It was a Saturday night, almost a month ago now. We were in Albany, New York, talking to a group of people at a conference. Unbeknownst to me, at the same time, appa was getting reading to leave home for a swim at the Country Club in Begumpet. He was eager to get back to his routine after having been away from his normal routine for two weeks due to the biopsy that he had done on his ankle to figure out what was wrong with it. I don't think anyone including him had the faintest thought that the end was so near. Yet somehow, as things panned out over the next couple of days, he transitioned to the Great Beyond just like he did everything else in life, with a minimum of fuss and with a smile on his face. The pain that he felt in his ankle was real, but not any more real and definitely not greater than the joy he took in filling his day with activities that meant everything to him, not any more real than the disarming smile on his face which seemed to reflect the state of his soul.
I have never known a "younger" old man. He's been that way ever since I could remember and never quite aged as a person. The entity that was my dad, was always greater than the physical person. Maybe that is why, I feel he is still living amongst us. His childlike eagerness to greet each morning with his asanas, the enthusiasm to look forward to the upcoming events and people, his constant interest in knowing more about everything, the concern for his family's well being, the obsessive interest in cricket and chess, the joy of planning a trip for himself and others, the total involvement in his music; they all played a part in keeping him young and forward looking. I think (and know) he believed in living every day, and never wanted the thought of 'The End' to stop him from enjoying his living. Perhaps that is why he was defiant to the very end about giving into the pain he felt in his ankle and knees. He was not going to let even his body dictate the terms of his life. Now looking back, somehow, he has succeeded in living, more than a lot of us who are still 'alive', here and now, thru the apparent end.
I look at the pictures and I sometimes feel the despairing urge to see him in the flesh again, to be next to him, to talk to him, and yet in some strange way, there was a completeness to his life, much like a gentle wave that retracts from the beach having made its long journey across the ocean to the shore, as if its only purpose was to soothe your feet. The wave reached the shore and dissolved back into the ocean, but somehow passed on its essence to you. I suspect that he had much the same effect on people; a quiet and soothing presence. An effect that is felt more only when it is absent.
Talking about my dad is however like saying only half the story. The substance and strength of his convictions came from the immense devotion, love and unconditional support that my mother has always showered on him and also on the rest of the family. His sense of gratitude towards her was equally awesome. I am sure a lot of people have evidenced this phenomenal partnership. For Runa and myself and undoubtedly for a lot of people in our extended family, they have both been a great inspiration and a source of comfort and strength.
If appa's life was his message, then my mom is the very medium that delivered it with high fidelity. Its a message that she will always continue to deliver because it has now become an indistinguishable part of her.
As a son, as their child, what more can I ever ask of my parents than to show me by their own example as to how to live life, and live it so well! I know there are a great many things still to be encountered and experienced in my life, and the comfort of knowning "what would appa do?" only increases my urgency to move headlong into the future.
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