Lasting impressions of some remarkable lives from close quarters…

As our bus drove into Mannarkkad (which literally means Soil + rivers + forest) across the new bridge over Nellipuzha River, I felt the connection simply because I was born, raised and lived there for so many years. I was returning with my brother Sasi, to help our mother pack up and leave for Kollegal, the place she lived before she got married to my dad. Just some 24 hours had passed, since we attended the funeral @ Mysore of Raja mamma, one of local sons of soil.
Our neighbor @ Mannarkkad, who really is a well meaning lady , told me it may be really sad that my mother has to leave the place she loved and lived for more than 40 years. In her view it was sadder than Raja mama’s death. My mind failed to register the logic. Also I failed to convince her, that it hardly matters, since all of us will be bestowed with the opportunity to leave. Sooner or later.
I myself had left that place mentally, the moment my dear dad was buried, in probably the most scenic and beautiful burial ground in the world, adjoining the river he loved so much. When a local strong arm, tried to take over the tract of land which was owned by the small and dwindling Kannada speaking community, where generations of our ancestors were buried (and may be still sleeping listening to the hoary tunes of Kuntipuzha river), my father fought against him and ensured the place remained with us. Probably he was ensuring that greedy strangers with no values won’t encroach and disturb his very last slumber.
Having crossed so many tragic moments lately, it just seemed odd that this one would make any difference. But still i couldn’t quite put my finger on why it felt different. Maybe only, when someone known to you goes back to Mother Earth as basic elements, we steal some precious moments to step back and think what life means to us and more importantly what matters to us. Then it struck me that it was the people, who live still in my mind long after they are gone from here. It had nothing to do with the environment.
They weren’t many. I could count within my hands… They weren’t famous people in that sense of the word. When some of them died, only near and dear knew, wept and prayed for their souls.. Nevertheless they were really remarkable people, who led remarkable lives.

This is my homage to them..

I am not sure whether all of these impressions in my mind are captured thru my eyes and ears during my time with them. Some of them would have crept into my mind from the legends I have heard about them from others. It makes no difference to me. It should not, for you as well. Nothing is more malleable than reality. Life itself becomes the ultimate creative act, as you realize and become aware, that you are making your world from your own way of applying thoughts.


Let me start with the one whose untimely demise triggered this.
Infinite Grace. That is the way Rajamamma had lived and left this world. If grace is infinite, how could anyone be outside its boundaries? He reckoned, a mentally challenged but physically overgrown son of neighborhood tea stall owner as worthy of his mindshare and friendship in the same manner he had treated his wealthy friends, some of them who had inherited thousands of acres. His door was always open to the near and dear. His contagiously Ready smile and affectionate greeting welcomed us all at any point of time.
Always poised and balanced. I don’t remember seeing him hurried or harried. He put people at ease effortlessly.. And everyone was at ease at his presence... One who always dressed elegantly… Even for the last few months, when he was constrained to a wheel chair, one would not have found him with an unkempt beard, or shabby cloths.
More remarkable was the way he had faced his terminal illness.. He fought such a valiant battle against the crippling illness with such grace… May be he had decided, even when he had insufferable pains, he does not have to be one. Someone who cared for others in the most selfless manner.. Someone who thought about organizing a surprise birthday party to his wife from his wheel chair or trying to take care of my aged uncle who did not have many in his own family to look after him or trying to look for a suitable bridegroom for my sister in law…
He was a mentor par excellence for many in my generation and well wisher for many others. Personally I owe it to him for convincing me to stay back and complete my Engineering @ Hubli, finding me my life partner, teaching me that enjoying an evening drink is not a sin as long as I know my limits..And more importantly having shown fine and gracious way of living in the present for the future. Two incidents that readily comes up in my mind are the way he was quizzing my brother about getting Air-conditioning for the restaurant he was planning to start @ Mysore, while waiting for an appointment for Bypass surgery @ Narayana Hrudayalaya and the way he was looking forward to start card games from his wheel chair. For him the present moment is what really mattered and past was well left way behind where it belonged.
His positivity, generosity, kindness and the Great Spirit will outlive his death.
Neelakanta Doddappa
He was the first cousin of my dad… And probably one of the closest friends of my dad. I grew up on heady tales his brilliance and intellectual prowess.. Someone who could challenge World Bank consultants from Canada on the design of Arch dam @ Idukki.. One who could bring in innovative changes in hydro electric dam designs which could earn him an honorary membership of American Society of civil Engineers.. It is said that one the consultants had forwarded his brilliant ideas and that was good enough to earn him an honorary membership… If he was not afflicted with Parkinson disease at an pretty early age, I think he would have made much more impact in India like an E.M. Sreedharan. .. When I got an admission to Engineering, he presented me with a very old book on Metrics and measurement ( Originally written in German and translated to English) and he said , that is all one needs to know as an Engineer other than basic principles of things work.. It was quite amazing to see him solve problems from Integral calculus when his mind appeared to be free from the clutches of the disease.. Once I remember him telling my dad, that he finds it difficult to remember so many things including faces, except for Mathematics.. Last month when I had met my high school headmaster ( who was a classmate of Neelakanta Doddappa @ Intermediate), he told me if one person who could answer all the questions of a present day engineering entrances, probably it was Neelakantan.. Probably that compliment from a classmate after some 60 odd years says it all. I had lost the book he had presented to me. But one thing I retained was his signature.. I had designed my own signature after the one he had signed on that book. Of course his was more precise, and contoured to perfection like that Arch dam.
Gopalathatha
He was my favorite teacher who showed me the world of Jiddu Krishnamurthy, Frijit Capra and rationalism. My grandmother’s cousin, I had first seen him when he walked into attend his estranged brother’s funeral. I was told he had gone away from home after some misunderstanding and never returned to his home town for a very long time. Immly after he returned, the first thing he started was to open his free tuition centre. And soon my Dad ushered me and brother into his class. And I remained there for a very very long time till his death. A remarkable human being and teacher, who did not allow the tragedies of his own life (he had lost his wife very early and later in his life had to see his young son succumb to Leukemia) to distract or deter from his mission of imparting knowledge to many. One of early recipients of National Teacher Award ( For some reason he had hung his photo with Ms. Indira Gandhi to the corners of inner room ( may be after emergency), but he had proudly displayed the Brass peacock along with a note from one of his students just behind his seat), he stood out for his scholarly knowledge of English language, Literature, philosophy and economics.. Someone who lead his life like a disciplined Zen master’s, with pristine purity like his usual attire of white shirt and dhoti. What stuck to my mind forever, was his stoic expression even at his son’s funeral and his short and bland sentences which often conveyed much more than what he said. I felt he often kept a clinical distance between himself, his emotions and even his pain. My last memory of him was when I visited him at his hospital bed. He was diagnosed with cancer, which had spread throughout his body.. I had taken the small book of Siddhartha to read during my travel to the hospital in Perinthanmanna which was just one hour by road from Mannarkkad. He asked me to read a passage from it and as I was reading the passage about rebirth he stopped me . He told me about how Albert Camu, one of his favorite authors. Albert Camu died in a road accident and the great irony was he hated travelling by road and he had a train ticket to his destination in his pocket when he died. He just said thru his smile, that life is just like that. He was dead and gone within another week and I deliberately avoided attending his funeral. I just wanted to retain my last memory of him as it is.
Another person whom I wanted to write about was my dad, but then I think he has never gone away from me.. The kindest and most generous soul I have ever known was always there for me and I am sure he will be there forever..
I am not sure whether in Heaven they get to read blogs, or for that matter the existence of Heaven itself. I wish them well whole heartedly with immense gratitude.