Pratique ( my son ) pays tribute to Vijay (my brother).I cant better it -so am making public a letter written by him to me .I am not changing a single word or correcting a single spelling.And do remember that he is writing to me -so you will find a lot of it directed towards me .
" On a Friday afternoon on July 3rd 2015, my father told me he was going to Chandigarh to meet Vijoo taaya. He has never forced me to do anything in my life. So as usual he gave me a choice of whether I wanted to come and meet his elder brother. He told me taaya was extremely unwell and it would be nice if I could accompany him – “he is a nice guy. Aa jaao if you can. It is nice to know the elders of the house”. I said yes. To this day I don’t know why. Maybe because I wanted to meet a man who I knew only through pictures and remarkable stories. Maybe because my father, even though had not forced his will on me, had never been more honest about a demand he made of me. Maybe because I was very intrigued about the idea of Vijoo rather than the Man Vijoo. Whatever it was, I don’t care today. I am glad I met him.
So we left for Chandigarh and in a journey spanning over roughly 6 hours, all I heard was “Oh you can’t meet a man as patient as Vijoo” or “oh he is so brilliant” or “listen don’t be loud in front of him – he is not like the rest of us. Very classy – be careful about what you say”. I heard all this and my father’s countless tales of a man he often associated with, not in a manner that can be defined as relationship between brothers but that between a father and a son. So, when the next day we were getting ready, and I was dressed up in my signature jeans with a round neck tea shirt and flip flops, my father looked at me, utterly annoyed and said “don’t you know who you are going to meet?!” – “please wear some decent clothes with a pair of black shoes and make sure they are polished – I always polish my shoes. Vijoo always wears polished shoes too”.
So we left for Chandigarh and in a journey spanning over roughly 6 hours, all I heard was “Oh you can’t meet a man as patient as Vijoo” or “oh he is so brilliant” or “listen don’t be loud in front of him – he is not like the rest of us. Very classy – be careful about what you say”. I heard all this and my father’s countless tales of a man he often associated with, not in a manner that can be defined as relationship between brothers but that between a father and a son. So, when the next day we were getting ready, and I was dressed up in my signature jeans with a round neck tea shirt and flip flops, my father looked at me, utterly annoyed and said “don’t you know who you are going to meet?!” – “please wear some decent clothes with a pair of black shoes and make sure they are polished – I always polish my shoes. Vijoo always wears polished shoes too”.
By this time I was really regretting having said yes to this trip – I was on a holiday to India and I had just come for 2and a half months out of which I had interned for 2 months and in the remainder of this holiday I was being taken to meet a man I was related to, probably just in name. I asked myself, who is this Vijay Kain and why is my father, who is otherwise never so formal, being so careful in approaching his own brother. So well, very reluctantly I did what was asked of me and there we were ready to go. Throughout the journey, between Indu Bhua’s house and taaya’s (about 20 mins or so) I kept asking myself “karna kya hoga?! – touch his feet, shake his hand? – hug him? Nahin nahin cant hug him – we hardly know each other”. So after much deliberation I told myself – “listen just go upto him and say hi sir… wait sir or taaya.. lets say hi taaya – how are you – shake hands and if people around you get too judgmental touch his feet – formality poori kar dena if the situation demands it and chup chaap sit down in the corner of the room closest to the exit”. We reached.
There it was – Vijay Kain (IAS) on the address board with a car number PIH 1. Okay now it was certain – “this guy is a huge shot”. We had been instructed by the others who were in touch with him that he wasn’t fit enough to walk and as such kept lying on the bed for the most part and didn’t talk or eat much. So I entered the house, my taayi was there to receive us. And there he was standing by the drawing room. I was seeing this man after god knows how long. My father met him like a fanboy, my bua was equally delighted to see him. I, in the midst of all this was super confused when he looked at me through the commotion and said “arey Pratique it is soo nice to see you yaar. Thank you for thinking of me and making the effort of coming here”. Nobody had to tell me what to do. I walked to him, touched his feet, hugged him and said Taya how are you feeling. He looks at me and says – much better now. It became very clear why my father and my aunts were in love with this man unconditionally. Where my brother Kunal got his humility and his sensibility from. Where my father got his warmth from. You saw Vijay Kain in everyone. He was an idea. He was an attitude. He was, what you would want to be.
We caught up for hours that day. It is said that wiser of the two men always listen more. So it had to be. He listened to me while I told him everything there was to know about me. I wanted this person to know who I was. I wanted him to remember me. I wanted to make sure he would want to be related to me by more than the just a surname that we shared. He listened intently to what I was doing and what I wanted to do further – “Acha you stay in Halifax – I have been to Halifax. Lovely place. The people are so warm”. “Master of Global Affairs seems very interesting. Have you thought about the UN – maybe you might want to work for them”. We discussed what we liked to eat. I listened too for a change – he told me of his travels. Told me of his love for fish and cricket. Told me of the time when he was just a young civil servant. I can go on and on about my meeting with him and my later interactions with the man, but you knew him better than I did. We finished our dinner that day and we went back home with a promise taaya made to me “once I am fine I shall share a glass of wine with you”. Do come back to meet me if you have the time.
It is human nature to reduce an idea to a man. We are no different and hence we are extremely disturbed about his passing. But shareer, the body, literally translates into something meant to decay. It is but inevitable. Take comfort in the fact that you all are in part a reflection of what he was much like he was very much a reflection of what you are.
As for me, he still owes me that glass of wine. I will have it with my father. I will have it with my buas. I will have it my brothers. And I will end up drunk because let us face it I am just a short little kid who looked at his father on his way back home after meeting his taaya and asked - dad when do we get to meet him again…""
It is human nature to reduce an idea to a man. We are no different and hence we are extremely disturbed about his passing. But shareer, the body, literally translates into something meant to decay. It is but inevitable. Take comfort in the fact that you all are in part a reflection of what he was much like he was very much a reflection of what you are.
As for me, he still owes me that glass of wine. I will have it with my father. I will have it with my buas. I will have it my brothers. And I will end up drunk because let us face it I am just a short little kid who looked at his father on his way back home after meeting his taaya and asked - dad when do we get to meet him again…""
How the Heart speaks for a Noble Soul.
ReplyDeleteTale of a six hours journey and the magic of bonding n insights it has brought about…
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