Something very weird and strange happened today. As I came back from my school and was about to take the elevator, the security guard handed me an envelope marked with my name. What was striking in the envelope was my name and address written manually, since most of the correspondence one receives today is from banks and insurance offices with your name chits posted to it. I glanced through the neatly written letters, very familiar to me, closely. I had got a letter, that too by post and written by none other than my mentor, my grandfather. His handwriting filled me with a sense of nostalgia. The ascent up the elevator was a short flash back of memories spent in my ancestral home.
As I ascended the elevator, what struck me was the sheer simplicity and ingenuity of the man who has seen the world changing around him so fast that his thoughts have stuck in time. There is something amazing about the man who happens to be my friend, philosopher, guide and grandfather. Lovingly called DADDY by all his grand children and students, he is a man of tremendous energy, talent and compassion. His is the generation that has seen the transition from telegrams to e-mails, from the invention of the telephone to the iconic I-phone, from the rickety typewriter to the suave I-pads…… And yet despite this sea of change around him, he still tries to live in the good olden days and keeps the old traditions alive, perfectly aware of the modern means around. He still uses the same old type writer to type letters ignorant of the internet technologies. He still walks an extra mile to go to the post office to buy stamps, postcards and post letters to all his loved ones and friends. Surprisingly, he still waits for seven days for his letter to be delivered and getting a reply, which he seldom gets. What he gets in return is a phone call in reply as things have changed for his forbearers. After all who has the time to complete the daunting task of writing and posting a letter when it can be done within a second through an e-mail?
I still remember the day when I once explained him about the world of internet technologies. There was a sense of disbelief in him about the pace of change. He was full of questions like a 5 year old and could not believe how the written word can travel miles with the least of efforts and time. I had a hard time explaining the procedure to him and was obviously annoyed. But then I remembered how he had taken the stringent pains to teach me the rules of grammar as a kid and felt ashamed.
He was totally amused to see his 6 year old great granddaughter use an I-phone deftly; He got to know of the telephone when he was 25 years old and he could not believe his ears. Once his friend from the Delhi visited him and asked him to come there for a job. He asked him to call him before coming and gave his office telephone number. Daddy walked 5 miles to go to the nearest telephone center. He dialed the number at least 10 times but in vain. Frustrated, when he was about to leave, the man at the counter came and laughed at him and said, “You don’t even know how to operate a telephone!” Daddy felt ashamed. He was first dialing the number on the phone and would then pick the receiver to say a hello. And today his great granddaughter can perfectly operate the most complicated gadget in the world.
Technologically challenged he might be, but he can still give a run for their money to the modern generation. He can walk miles without getting tired. He might be Indian by birth, but he has the etiquettes and mannerisms of a true Englishman. He has an ornate love for the English language due to his English bosses at the news agency where he worked. Initially hired as a mere typist, he went on to write for the leading news papers of the world. He has perfected the language and gets immense pleasure to pass it on to others. I remember how much we used to detest going on holidays because the moment we used to come back, he would ask us write a travelogue.
Teaching is his passion and he has kept it noble. Post retirement, he took a teaching job in my brother’s school. Surprisingly he has never charged a penny and feels that teaching loses its sheen when sold. During the course of his teaching career, he has offered help to hundreds of weak children. He loves to give private classes free of cost which annoys my granny to the hilt. The poor man bears all the grunts and taunts of his wife but the satisfaction which he derives out of the grades his students get, justifies all. After all, in his own words, “The end should justify the means”.
At 87 today, most of his time is spent in the company of his best friends – books & news papers. He is a non-smoker and a teetotaler. He follows a strict vegetarian diet and has not tasted tea or coffee for the last fifty years. Except for his meals, he does all his daily chores by himself, from washing clothes to ironing to buying goods from the market. To all the people known to him, he is a pinnacle of knowledge, love and sacrifice. What more can I say about this man. Words fall short when one gets to talk about daddy.
Sadly, he has reached the stage in his life when he looks an alien to the outer world. Some of the new generation laughs at him for his old ways. He is forlorn and craves for company. He reminds me of the stage of a pantaloon where the world has become too wide for his shrunk shank. In him he has drowned an era, in him he sees a hope for future.
Shakespeare must have him in mind when he wrote, “The elements so mixed in him, that nature one day might stand up and say to all the world. THIS IS A MAN….”
