when I told him that I had been to churches along with my friends. He taught me how to respect mine and tolerate others. He read me his Bhavan's journal, Imprint and Span . I found copy of Koran, Bible in his trunk . . I could see a twinkling tear in his eyes in our dark surroundings when he mentioned about sacrifices made by our freedom fighters and listen him cursing himself for serving British while many national leaders were canned by them. He insisted that I should be courageous like a boy. He left his bungalows when his income started dwindling. He never felt bad for leaving servants. He looked the same in his tailed house as he was in bungalow . He never regretted for not earning enough money. He did not expect his sons to support him. I could never see him cursing his penury.

His command over the English was terrific. His knowledge of English Grammar was unmatched. As I was lazy to look into dictionary he served as my ready reckoner.He loved Saigal songs and he liked Santa Ram's movies. He admired Hindi  heroin Sulochana. He always praised Meena Kumari for her acting abilities. He hated Mohammed Rafi songs.  As the time passed by I saw him decaying, I saw him disoriented. I saw him bed ridden . I saw him dying. In the midst of us there are many extraordinary men who lead ordinary lives. . No one knows about  them except their close confides.

It is already one hundred and seven years this man is born. More than a century. Even if he is not consumed by his disease he would not have lived this long. Strangely I am not left with any of his reminiscences. I do not possess any of his furniture, his books, his things, not even piece of paper with his hand writing. They all disappeared like magic consumed by floods. When I look back it always strikes that  I never had young parents. I had parents who were fit enough to be my grand parents. But for me they served as connecting bridges between old and new worlds. I passed on these bridges and swayed by the winds of the two worlds. Beginning of 1900 doesn't look far away to me. I feel magically  nostalgic about those times.  I lived in those times ...some where..sometime.. may be in my imagination. I remained a person with  memories ..  one generation behind, and  aspirations.. one generation ahead .