These are the humble
tributes of a younger brother to
who as a young boy I
used to look upon with awe and respect,
who used to say things
which I seldom understood,
who disappointed me by
saying it is improper to again seek permission to go for a movie,
which my
father had earlier disallowed,
who did not dry his
body after taking bath,
who used to laugh it
away when asked about that,
who started smoking
while studying in college,
who used to say that
cigarette has more ‘kick’ than beedi,
who used to steal
cashewnuts from an estate, exchange it at a small shop at the rate of three pea
nuts for each cashew nut and then presented those to me, when we used to go to
river to take bath,
who once lied to me
that the postman had to search a lot in search of Narayanan Chettiar, when I
had addressed a letter to Narayanan Chettan,
who lovingly advised
me not to use words such as chettan, chechi, and so on in address,
who was crazy at
reading books,
who made it a practice
to read at least 100 pages every day,
who obtained a post-graduate
degree in English,
who became famous
overnight with the publication of a single story,
who had to go into
hiding for several days because of the riots orchestrated by religious
fundamentalists who sought to find non-existent meanings in a simple story,
who never wrote
stories thereafter because of the remorse he felt for those who were killed
during the riots,
who was responsible
for my shifting to Delhi and building up my life here,
who was my partner in
my first-ever train journey,
who bought slippers for
me who had never worn a pair earlier,
who taught me that in
Delhi slippers are almost like parts of one’s body,
who used to visit me
at each station, since we were in separate bogies which were not
inter-connected,
who used to assure me every
time we met not to worry and he was in the next coach,
who patted on my back saying
not to worry and many more journeys are yet to be undertaken, when my eyes were
filled with tears at the thought of leaving my co-passengers
who were like family
for three days,
who was with me at
every step of my life in Delhi,
who taught me about
Delhi and the life here,
who lent me his
sweaters when I didn’t have one of my own,
who taught me to say ‘Hindi patha nahin’ or ‘Hindi
maloom nahin’
if anyone talked to me in Hindi,
who taught me how to
travel from Greater Kailash to Karol Bagh, in my initial days in Delhi,
who laughed and
laughed aloud when I said I had sent an application for membership of Delhi
Malayalee Association,
who ridiculed me
telling that this would probably be for the first time that they would have
received such an application,
who shut my mouth
asking, ‘Didn’t I tell you?’, when Delhi Malayalee Association didn’t care to respond,
who made me consume
egg curry as a prank, and owned up the mistake when I was down with a seriously
upset stomach,
who used to play cards
throughout the night with us,
who proved with his own
experience that obtaining 100 per cent marks in competitive examinations is
possible,
who made his cousin his
life partner, against the then prevailing customs,
who chose to attend
the intra-state marriage of a friend, conducted without the couple’s parents’
permission, when the marriage of two of his closest friends were fixed on the
same day,
who lost the
friendship of the other friend for ever because he could not attend his
marriage,
who declared with his own
life that there was nothing wrong in smoking and drinking,
who proclaimed that
life is to be enjoyed when young, subdued later, and enslaved in old age,
who always enjoyed
telling inspiring stories of great men and from epics,
who constantly sought
the meaning of life,
who always liked to
share the philosophy of life with anybody who cared to listen,
who was well aware of
the perishability of life,
who used to enjoy reading
epics for hours on end,
who trained his belly
not to become hungry while he had been reading,
who did not want to
make a show of his knowledge and devotion,
who applied sacred ash
on the foreheads of all those present, after daily poojas,
who conducted Bhagavata saptaha when his daughter and
later daughter-in-law were carrying, to tell the story of Lord Krishna to the
unborn child,
who spent several
hours listening to religious talks of Nochur Venkata Raman,
who encouraged and
helped me acquire a flat in Noida,
who always kept
toffees in his pocket and distributed those mixed with his attractive smile to whoever
happened to meet him,
who constantly sought
opportunities to help his relatives and friends,
who brought several
relatives to Delhi and helped build their lives,
who initiated
get-togethers of relatives scattered all over the National Capital Region and successfully
conducted them for several years,
who did not like to do
things that he didn’t want only to prolong his life,
who gracefully
accepted and welcomed the illness when it was confirmed that he had the deadly cancer,
who prepared himself
to accept death like a great philosopher,
who initially refused
to undergo treatment which would only prolong his life slightly,
who later surrendered
to the loving persuasion of his near and dear ones,
who, yet, succumbed to
God’s decision wholeheartedly,
who left for his heavenly
abode on 12 April 2015,
who left creating a
huge chasm in our lives which it seems impossible to fill up.
[2] Another word for elder brother
[6] Reading of the sacred Bhagavatha
in seven days and explaining the stories.
