My grandparents on my father’s side were teachers. My grandfather was a teacher. Both women he married were teachers. I never met my father’s mother, she died eight years before I was born, but my grandfather and my second grandmother lived to see my wedding. It will always be the lasting relief of my life that they saw my wedding. They had expressed the desire often. And it was a close run thing. They both died within a couple of month of my wedding last year. On days when I am a Karmic Hindu, I feel as if they were waiting to see me married.
I had been meaning to write my obituary to them for some time now and September 7th, which happens to be the death anniversary of my grandfather, was the deadline I had set myself. With time, one forgets many things. Even more quickly than incidents, emotions fade away. In the rush of life, we may file away several emotions for future, never to go back to them again. More urgent matters of action keep taking precedence until the emotion can no longer be reasonably recalled. I didn’t want that to happen. And this morning, on my way to office, when I heard on the radio that it was Teacher’s day, I knew I had to write it today. I mean, they were teachers.
Records show that my grandfather was born in 1929. He himself believed that he was born in 1927- they were not very particular about the dates back in the day. His father was a sub inspector in the police who married three times and had 9 children; all but the first girl were from his third wife. My grandfather was the 7th child. His oldest brother was 20 years older than him and their eldest sister was older still. My great grandfather did not survive into my grandfather’s adulthood and my grandfather was brought up partly by my strong willed great grandmother and partly by his second eldest brother. He never said so himself, for he was an immensely proud man, very proud about our family history but I sensed that there were some financial difficulties in his school and college years. Nothing drastic, for the family was from the landowning class, but cash was difficult to come by.
My grandfather was in class eighth when Quit India movement happened. He was listening to a public meeting in Patna when the police opened fire and a fellow student near him was shot in the leg. I remember him telling me how High school education in state schools (there were none other) was entirely in English. I also remember him saying how wearing shoes wasn’t considered manly and yet was compulsory at school. The dilemma was resolved by carrying the shoes and putting them on just before entering school. He was a B.Sc student of Mathematics and newly married when India gained Independence. Shortly after, my father, the eldest child was born. There were to be three more children.
In 1951, he started teaching Mathematics at Bhagalpur university and stayed at the same college for the next 40 years. He was very good teacher; my uncle tells me that people from other colleges also came to attend his classes. A more objective assessment of his worth was the large number of students who came to his tuitions at home. He also published a course book for Inter Mathematics but it was only moderately successful. My memories of my grandfather start from the late Eighties. We had moved to Bhagalpur and were staying with him. Though he never taught me, by the time I reached college, his faculties were declining but I had seen him teach. He did not need books, he taught from memory, as did my grandmother, as did all the best teachers I know.
He was a silent, important man, Head of the department at the college. He was also a very dominating man and didn’t take disagreement lightly. But he was very well read and well informed. He would read widely and his choice was quite academic. As a bi-product, I grew up reading Science Reporter, a monthly popular science magazine, which I found is still published, to my amazement.
In 1991 he retired. Those evenings in the early and mid-nineties, after he had retired, when I hung around while his friends and others came to visit and talk were an immense education: on India, on India’s post-independence history, on our politics, on law, on agriculture and crops, on international history. I believe I have always had greater general awareness than a lot of other people because of the head start I got in those days. He was my own personal Wikipedia, much before time. Another thing about him, his mastery of the written English language was formidable. I never found out a word whose meaning he didn’t know. He started a kitchen garden where I grew everything with my own hands: potato and tomato and onions and brinjals and ladyfinger and radish and carrot and many other vegetables.
My grandfather could be quite partisan. Like a lot of other teachers I have known, he loved achievers and his regard for his own children and also grandchildren was also in proportion to their achievement. He would help everybody but he would love and regard only the achievers. I could only win his regard once he felt I had achieved something, after my board results, after JEE, and after IIM. The only exception to this rule, which I know of, was my brother who was the apple of his aging eyes.
In 1998, I moved away for plus two and then college. He began to age rapidly, his health started failing. A botched up Hernia operation hastened the decline. His coherence of thought would come and go. He had to stop driving. Then, he had to discontinue his morning walks in the local ground and had to restrict them to our own drive. However, he became more emotionally expressive, before then he was always quite closed. I would like to believe that towards the end he found contentment: his grandchildren did as well as any of his brother’s grandchildren; you must remember he cared a lot about achievement. He saw four of them get married. Death of my grandmother, who died a month before him broke him down but he didn’t suffer for long. I don’t think the end was sorrow less but it wasn’t bitter, he had a full life.
My grandmother had an eventful life. She was born in the later twenties/ early thirties. Nobody knows her real age because in those days age of girl’s was not recorded anywhere, not in schools, not in colleges, not in jobs. Only in post-Independence India, did age of women started getting recorded. She was married at an early age and widowed at an early age. All without formal education I believe. While a widow he educated herself to a bachelor’s degree and became a teacher of Hindi in a girl’s high school. My father’s mother and my second grandmother were related and also taught at the same school. When my father’s mother died, my grandfather married her.
She was the grandmother I knew. The first I remember of her, she was depressed after a dental procedure gone wrong (both my grandparents suffered from simple procedures which were mismanaged, possibly a sign of primitive facilities around my home town). She had been the Principal of the government high school where she taught. When depressed, she went on long leave. There was also a court case when another teacher was appointed Principal while she was on leave but it is boring reading. Gradually she recovered and started teaching at the school again. She loved teaching and was quite popular at her school. My grandfather never taught me but my grandmother did. Hearing her explain Hindi poetry was a joy: she knew and explained the multiple layers of meaning, the background the poem was set in, socio-political landscape of the time and the poet’s own leanings. And she did all this without referring to books and so on. She knew all these poems. They were part of her.
She was a deeply religious lady, vegetarian, given to fasting, prayers and rituals. Also, she was very kind. When her school gave her a citation on her retirement, they fondly remembered how many people she had helped out of monetary difficulty. She also tried to be equal/ fair to her grandchildren. She had no children of her own, but we never felt that we were not related to her by blood. She adopted us as her own, and, she became ours.
Almost to the age of seventy, she was a tall, upright lady. Then she began to hunch over but had no illnesses. The hunch made her susceptible to keeling over and falling. However, as she grew older, she also became more and more beautiful- my mother-in-law who saw her in the last year of her life was struck by her beauty.
Her death was sudden, almost accidental. Our house maid had left the job over some disagreement. In her absence, my grandmother tried to sweep the house (she was reasonably active to her last day) and had a fall. She had had numerous falls and everybody thought it was another one of those. In fact, I spoke to her twelve hours before her death and asked her to eat well, not realizing that I would never speak to her again. I’m glad I spoke to her then. My father had called in the middle of the day and I was irritated when he asked me to talk to her. I remember thinking at the time that I can always give a call back later- I would have never forgiven myself had I done that. She had had a heart attack. Doctor could not diagnose it but she knew. She died on July 29th, early morning. And my grandfather went in another month and ten days.
My grandparents are gone. When they were alive, I had bitter words with them at times. I have always spoken my mind and have also been rash- so there were times when I disagreed and spoke out, often not pleasantly. But it is also true that apart from my brother, among their grandchildren, I lived the longest with them and cared for them. Towards the end I could do a couple of things to show my love. It’s not nearly close to what I wanted but it will have to be enough. My grandfather’s dearest possessions were his house and his old Maruti. The car is sold and his house is getting sold in a few days-the house in which my brother and I grew up. But it’s OK, it’s the cycle of regeneration. After they were gone, the house was unbearable the couple of times I went home. My parents have shifted away to Patna and my ties to my hometown are temporarily cut. I sincerely hope to go back and do something in that town- for I’ll always be Bhagal and if I don’t go back something in me will die.
I had been meaning to write my obituary to them for some time now and September 7th, which happens to be the death anniversary of my grandfather, was the deadline I had set myself. With time, one forgets many things. Even more quickly than incidents, emotions fade away. In the rush of life, we may file away several emotions for future, never to go back to them again. More urgent matters of action keep taking precedence until the emotion can no longer be reasonably recalled. I didn’t want that to happen. And this morning, on my way to office, when I heard on the radio that it was Teacher’s day, I knew I had to write it today. I mean, they were teachers.
Records show that my grandfather was born in 1929. He himself believed that he was born in 1927- they were not very particular about the dates back in the day. His father was a sub inspector in the police who married three times and had 9 children; all but the first girl were from his third wife. My grandfather was the 7th child. His oldest brother was 20 years older than him and their eldest sister was older still. My great grandfather did not survive into my grandfather’s adulthood and my grandfather was brought up partly by my strong willed great grandmother and partly by his second eldest brother. He never said so himself, for he was an immensely proud man, very proud about our family history but I sensed that there were some financial difficulties in his school and college years. Nothing drastic, for the family was from the landowning class, but cash was difficult to come by.
My grandfather was in class eighth when Quit India movement happened. He was listening to a public meeting in Patna when the police opened fire and a fellow student near him was shot in the leg. I remember him telling me how High school education in state schools (there were none other) was entirely in English. I also remember him saying how wearing shoes wasn’t considered manly and yet was compulsory at school. The dilemma was resolved by carrying the shoes and putting them on just before entering school. He was a B.Sc student of Mathematics and newly married when India gained Independence. Shortly after, my father, the eldest child was born. There were to be three more children.
In 1951, he started teaching Mathematics at Bhagalpur university and stayed at the same college for the next 40 years. He was very good teacher; my uncle tells me that people from other colleges also came to attend his classes. A more objective assessment of his worth was the large number of students who came to his tuitions at home. He also published a course book for Inter Mathematics but it was only moderately successful. My memories of my grandfather start from the late Eighties. We had moved to Bhagalpur and were staying with him. Though he never taught me, by the time I reached college, his faculties were declining but I had seen him teach. He did not need books, he taught from memory, as did my grandmother, as did all the best teachers I know.
He was a silent, important man, Head of the department at the college. He was also a very dominating man and didn’t take disagreement lightly. But he was very well read and well informed. He would read widely and his choice was quite academic. As a bi-product, I grew up reading Science Reporter, a monthly popular science magazine, which I found is still published, to my amazement.
In 1991 he retired. Those evenings in the early and mid-nineties, after he had retired, when I hung around while his friends and others came to visit and talk were an immense education: on India, on India’s post-independence history, on our politics, on law, on agriculture and crops, on international history. I believe I have always had greater general awareness than a lot of other people because of the head start I got in those days. He was my own personal Wikipedia, much before time. Another thing about him, his mastery of the written English language was formidable. I never found out a word whose meaning he didn’t know. He started a kitchen garden where I grew everything with my own hands: potato and tomato and onions and brinjals and ladyfinger and radish and carrot and many other vegetables.
My grandfather could be quite partisan. Like a lot of other teachers I have known, he loved achievers and his regard for his own children and also grandchildren was also in proportion to their achievement. He would help everybody but he would love and regard only the achievers. I could only win his regard once he felt I had achieved something, after my board results, after JEE, and after IIM. The only exception to this rule, which I know of, was my brother who was the apple of his aging eyes.
In 1998, I moved away for plus two and then college. He began to age rapidly, his health started failing. A botched up Hernia operation hastened the decline. His coherence of thought would come and go. He had to stop driving. Then, he had to discontinue his morning walks in the local ground and had to restrict them to our own drive. However, he became more emotionally expressive, before then he was always quite closed. I would like to believe that towards the end he found contentment: his grandchildren did as well as any of his brother’s grandchildren; you must remember he cared a lot about achievement. He saw four of them get married. Death of my grandmother, who died a month before him broke him down but he didn’t suffer for long. I don’t think the end was sorrow less but it wasn’t bitter, he had a full life.
My grandmother had an eventful life. She was born in the later twenties/ early thirties. Nobody knows her real age because in those days age of girl’s was not recorded anywhere, not in schools, not in colleges, not in jobs. Only in post-Independence India, did age of women started getting recorded. She was married at an early age and widowed at an early age. All without formal education I believe. While a widow he educated herself to a bachelor’s degree and became a teacher of Hindi in a girl’s high school. My father’s mother and my second grandmother were related and also taught at the same school. When my father’s mother died, my grandfather married her.
She was the grandmother I knew. The first I remember of her, she was depressed after a dental procedure gone wrong (both my grandparents suffered from simple procedures which were mismanaged, possibly a sign of primitive facilities around my home town). She had been the Principal of the government high school where she taught. When depressed, she went on long leave. There was also a court case when another teacher was appointed Principal while she was on leave but it is boring reading. Gradually she recovered and started teaching at the school again. She loved teaching and was quite popular at her school. My grandfather never taught me but my grandmother did. Hearing her explain Hindi poetry was a joy: she knew and explained the multiple layers of meaning, the background the poem was set in, socio-political landscape of the time and the poet’s own leanings. And she did all this without referring to books and so on. She knew all these poems. They were part of her.
She was a deeply religious lady, vegetarian, given to fasting, prayers and rituals. Also, she was very kind. When her school gave her a citation on her retirement, they fondly remembered how many people she had helped out of monetary difficulty. She also tried to be equal/ fair to her grandchildren. She had no children of her own, but we never felt that we were not related to her by blood. She adopted us as her own, and, she became ours.
Almost to the age of seventy, she was a tall, upright lady. Then she began to hunch over but had no illnesses. The hunch made her susceptible to keeling over and falling. However, as she grew older, she also became more and more beautiful- my mother-in-law who saw her in the last year of her life was struck by her beauty.
Her death was sudden, almost accidental. Our house maid had left the job over some disagreement. In her absence, my grandmother tried to sweep the house (she was reasonably active to her last day) and had a fall. She had had numerous falls and everybody thought it was another one of those. In fact, I spoke to her twelve hours before her death and asked her to eat well, not realizing that I would never speak to her again. I’m glad I spoke to her then. My father had called in the middle of the day and I was irritated when he asked me to talk to her. I remember thinking at the time that I can always give a call back later- I would have never forgiven myself had I done that. She had had a heart attack. Doctor could not diagnose it but she knew. She died on July 29th, early morning. And my grandfather went in another month and ten days.
My grandparents are gone. When they were alive, I had bitter words with them at times. I have always spoken my mind and have also been rash- so there were times when I disagreed and spoke out, often not pleasantly. But it is also true that apart from my brother, among their grandchildren, I lived the longest with them and cared for them. Towards the end I could do a couple of things to show my love. It’s not nearly close to what I wanted but it will have to be enough. My grandfather’s dearest possessions were his house and his old Maruti. The car is sold and his house is getting sold in a few days-the house in which my brother and I grew up. But it’s OK, it’s the cycle of regeneration. After they were gone, the house was unbearable the couple of times I went home. My parents have shifted away to Patna and my ties to my hometown are temporarily cut. I sincerely hope to go back and do something in that town- for I’ll always be Bhagal and if I don’t go back something in me will die.
