Remembering grandpa

People remember 5^th 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.