People
remember 5th September as Teachers’ day in India. I have another
reason to remember it; it is the birthday of my grandfather. Quite fittingly he
was also a teacher and headmaster during his working days. Had he not lived
with us, probably, I would not have known much about him. My grandfather and
grandmother lived their own life in our ancestral house in a small town called Tenali and I used to live with my parents
and brother in Visakhapatnam, a much
bigger city. Except for a few occasional visits, they never stayed with any of
their eight sons and daughters continuously for more than a month or two. My
grandmother passed away when I was in my high school and it was then that he
came to our house to stay with us. By nature, he was a person with calm-going
attitude and it took him a bit of time to get adjusted to the new environment
and lifestyle in our home. I should say, the best part of time I spent with him
started when I completed my high school and entered into Intermediate education.
He
was a man of indomitable spirit, otherwise, how could a man in his mid-seventies
and with chronic asthma dare to go for a casual-walk for 4 or 5 kilometres
without any support or company. Every now and then he would repeat this
exercise walking from our house to my aunt’s house testing his body limits and
adding to our anxiety. Sometimes he would change his direction, looking for
some unexplored places in and around Visakhapatnam.
When he had an asthma attack, he would sit under a tree puffing his inhaler,
but that would never stop him from exploring the city.
He
was an avid reader and had a huge collection of books. Every day, after his
morning walk, he would start reading the newspaper, top to bottom. Every now
and then, he would read a statement from the newspaper aloud, just to draw my
attention, and soon a discussion would start. Discussions and debates on topics
ranging from Indian politics to spirituality, sports and health to modern
cinema, arts and culture to science were a regular part of our conversation.
His interest in reading did not stop him there. He had a membership in the Visakha Central Library, where he would
regularly borrow books on varied subjects, mainly on classical telugu
literature.
My grandfather was a simple man. He always
wore a dhoti and white shirt, which symbolized with his peacefulness. And he
carried a cloth bag with him where ever he went. In my view, the bag symbolized
his care for environment. We used to
live in a packed apartment complex, which was also home to many pigeons, which
lived on the ventilators of the houses. While some people in the apartment
complex tried to drive those pigeons away for the mess they created with their
droppings, he would buy grains to feed them.
No wonder he had befriended many of the pigeons too.
Almost
five years have passed since he left this world. What he had left behind is his
legacy of simplicity, peacefulness, caring attitude and plenty of pleasant memories.
Today, on this teachers day, when I sit down and think about him , I feel his
life itself is a teaching for me, how to live and more importantly, live with a
purpose.