The day when the heavens opened up...

12^th July 2014, around 11:00 AM, Lokhandwala Township, Kandivali East, Mumbai.

A typical July day in Mumbai, incessant rains had inundated the central crossroad of this township in the western suburbs. Inclement weather and the crowded streets leading upto the Kandivali railway station made me rethink on taking out my bike. An autorickshaw, I thought, would be the best option to post my income tax acknowledgment to probably the busiest Post Box of the world - Post Box No. 1, Electronic City Post Office, Bangalore. As I stood watching helplessly, there was no sight of any mode of conveyance. Just as I was about to return home to get my bike, an almost filled up shared-drive autorickshaw turned up. I hopped onto it for the 2 Km ride. As rain water sprayed onto me from all angles, pouring water from heavens and splashing water from the roads stirred up by the passing vehicles, I was soaking in the experience.

Amidst this wonderful experience of petulance, for jostling up for space with two other co-passengers, and thankfulness for the beautiful rains, little did I know that the sky would open up that day and fall upon me in this short journey. As we had crossed about quarter of the total distance and the autorickshaw was manoeuvring through the puddles and potholes giving a swaying experience that would put the joyrides at amusement parks to shame, my phone buzzed. I knew it would be 11:09, time for getting ready for the 11:11 Infiniminute prayer. Immediately the phone rang again. This time it was my brother. I was so precariously placed, I wouldn’t have taken the call if it was anyone else. I picked it up to say him I’ll call you back later. But his sobbing voice was choked, with lots of difficulty he could barely manage to say that “Baba is no more”. The world came crashing down. My world, the entire family’s world revolved around one person, my grandfather, my Baba. For the almost 38 years of my existence till then, he was the most important person. As the autorickshaw surged ahead cutting through the downpour, I was weeping uncontrollably. Looking outside of the autorickshaw, I could see the bystanders looking at me bewildered. The “what-could-have-happened” look in their eyes was all I remember at that moment. Till the rest of the ride involuntary tears were competing with the rain that was hitting my face overwhelming me completely. As the three-wheeler halted to a stop, I realized that I was almost blank for about 10-12 minutes. The intense rain had relented and it downgraded to a drizzle by that time. As I ambled across to the post office which was hosted in a dilapidated building from the Raj era, I realized that I had forgotten to use my umbrella. Drenched, I slowly became aware of my surroundings, of the work that I had embarked upon. Going through the motions, I completed all activities. Reality of what had happened was sinking in. Baba was 97 years old when he passed away. It was not as if it was not known. In fact, he used to remind me, sometimes directly and sometimes indirectly, of this impending occurrence. His longing moist eyes when we parted, brought up the imminent question, will this be the last time we’re meeting? He would then pat me gently 3-4 times on my back saying “cheer up” trying hard to mock a smile. I guess it was more for himself as it would once again make him lonely. His wish to pass on to the other side to meet his family, friends was as strong as his wish to see his children and grandchildren do well. The latter won more often leading to a strong-willed 97 years overcoming a variety of physical and mental obstacles. His love for the family was incomparable and there were 31 of them when he moved on. An ocean of knowledge, in his field and in general as well. The image of Baba that I carry with me in my heart is his genial smile that is etched forever.

His humble beginnings from an obscure village, Bamdeipur, in Jajpur district of Odisha to becoming one of the most respected lawyers have lots of lessons that can be learnt, imbibed and practised for any person who wants to make it big in life. Coming from a brahmin family that mostly depended on farming for a living and struggling to make ends meet. Losing his elder brother and father at a young age, he was brought up due to the hard work put in by his paternal aunt and mother. He excelled in studies and became self-reliant with the scholarships he received from a very young age. As he grew up and did exceedingly well, he got an opportunity to study at Cuttack, the nearest city from Bamdeipur. He studied at the British-staffed Christ Collegiate School at Cuttack. Unable to complete studies till graduation to support the family, he started working in the judicial offices of Cuttack. It was here that my father was born and then he moved on to Dhenkanal to start practising law. He pursued his stunted higher education in his early forties while working. As he worked hard to sharpen his skills, he steadily earned a good name and he was known in the judicial circles not only in Dhenkanal district but also in other districts and had many admirers at the High Court as well. He was an office bearer of the State Bar Council for some time. Today’s senior and respected lawyers of Dhenkanal and many other courts learnt the tricks of trade under him. His humble background and good values kept him grounded and that led the path for him to reach the pinnacle in his field. He is still a revered figure in Dhenkanal. People still come up to my father to convey how great a man he was and how “Dāma babu” or “Saran Sir” touched their lives leading to their transformation as professionals and individuals. His touch was divine. He was the template for success for many lawyers. His other achievement was setting up of the Dhenkanal Law College. His law legacy is carried forward by two of his sons, my uncles and my cousin. He was hopeful I, being the eldest of his grandchildren, would make a career in law but that wouldn’t happen. The melancholy in his smile when he came to know I would be pursuing a career in pharmacy is still fresh in my memory.

My memories of Baba goes back to a time where I was a 5 year old who had just started learning words. He would teach me new words and would recite Sanskrit shlokas. It was too much for a small child but nevertheless I would enjoy his company. He would recite poems from his school days, remembering exactly the way it was taught to him and the name of the teacher as well. He possessed this razor-sharp memory till the last. He could vividly recollect nitty-gritties of what he studies in his 3^rd or 4^th grade. My love for geography, history and knowledge of current affairs in my school days was because of my Baba. He created the interest that helped me so much in my high school.

As per the native calendar, today’s the day; however as per the Gregorian calendar (he was the person who told me what Gregorian calendar is), it was 12^th July 2014 that Damodar Saran, my Baba, left us. I have never felt his absence till date. I’ve always felt him around, smiling at me and telling me to “cheer up” when life is tough. Love you so much Baba…