An ode to my dad “Shashtriji”

                                            

Today, on monsoon-oppressed August’s 31^st morn brightened by balmy sunshine, our kitchen downstairs is unusually abuzz. My better-half, despite her back-injury mandating bedrest, is busy making the choice Pahari dishes for my dad’s ‘shraadh’. The clang and bang as also the mouth-watering aromas trigger nostalgia and send me down the memory lane. The first wave of thought is guilt-laden and soul-singeing: how crass negligence by the slumbering night-duty doctor and apathetic paramedics at the civil hospital caused his avoidable death. Following that mixed, overlapping memories flood the mind. “What was the defining trait of his persona?” I ask myself. Of the many that whelm the mind, two stand out: his irrepressible love for books and immense sense of humour. Thus the tear-and-trauma inflicted by more than a fair share of “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” that struck him, he could drown all in his fathomless well of books/words and his trademark loud resonant belly laughter. Sorrow’s sworn enemy, he had the rare genius to contrive comedy even in grim tragedy to lighten his own heart and of his siblings too.

Born in a sleepy anaemic village, he left its melancholic shores for his ‘Shastri’ at Rawalpindi earning him the moniker “Shashtriji”. Back, he did his BA, B.Ed. from Jalandhar following which began his long innings as a school teacher. Not the one to fit into a stereotypical mould, as headmaster, his genial demeanour and unconventional ways endeared him to the staff and the students alike but galled the stiff-necked bureaucratic-bosses above. No wonder his colleagues considered him ‘Sukh Dev’ not just by name but in deed also!

His company was always joyful resonating with humour and laughs evoked by his recounting of anecdotes, faux pas, jokes – some quite ribald - and comic takes on men and matters. In addition, he would also regale you with a stirring line from poetry, a Sanskrit shloka, book recommendations and quotations from Vedas/Upanishads/Mahabharat/Ramayan, Tagore, Ghalib, Shakespeare, and what have you; or some poignant historical nugget- be it the World Wars, Waterloo or India’s freedom struggle.  He had a rich wealth of all in the inexhaustible vaults of his phenomenal memory to bring out a sparkling gem to suit the occasion or audience, recounted in his own typical Pahari idiom and manner.

His love for books was indeed legendry.  With a preternatural glow flushing his face, the first thing he did on receiving his meagre salary after paying the Lala’s grocery bill, was to place order for books. No month passed when books didn’t arrive intermittently by post. His reading interests were wide ranging. Be it English, Hindi, Sanskrit; literature/biographies, history or fiction, he devoured all with insatiable appetite. When Bengal’s litterateurs cast their spell, he took to learning Bangla to savour their works in the original. An extraordinary polymath, he had an avid interest in current events and even the latest in science and astronomy and remained glued to newspapers and radio BBC. His favourite books/writers?  Jai Shankar Prashad’s ‘Kamayani’, Victor Hugo’s ‘Les Miserables’ and Dicken’s works, besides the Bard of course. I vividly recall how he sat engrossed - a book on his lap - suddenly breaking into a singing voice on hitting some enchanting lines- be it prose or poetry. Another distinguishing feature of his was to scrawl quotations in a diary and inside the book covers.

But like us all he was human with frailties galore. Liberal beyond times and possessed of a ‘malai’-soft heart, kindness the bone and blood of his being, he was a misfit in the materialistic world: vulnerable to deception and exploitation; and too simple and guileless a human to manoeuvre the high ladder of worldly success.

How many persons imbued with such an eclectic mix of talents and erudition have we amidst us in the present humourless, backsliding times?

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