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He lay prostrate at my parent’s feet completely catching them unaware. They did not expect their daughter’s Professor paying them respect like this. It is always the other way round in our country where Guru is considered Brahma .They had not witnessed such humility from someone of his stature. His better half followed suit with a smiling face while handing them the traditional blouse piece , coconut and kumkum for the lady . My North Indian parents stood shell shocked as he went on to explain how “Athithi “ (guest) in his customs was equivalent to God’s visit thus honoring the host. All the people in the room were aware of the concept except that to be experiencing it first hand especially for my parents was embarrassing. They meekly responded with folded hands in Namaskar position inviting him over to their home at Delhi thousands of miles away. He assured them he would drop in sometime and not to worry about their children. No he wasn’t my local guardian or a mentor he just knew us up, close and personal. It had become so personal that he knew their grief too. The couple had lost their twenty six year old son six months ago and it was their first outing in a sane world where the sun, moon , sea and sky all were in the exact same place except that the earth beneath their feet had been shaky and they seemed to have lost their ground.
They had come only on insistence of their daughter who could not visit them as there was no leave to avail. Still shaken in their souls the entire family was still processing their grief and unexpressed pain which only the sensitive could perceive. Professor B.V. Venkatraman was that sensitive soul. He did not ask why they had returned sullen from a wedding function the previous night ! On enquiry their daughter confirmed that perhaps the wedding of a young couple in which they were to partake had rekindled the pain of an occasion which they would never witness in their life, their own son’s marriage. Just six months ago they were enthusiastically looking for a suitable match for him .The unrealized dream in their dry eyes continued to poke , moisten and got washed off as tears and they left the venue to retire early .
The professor understood and in his attempt to make them feel better insisted that they join his wife in a short trip to Pondicherry where his son studied. Christmas gave everyone few days liberty from work , besides it was their daughter’s first anniversary . They all needed a distraction to see sun emerge at will from the heart of sea and overpowering waves would help wash some of the misery away. The trip proved extremely healing as the boat rides across the ocean , sitting in the premises of Auroville soaking its peace , walking miles in the scenic city of Pondicherry (Puducherry ) eating meals together , meeting an old friend , indulging in shopping buying handcrafted silk sarees , potpourri and scented candles some of the heaviness got lifted. The young couple got to hold hands on a journey in a low key anniversary which had materialized into marriage a year ago.
The marriage was a low key affair too. The Professor had done the Kanyadaan for their daughter at his residence only because she expressed secretly to him how she would feel forever incomplete unless she had the “ saat pheras” around the fire. She identified with Arya Samaj and idol worship and elaborate rituals were something she did not believe in .
On top of it she was marrying an Anglo-Indian boy a close friend of his son three days later in church and it was impossible for them to organize two different style weddings considering the logistics . Besides the state of Orissa was still hostile and dealing with the repercussions of Graham Staines brutal murder . No one was in a mood to welcome such arrangement and convincing even an Arya Samaj priest would require some special efforts. A week leave in hand would just about allow travel across Cora Mandal coast for a socially stamped church wedding and may be a sandwiched weekend honeymoon for them to be husband and wife. To get a wedding fixed up and agreed upon amongst parents belonging to two different religions ,states and cultures was a task daunting enough and the couple didn’t want last minute arguments of any nature to get their dream in jeopardy. There was enough confusion as it right from the beginning. The Professor had initiated the difficult conversation of a wedding just after their graduation at his place.
It was a well laid plan just that instead of talking marriage he was guiding everyone about the ways to go to Goa while we restlessly roamed around in his kitchen hoping it would to go in the right direction. He broke the ice like a wise man and no one dared to say “No “ to the Professor even if they had reluctance inside. If he had given good marks to the bride to be , she had to be good. Professor knew she was a good student as he had assessed her at her clinical exam and VIVA VOCE examination but he knew her reluctance and aspirations equally well. He was an uncertified emotional expert at behavior , be it human or animal! His vast experience in Pharmacology lab where he conducted drug trials on guinea pigs and rats had blessed him with great observational skills .He sensed discomfort even when it wasn’t evident. He knew effects appear late sometimes days after the drug was injected. Life experiences were similar.
Post duty as she pressed the doorbell on a Sunday morning , the steps leading to his house were all washed with fresh Rangoli and floral garlands adorning the main door and she thought it was some special occasion . The orthodox Telugu-Tamil Brahmin never missed a single occasion of rituals and Pooja in his house. She had seen him more naked with an Angvastram and a Janeu (sacred thread) around his torso with sandalwood paste on his forehead than in his formal attire at classes. He was a God fearing person whose love for the divine was endless and untiring . He was devout to his very core yet he did not force it on anyone. On enquiry about the festivity in air he simply smiled and said come Ma, it’s your wedding today the way you wanted it. It dawned upon her that moment in one big wave that all the conversations she had with him in past were taken rather seriously and understood perfectly. He knew what it meant to her .His wife was equally mysterious as she smiled and instructed her to have a quick bath as the Muhurtum was just two hours away. She anointed her with oil and turmeric presenting her an ironed red saree from her daughter’s cupboard to wear. It was a day of confused overwhelming happy emotions adding to the blush on my cheeks as the most sacred desire got manifested amidst a handful of close friends right in the drawing room of Professor’s house where it all began with a Goa trip where no one was going. The Telugu mantras were not understood by the couple as they had debilitating language problem and they held hands when asked, bent when instructed and did what they were told to while all giggled. As long as love was getting solemnized no further understanding of language was needed for the beauty and intention of love is in sentiments and not in the spoken word. With a borrowed red saree and a Thali given as a gift to the boy to save him from embarrassment of not knowing its importance in a Hindu wedding they were married in the drawing room of D12, staff quarters , St. John’s campus, Bangalore. The professor and his wife became the official parents and witnessed their son’s batch mates unite in an eternal bond of love .
I have often wondered if he had an “out of control” mode built in him because rarely I had seen him angry. Things and events triggered him but he would regain his composure sooner than all of us. His anger too lacked aggression , was gentle like him delivering the message but no hurt or humiliation. I asked him years later after I finished my second MBBS term , if he ever checked his son’s answer sheets? He replied ,Ma! it won’t be given to me as per the ethical code of conduct yet even if I did I would give him few marks less because he will have to prove his mettle as my son. His son Rajaram made him extremely proud in due time by becoming the first Onco-surgeon in our batch and one of few to have a MCh degree. He was titled Baja instead of Raja and he played the base guitar at our interclass cultural competitions. Like his father he was extremely intelligent , hardworking ,down to earth and adorable to those who knew him well. For others he was off limits. Rajaram spent more time in the hostel studying and we spent more time in his house because we were fed up of hostel life. Uncle’s house was always open for his elite friends and he never questioned me why I returned at odd hours after late night movie shows with his son and slept in his house . He knew that G block closed at eleven sharp. In fact he started putting sheets and blankets in Raja’s room so that we could all sleep well. He had a fair idea about our batch and the ongoing romances among other batches as well since he taught everyone .
He was the eternal cupid who would take it as a personal responsibility that true love acquired its rightful social status . So much so that my sister in law Rosy who was a frequent visitor at uncle’s house after moving to Bangalore had to pass the litmus test with her new boyfriend Dominic who would drop in to visit her and spend time with her on weekends. Uncle questioned everyone’s intentions subtly to assess the seriousness of the connection .Uncle allowed each one to be as they were with no judgements held against anyone . His open mindedness in accepting people from different backgrounds completely defied his origins which one would assume naturally to be orthodox and rigid. His beautiful daughter Gayathri who is a psychiatrist in UK married a South African NRI Doctor who was inducted in the family with equal ease and affection. As long as he knew how to recite Hanuman Chalisa the accent did not matter! Uncle was a friend, mentor , guide to so many of us. Raja and Gayathri’s dad was a true father figure to many of us.
He provided practical solutions for all facing problems in life, listened to people patiently and never gave advice unless asked. Apart from offering his sweet -sour love remedies he saved us from eating beet root vegetables served in the mess which were challenging for our fussy North Indian taste buds still needing more adaptation. Uncle and aunty both used to make excellent coffee and over the years taught us exact proportions of Sunrise Coffee, milk and sugar for it to have the typical flavor of South Indian coffee and all our tiny and big troubles vanished with their coffee as they talked to us. I have had coffee with him in every mood , happy ,sad, angry, depressed , dejected ,elated and cheerful. It always had the same amount of love when served. His humble abode in staff quarters was a home away from home where he and his wife taught us slowly to relish the taste of South Indian delicacies like Idly, Dosa, Sambhar, Akki roti, Puliyogare, lemon rice , Bisi Bele Bath . His simple homemade South Indian spread was an excuse for us to go wishing him at all festive occasions be it Pongal or Ganesha. We did not even wait for him to invite us. While uncle took his own time performing elaborate Poojas we waited hungrily to do the “Pet Pooja” at the end of it all and all retired happily watching cricket for he was a great fan of the game and Tamil serials and movies. We started understanding Tamil while we gave him company and he would do the interpretation for us strictly at break time. We tried in vain to teach him Hindi and create love for Hindi music and movies while he would make fun of them and promise not to go with us for the next one. Uncle visited Delhi as an examiner or on some official work and these occasions were great opportunities for my parents to mingle and extend our hospitality to him .
Did it end with marriage ? No.
As I faced my first loss in my life barely six months into marriage it was uncle who arranged money for my flight tickets to board the flight to Nagpur where my brother lay in coma on a ventilator. Uncle and aunty controlled their emotions while they provided me comfort ,love , bed to sleep , coffee and endless conversations where I lamented or was simple plain moody on my return. He had now moved in his new residence and we all had fun decorating the house and energizing it with our constant presence and laughter .I often dropped in unannounced as I never nursed my pain in the hospital with colleagues and he and his wife have watched me sail through my darkest movements . These were also perhaps the occasions when I was looking for relief and I got to observe his devotion more closely . His beautiful Pooja room had century old familial idols of Ram Durbar whom uncle worshipped like a true devotee. The Gods were adorned with different garments, flowers , offered all food items and there was always a lamp lighted and the aroma of incense sticks was always inviting one to sit there .
The lamps were lit twice a day and all the Gods and Goddesses seemed happy in all seasons and so was uncle. Uncle spent long hours cleaning ,cleansing and decorating even the smallest idols including photographs of his ancestral lineage. He was so satisfied in that practice and did it so joyfully. God was his universal Panacea in the Pharmacology of life where reactions are unpredictable and any day could have an adverse reaction, yet he believed and taught us to remain faithful and devoted. Just observing uncle my own sense of connection with the divine deepened as the light emanating from those lamps helped me to regain composure and balance. There were days when it was extremely suffocating and headaches wouldn’t go away with any analgesics. Medicines can never eliminate pain they can only lessen the physical sensations of what it feels like in the body. What one needs is a different perspective or some joy when one is ready for it . Uncle often brought up the topic of a child to fill up the void in our lives including my parents whom by now he had grown fond off . At that point it seemed like the most irritating suggestion during the course of my PG days but uncle was a wise man. He trusted completely the process of life and how the new replaces the old and how old attachments would fade to hook on to new ones. As his own children moved away in pursuit of career goals uncle too shunted across countries while on his teaching assignments post retirement where he was required to establish Pharmacology departments and teach . He handed us his house keys and trusted me completely to take care of his house and most importantly his idols who were habituated to see lights burning twice a day . This simple ritual brought me so close in experiencing divine blessings as I conceived my first child in his house and stayed there with my husband while Baja came to visit us during holidays in his own house . I think that in that house the boundary of who was an outsider completely dissolved and such unconditional receptivity made us love them all even more.
Uncle prayed hard for me again and provided me all moral support while my husband got AML in 2014 and as I visited his house yet again on the way to Vellore for a brief stopover he looked at my worried face while feeding his youngest grandchild and said Geetu Ma ,don’t worry God is there and he will look after your family and take you through it. His daughter in law reverberated the same spirit in true BVV style while she drove me to and fro to Vellore seeking second opinions from experts and even aiding me financially and visiting us with her husband Rajaram. Rajaram has been instrumental in providing me in all the guidance I seeked from him like a true treasured friend and nothing has changed a bit even if we talk less often . True love , affection and care needs no expression , it is there for one to give and the other to receive.
Uncle blessed me with his visit to my house while I battled a deadly disease but he promised he would come again and establish a worshipping place in my house. Over the years I have let go of what I was brought up as and adopted that divine stays in the heart and not in the rituals or how we choose to connect. It is there in all of us to perceive in ways we are comfortable.
Uncle also offered to give me a hand in my hospital as a manager in OPD. He did not even specify his position but promised he would be there to offer himself whether it was required for him to be a teacher, father, grandfather ,priest, friend or guide. An excellent soft -hearted human being whose simplicity and carefree attitude and acceptance has left an impression at us all whose life he touched . He was an artist who sketched beautifully and his art forms had intricate details of God and for last couple of years he taught this skill to children in cancer wards. May be it was his way of connecting them to the divine power that they would need to hold on to while they battled their physical agonies.
Corona 2020 Pandemic restricted him to abandon his yearly trip to UK to be with his children and grandchildren and for some weird remote reason we reconnected again after a gap of many years .He worried about the worsening situation in UK where both his children were settled . He worried about them but never lost faith. His frequent regular messages to me in the morning included temple drawings, pictures of various God and reminders about festivals provided much needed uplifting of spirit as we all have agonizingly passed this challenging and pressurizing year in different ways. He was far too busy painting his Ganesha on Ganesh Chaturthi when I called him to wish this year and I missed wishing him on his b’day last month in the midst of my own chaotic life . He never mentioned to me once that he had tested positive for the dreadful virus while he was required to be admitted in the hospital as his saturation dropped. In fact the absence of his morning messages should have alerted me yet in our over busy mundane lives we allow sometimes the most precious people to slip away . Sometimes they would not announce that they are about to leave for good. I was so hopeful that my prayers would help him fight like his but I guess his prayers were more powerful than mine by virtue of his devotion.
Uncle breathed his last on 21st of October 2020 choosing an auspicious Navratri day to make his transition . None of us got an opportunity to bid him farewell in the manner he deserved for he exited quietly without any fuss just like he was. He has left behind a beautiful family and grandchildren who will now carry his light and virtues in the world . The entire student community and colleagues whose life he touched in many ways bid him a farewell from their hearts .
He lived his life as an example the way he loved. The story of love is not important , what is important is that one is capable of love – HELEN HAYE
Rose Mary (Melbourne , Australia ) – Amazing memories I hold of him at his place in Bangalore as he welcomed me in his household like a daughter . Apart from his jokes and conversation I used to have with him he helped me improve my culinary skills teaching me many vegetarian recipes . Even simple Vada tasted delicious and his fruit drinks were so refreshing. He took it as a personal agenda to see that I get married to the right guy and guided me lovingly. I feel blessed that he took time to visit me in Australia and did the same things for my sons. They grew so fond of him as he had a way with children. He truly deserves to be called a saint .The world has lost something so precious with him gone ! Non -judgmental , patient and affectionate person with a heart full of love and that’s the way I will remember him always.
Dominic (Melbourne ,Australia ) – Uncle wore a suit when I met him for the first time. He told me some people need to be kept on your head like your parents the other group are to be kept in your heart like your near and dear ones and some people deserve to be kept at your foot.
Dr. Alok Gupta , Lucknow (Batch of 95, SJMC) remembers him as the one who signed his rural bond papers requiring financial guarantee for two lakh rupees which would have costed him his MBBS seat as his own parents were away at the time of his admission and he was a stranger in the city. Raja’s dad signed it without even bothering to ask me who I was and if I would pay. He trusted people completely and was extremely helpful and kind. Blessings can come to you in numerous ways, I did not know who was I to thank more the almighty or the angel that he sent to rescue me .He taught me a big lesson that day ,be good ,do good and good shall always come to you.
Dr. Alex Manoj Mathew ,Singapore (Batch of 93,SJMC) – “Man from Changanacherri” was his nickname for me as he would enquire about my parents whom he had taken the trouble to visit in Kerala. Both of Raja’s parents exuded such warmth at all times that they felt more like my parents. I consider Raja and Gayathri as my siblings and uncle was the one who gave me that right . Cool as ice ,full of humor, loaded with wisdom he always had something to offer. He would intervene and even put his head into the emotional crossfire range to salvage me no matter what I was doing. He would advise when I was wrong and corrected me so gently. It is hard to believe that he is no more and it will take a while to get used to his absence in my life where he will be remembered fondly always. I will miss him dearly.
Dr. Teena Mathew (Batch of 97, SJMC )(New Zealand) : It is impossible for me to believe that he is no more. Even on my worst day sitting across the table in the examination he would smile and make me utter the right things to say. I don’t know how I passed! He was so calm and nonjudgmental by nature despite my wild nature that I was known for . I still have fond memories of his family and the grand wedding of his daughter Dr. Gayathri with Dr.Shaunak at South Africa. I can never forget him for he accepted me unconditionally as his own tribe.
