A requiem for a mango tree

For the better part of two decades it bore fruit
swung a hammock
served shade in generous quantities
while those mangoes, green covering rich yellow
were pickled, pulped,
sliced and pureed
made a salad a bit saucier
and a milk shake smoother.
Yesterday I came home to find sun streaming into a kitchen
that had known a dappled green light
This year's Ugadi pacchadi
won't be made with mangoes
from my tree.

Bookmarks in Time

Its been over 6 and a half years since appa passed on, yet it feels like only yesterday that he was with us. I was checking the stats on this blog and see that many people still routinely visit it every single month. Gives you a sense of what appa meant to people. There has not been a single new post since 2011, and yet they return. Truly remarkable. Such was his impact. One to definitely aspire towards!

We love you appa. Your time with us with always be bookmarked in our lives. Able to go back to it on-demand. Feels like just yesterday.

-Shekar

The Quintessential Smile

We Love You, Appa!

The World Cup...and Appa must be smiling!

There are some times when a person's absence is more keenly felt than at others. Cricket is one of those things that cannot happen without Appa's memory--and his absent presence--joining us (I won't say "intruding" because it is his memory that makes it complete, in a funny sort of way, so it could never be an intrusion). This was the first ICC World Cup that Appa missed. It's also the first Cup that we watched with him in Vikrampuri. Every time the series was played, since 1999, he has been in the US, with Shekar, and I've heard stories of him getting up at unearthly hours, watching first on a computer hook up and then on a satellite hook up, as technology and global television advanced. He was at one time seriously thinking of going to the event in South Africa but that didn't happen. The years when he was in the US watching the event there, I don't think we missed him as much--if only because we were able to share the experience over email and phone conversations, and of course, follow it up in recaps when he was here watching some other match.

This year we've been at a couple of cricket events where his absence was palpable. The first was on January 15, when Ananya's team played their final game in the South Zone T20 against Karnataka. Amma, Upen and I watched the match race to a nail biting finish, thinking of Appa's reaction to every ball and every run that Karnataka snatched from the team that ultimately won. He would have been cheering louder than any of the parents there, I am sure. The others were of course the last two matches of the World Cup--India vs Pakistan and the Final. He would have intermittently switched off the television and walked out of the room, willing things to happen in India's favour by his actions. And of course there would have been lots of ice cream to celebrate, on both days (maybe jalebis as well on April 2!).

We smile when we think of what he would have said or done, but you can't help feel that tug at the heart ....

Chittappa, Superman and Baap Re Baap thatha

He was cool, stylish and evergreen. Always had a smile and somehow I felt that he had some special corner in his heart reserved for me. I think that is just the way he made many feel. With RayBan glasses, forever smartly dressed, a trait that is not necessarily identified with many in the Mangalam family, and more relatable to the my generation in many ways, that was chittappa.

I vaguely remember the times that we lived in the same house in St. John's road (Secunderabad). I do remember chittappa coming back from London. I distinctly remember coming back from Ethiopia and then finding out that they are moving to Baroda. I was distraught! I remember going to Madras for a wedding and opting to come back to Secunderabad instead of going on a 'Temple trip' with amma & appa because I was getting a chance to ride 1st Class with chittappa & chitti back. I thought he was incredibly cool. He could do no wrong. He was Superman. That is what I called him as he picked me up and swung me around when I was a kid.

A few years ago, on one of their visits to the US, Rushika got to meet and spend some time with chittappa. He was to her as he was to me. A lot of fun. And as most kids are, demanding of more after you give them a little, a tired chittappa would exclaim "Baap Re Baap!". Everytime since I have to refer to him in my conversations to Rushika, she would say, "You mean Baap re Baap thatha?".

I picked up Ravi's voicemail as soon as my plane landed in Seattle informing me that chittappa had passed just an hour ago. I choked briefly, feeling bad that I had missed the opportunity to see him, but something inside me told me that that may have meant another hour of suffering for him.

A couple of years ago when chittappa, krishna, kasturi and myself had driven down to the Godavari river to immerse appa's ashes and chittappa insisted on walking down to the banks and then climbing the stairs back up. You could see the effort he was putting in. It was evident in his loud gasps for air. But such was his love for his brother.

The warmth of this family and its sheer reach have absolutely amazed me. I don't think there are many other's like us, although I would hope there are. The world would certainly be a much better place if that were so. I cannot help but think that its moments such as this that remind us how important it is to keep these ties green and to pass on their strength to the next generation. The support and strength one gets from being with family in times like these are immeasurable and both appa & chittappa have embodied that spirit more than anyone else I know.

I am sure there is welcome party up in the Great Beyond among the Mangalams, not an eagerly awaited one, but timely nevertheless.

A packet of gems and other memories

Life's ironies, I guess you can call them. Exactly a month ago I had written about Rangan Chittappa's and Vijaya Chitti's anniversary. Today I write in Chittappa's memory--it seems too soon to call this a "memory" but that is what happens from one second to the next; a person is a person and a tangible presence, then the person is a memory, still tangible in many ways, but not in most others.

We take our consolations where we get them, and that we must. Chittappa's last few weeks must have been happy. He enjoyed that anniversary party, he must have been very gratified to watch Hrishee's poonal, and then the lovely rolling landscape of Seattle with Ravi, Yamini and his grandchildren. He did not suffer and linger, and his loved ones (many of them) were around him. Those of us who are far away will miss the special sharing of memories and feelings that happens when families are together, but then we have to believe there will be other, happier occasions for those.

This evening when Achala and I walked into the house, she crumpled a packet of Cadbury's Gems and said, "Rangan Chittappa always bought us Gems," and there we smiled at the memory. We've been privileged, as a family, to have had among us so many elders who shared their warmth and affection across generations. How many children these days know their great uncles and aunts as closely as some in our family? Rangan Chittappa and Vijaya Chitti spent a lot of time with my kids, and I remember one summer when appa and amma were in the US they stayed with us for a couple of months, with Chittappa walking them to the bus stop, quizzing them about various things, and of course, giving them chocolate as a reward!

It's a little over two years since appa passed away, and he too was about the same age: 78. With Chittappa's passing, it seems that a part of our childhood is crumbling away, and being replaced by a wall of memories. But if many of those are like the packet of gems, then we can look back and smile, and even if there are tears, see enough happy pictures through them to bring the smiles back.

and the years go by...

Today is my parents' 51st anniversary, and even with appa not here, it is still a day to celebrate, perhaps not with gifts and a party but with a smile and a look backwards in thanks. It's a normal day, which is for us, I suppose, a happy occasion in itself (considering that for so many people the normal day is fraught with so much challenge). Amma made kaju pakodas in the morning and we will attend a dance ballet in the evening, called "Peace on earth". The monsoon is making its hesitant entry into Hyderabad and holds promise of cooler weather in the days to come. Achala and Ananya are taking driving lessons and should soon hold licenses (in the American context, one would say, why this late?) and free me from chauffeuring. Upen is nearing the end of a productive summer vacation; he goes back to work next week. And I continue to be engaged in my various pursuits, juggling several jobs simultaneously and not able to make up mind which one to settle with! Some things never change. But others do, and we cannot but return periodically to that absence which is actually a continuous presence in our minds, if not in our lived lives. So, amma will have to have a double dose of wishes to make up for appa's absence this anniversary!

But last weekend was an exceptionally happy one. Rangan Chittappa and Vijaya Chitti had their 50th wedding anniversary, on June 5. They were in Mumbai having just got their US visa, waiting to leave for Hrishee's poonal. So Krishna and Kasturi organized a party for them that was supposed to be a surprise but as is the case in families like ours, the word got round in a circular fashion and ultimately reached them as well! The evening was a lot of fun, a sort of mini "Mangalams in Hyderabad 100"! All our relatives in Mumbai were there, and a couple (like me, Kumar Periappa and Periamma, and Uma, Meenakshi akka's daughter) who were visiting! Even if the event itself was not a surprise, the range of invitees I think was a pleasant one. Chittappa's close friend Narender was there, as were Chander, Vimala and Latha and their families, Ramu mama and Vasudha manni, and Sharada Periamma's family--Geetha/Shankar, Latha/Vasu and Sakku athai. There was of course plenty of reminiscing and laughter, as well as a bit of quiet nostalgia.

Not to speak of the food! A big dinner and three large chocolate cakes, to celebrate not one but three occasions--the anniversary, Supriya's birthday and Kumar Periappa's birthday (coming up in 3 days)!

The summer of 1973

Sometimes it seems like the year is full of days dedicated to memory. And this is not necessarily a sad thing, because memory is like a soft scent that can make you smile inwardly and take you back on a trip in some parallel realm of experience, where the past and present mingle. Since this space is in a sense one of memory, I thought I should share this realm of experience with those of you who might remember the moments in and around a photograph that comes back to me often. I found it this morning--a small black and white print. Somehow, in my mind, the colours were bright blue, green and orange, and I remember the colours of all the clothes we were wearing. These blurred images are just an echo of what I remember!

It was a time when the family was together (I was going to say "whole" but then, wholeness is always there, it's just that its contours change with time). On my mother's side, all of us cousins were together...except the very eldest, Mohan, who was in the US (the only one there at the time) and the two youngest, Ashok and Anitha, were not yet born. In the photograph, several of us are up on the spreading branches of this lovely gulmohur tree, in Cubbon Park, I think, with the littlest ones held up on the lowest branches and the girls in saris are gracefully draped alongside the trunk. Koushik did not deign to come with us on such a frivolous jaunt as a trip to the park (he was the intellectual, you see) and Anand and Paddu Chitti arrived a bit later, if I remember correctly. We were all in Bangalore for the housewarming of Payya mama's new home on Promenade Road. It was a summer filled with movies, with card games, and laughter, and the monkeyish antics of the younger cousins--Koushik and Jee sliding down the trunk of the mulberry tree from the first floor of the house on Osborne Road and giving Kanthiamma the jitters, Shyam playing Beatles' songs on his tape recorder, Rajee and Geetha trying hard to make peace, Jayashree crying at the drop of a hat, Ramesh and Shekhar quietly slitting the seat cover of Payya mama's motorbike, Sudha and me getting into our famous fights...

We've lost several of those who were with us that year, and other connections have become tenuous and irregular, but when I travel back to the time captured in that picture, I experience a familiar warmth and realise that the space where affection resides is undiminished, to be tapped into whenever opportunity presents itself in meetings, however far apart they may be.

So to those of you whom I do not tap on the virtual shoulder to say hello now and then, please remember that there is a space where I remember, and think of you, wonder how you are, or know that you are well, and smile at the memories we have shared.

Remembering

I'm having a book reading, my first ever, and I am thinking...if only appa were here. But I will be reading some poetry and here is one I just wrote, especially for him.

Remembering

Despite the many frowns
and reprimands
through stormy teenage years
what stays with me
is the smile
tht always reached your eyes
and sometimes began there,
as you watched me
and heard me
arguing with the earnestness of youth
putting my heart and soul
into imaginary revolutions.
You knew then
as you probably knew now
that the real battles
in mind and body
get fought and won
despite our best intentions
and most earnest arguments
not because of them.
It’s your smile
that stays with me
when I drive past
the short stretch
of pavement
where you took your last walk;
and it’s your smile
that walks with me
as I take my evening turns
on a terrace
that no longer hears
the uneven tread
of your blue-slippered feet.

A Whole New Year

A whole entire year, yes! an entire year, the first full one without appa. It has passed. As I sit here at my computer and type away this words, appa looks back at me thru a picture frame on my desk. The picture was taken in Galveston, TX. What makes this picture unique is the twinkle you can see in appa's eyes, almost as if to say, I am not going anywhere. It has a very comforting and cheering appeal.

Its been a wonderful year in many ways, and I know appa would have loved to have seen this one as well. The summer was the highlight of the entire year. To have Usha, the kids and amma, all together was absolutely incredible. Appa would have completed that picture so perfectly. There were so many memories that were created, so many that he would have loved to be a part of.

Everytime I look at that picture of my desk, it reminds me that I (I really mean all of us!) too should live with the same spirit.
- Enjoy company,
- quietly enjoy the silent moments,
- Cherish relationsips,
- love your family with utter devotion,
- create memories,
- give selflessly,
- experience the world,
- take delight in little things,
- lose yourself in the things you love,
- sing without inhibition,
- cheer fanatically,
- care unconditionally,
- enjoy simplicity,
- travel fearlessly,
- laugh heartily,
- argue with a passion,
- eat heartily,
- honor God humbly

Wish you all a Happy New Year, and as is customary for me to do every new year, Happy Birthday Appa.

goodbye little blue car

a couple of days ago we sold appa's car, the maruti 800 (his second 800, the first one an even older model that had been handed down from paddu chitti to me to him). it was bought by achala and ananya's karate sensei, Sridhar, who has been a frequent visitor to the house and so has seen appa driving the car. he was happy to have it, and we were happy that someone we knew and trusted would drive it.

but when the moment of transfer arrived and sridhar came and picked up the car, i found myself all tied up in knots. it seemed like we were saying a final goodbye to something that was so closely connected to appa's memory. he had driven that car for nearly four years before he died, it had ferried a number of visitors to and from the station and airport with him at the wheel, it had been driven with my daughters to the bus stop and to school and cricket ground, it had seen several close shaves when he was angry and upset with mindless drivers, and it had taken him to the country club that last morning in april 2008. but of course most of the memories were good ones, and i sincerely hope sridhar and his family also have many good memories in that car.

appa had promised to teach the girls driving in that car, and i had hoped to not sell it until they had learned at its wheel. but a whole year went by and driving lessons didn't seem like they were going to happen, so it seemed the best thing to do.

appa had a great relationship with cars. he loved to drive, and i remember him bringing home vanaja iyengar's old standard or sankar anna's austin and giving us a weekend treat of a drive somewhere. when he got his own first car--a maruti van, circa 1988--it was a huge source of pleasure and pride. he used every excuse to take the car out, to the station to pick up people at 4 30 a.m., to pochampalli to buy sarees straight from the loom, to monda market to buy vegetables on the most crowded days possible... to be at the wheel of his own car was something that he never quite lost the joy of feeling.

but it was hard to say goodbye to it, even though i know the memories are in my head and not in the car, it just felt like a part of me was being driven away that night.

Another April, another 21st

Getting together to remember appa...while there was emotion and regret and sadness, the overwhelming feeling was one of togetherness, and gratitude that we are a family that feels together.

When I woke up in the morning, the first thought to strike was...if he were here. And the other thoughts followed in quick succession, and this is what I wrote--

When I turn on the radio
and listen to Shruti on WorldSpace,
Or Ananya asks if I will drop her
at cricket practice;
Or I hear the swish of the garden hose
and the echo of a "good morning"
as Subramaniam the watchman opens the gate;
Or Dhoni scores a six
and bad fielding upsets a game;
Or when I butter my toast in the morning;
Or pick up the paper
and look at the Sudoku squares;
and at old cassettes on the book rack;
When we go to Utsav
and bring back five toothpicks...
If he's here at all these moments
that make up my days--
then why do I worry?
He's only a thought away.

watching the women's world cup

it's been a while since the last post, and i suppose we have all come to terms in a way with absence, living our lives the way they need to be led, pausing occasionally to allow space for that memory that nudges us and makes us feel regret, happiness, brings a smile or a tear.

ananya and i are sitting here on a lazy sunday morning watching the women's world cup, telecast from australia. if appa had been here she would have been downstairs watching it with him, perhaps, exchanging the odd comment.

if he had been here....

it's a thought difficult to avoid, but surprisingly, it leaves you only with a gentle sort of regret, and not a searing pain. maybe that's because he left as gently as he lived, with minimal pain to all of us who watched him leave. he created a system, a family, that goes on without him, its relationships intact, its network of feelings as strong as ever. all the athais and chittappas are just as strongly connected to us as they were when he was here, and in that sense, he has been a great manager!

now we're looking forward to a reunion of sorts, about a month from now, when we will remember appa and regroup around--not our grief, but our joys of having known and spent time with him.

new year memories

So it's another year. What's so special about January 1, just another day in an endless run? Nothing, really, except that like certain other days in the calendar, it brings back specific sets of memories. It's Appa's birthday, of course, and like Ananya said, any new year celebration at home was a double bill, including wishes for his birthday. And then twelve years ago Sita athai passed away, so the day carried bittersweet memories, of birth, death and everything in between.

The past year especially has seen a lot of losses, a sort of "passing of the old guard"--Appa, Ekanna, Nagaraja periappa, Periya manni, and finally Gurupa. But I suppose in a way when people leave it prompts us to think of them even more than when they are still around. They "settle" into a space in our minds to be recalled whenever we need to feel their presence.

And I'm sure Appa's having a great birthday, wherever he is, with all those who have passed into that other realm with him!

As the year turns...

Amma, Appa, Amamma, Sudha Chitti, Achala and i have just finished watching "Mama Mia!" and wait impatiently for the clock to strike twelve so that we can all say, "Happy New Year" and hit the bed! There doesn't seem to be much enthusiasm in any of our actions, it's just like we're staying up because we have to!
Usually, on new year's eve we (Amma, Appa, Achala and I- and sometimes Amamma) used to stay up watching movies and Thatha would go to sleep. At 12 all of us would go down, wake him up and sing "Happy Birthday"! It was tons of fun! It was like there was something to look forward to... but now, there's NOTHING... But why the sudden change?
A year ago, exactly a year ago, no one would've expected the year 2009 to arrive without the shrieks of "Happy Birthday Thatha/Appa!" Now i sit here wondering how fast things happened. I mean one day i was sitting with Thatha discussing which IPL match we should attend and the next day i was watching the IPL without him.
2008 has really "zoomed" by, and i don't think many of us have had the chance to sit back and think about the things that have happened. I for one have been way too busy with school and cricket to really reflect on the events that have occurred this year. I guess that's the way things were supposed to be- maybe Thatha never really wanted us to reflect on the year gone by?
All things said and done, 2008 has been a pretty good year for me. Apart from the loss of an ardent supporter I have done well- and so has Indian cricket! Thatha would be REALLY proud!

This is to a new beginning-
I hope 2009, doesn't pass as fast as 2008 did! Happy New Year, everyone!

-Ananya

The Thatha Factor

by Ananya

I started off the 2008-09 cricket season on a high, and i owe a lot of this success to, what i call, "The Thatha Factor".

It started off in Warangal- the inter-district tournament- in September. I took a photo of Thatha (and me)- that was taken when we were in the United States- along with me since i call Thatha "my source of inspiration". I put the photo in my kit bag and never took it out. Of course i did take a glimpse of it before every match, but otherwise he always watched me play "through my kit bag"! The tournament went off well, and i was 'crowned' "the best all-rounder".
Next came the under-19 tournament in Anantapur. I was named vice-captain which meant i had a lot of 'responsibility'. Again, I took Thatha along with me. The first two matches (against Kerala and Karnataka) were complete disasters, but we came back strongly in the next three (Tamli Nadu, Goa and Andhra); I scored a half-century, took a few good catches and bowled pretty well.
What's most striking about both these tournaments is the fact that whenever we lost (3 out of 8 matches) Thatha wasn't 'watching me play'... He was sitting in my hotel room, but when he was watching from my kit bag, we always won, and i always managed to do well!
Coincidence?
I strongly believe that it isn't a coincidence... It's what i call "The Thatha Factor". I've always thought of Thatha as 'my source of inspiration'. He was one person who strongly believed that i could "make it big as a cricketer". He saw me play my first match, he saw me score my first run, take my first wicket and my first catch! Maybe he wasn't 'there' through it all, but i knew i could always count on him to be there when it mattered.
I don't confess things very easily... But when i do end up playing for India , i always wanted to give the first ticket (to the match) to Thatha (and the next to Appa). Now, I've decided to give it to Ammamma.
I won't rest until i reach my goal...

This is for you, Thatha- I WILL PLAY FOR INDIA! NO MATTER WHAT IT TAKES!

Time, Life and LifeTimes

I wake up each morning and staring at me from the wall in front of my bed is a 8x10 picture of Appa taken on the Staten Island Ferry on his 2003 trip. He has his familiar smile and his hair completely dishevelled because of the strong breeze cutting across the bay. Appa did not like his hair to be out of place too much except while playing with kids. The breeze though did not care too much for his preferences. I look at that face for a few seconds and then get on with my morning. It serves as a reminder of what is important in my life.

Just like Usha said in her last post, there are so many bottled experiences that one carries. Unfortunately most people carry more unpleasant experiences than pleasant ones around and they keep reacquainting themselves with it. Appa never quite did that. He tried very hard and succeeded most times in having something good to say about most experiences and people. That in of itself is a remarkable trait.

The first few months (I can't believe its been more than six months now!), the picture took me back to those days in April, the early morning phone call, the wait in the Indian Consulate for my passport, my landing at the Hyerabad airport, traveling to the hospital and the events that followed. It was difficult to shift from those images. Soon enough, the scenes changed to nostalgic ones. Remembrances of my childhood, willing myself to pull back from the archives of my memories, days spent in Ethiopia, St. John's Road, the summers in Tarnaka and so many more events that bring back a smile on my face. However in the past few days, that picture has evoked something entirely different feelings in me. Not of the past, but of the future. Of people and things that are important, goals yet to be accomplished, time to spent with the loved ones and memories that are yet to be created.

So many of us are so busy with our lives and the whole world around us seems to be focused on figuring out how to extend life by a few more years. So busy trying to fit more TIME into our LIVES. I think that's where Appa really got it right. He just focused on putting more LIFE into his TIME. That is why he has meant so much to so many. He shared his life with so many, that you can find traces of him with so many people. Truly, he lived multiple lives thru the lives of so many people. As Keats so beautifully said, "A thing of beauty is a joy forever, its loveliness lasts but it will never". Isn't the loveliness more important anyways? Isn't what we give out more important than that which we keep. For by working, we make a living, but by giving, we make a life.

A lot of remembering!

Last Sunday was the 21st--it's a date that seems to come around with alarming frequency...can you believe it, twelve times a year, and five times already in the past five months! Not that the 21st is special. In fact, it is as un-special as a date can get. But those of us who read this blog recall with painful precision what exactly that date means. I know that with time things such as dates and times get fuzzy and events acquire a bottled significance that has nothing to do with markings on a calendar. "Bottled" like perfume, because you can take them out at will and feel everything that was felt at the beginning; and then put away, safely, so that they lurk somewhere in the corner of your mind, safely, while you go on with the business of your day. They can either be like a faint whiff that enters the edge of your consciousness, touching your every activity with a certain unmistakable fragrance, or like an overpowering scent that leaves you reeling.

Last Sunday brought a bit of both. Amma and I went to a memorial meeting held for a dear friend, Janaki Iyer, who passed away two years ago, on September 15. It was a small gathering; about twenty friends who had spent time with her in various ways, almost all associated either directly or indirectly with the small school she ran for girls who would otherwise never have a chance at education, Ananda Bharati. Appa knew Janaki and her husband (Ja and Steve, as their friends know them) and Ja's sister, Kamla, who taught economics at the University and remembered Appa as a colleague of many years. Kamli, as we call her, had not met Amma or me since Appa's passing, though she had spoke to us on the phone. She recalled how, one time when she was just arriving at Science College on the Osmania Campus, as her auto pulled up Appa came to her and said, "There's a bandh and there won't be any classes today--why don't you just take this same auto back; otherwise it's going to be hard to get one." She was really surprised that a senior colleague would take the trouble to come out and tell her that--the general attitude in the department was, "Well. we are all sitting her and can't get out even though there is no work, let her come and suffer as well!" When I told her that he was not an ordinary father, her response was "But he was not an ordinary human being!"

We spent the rest of that meeting reminiscing about Janaki, but for me it seemed a great way to spend a 21st, in the company of good people, who believed in good work, sharing a warmth that such commitment brings.

"Annan oru kovil"

Vijaya Raman, appa's youngest sister, was particularly close to him. She says there are many memories she would like to share but words often fail her. This sums up her feelings...

"In fact my dearest brother can be described as a 'Mahatma' who possessed all extraordinary noble qualities like perseverance, patience, sense of sacrifice, ever smiling and rendering physical, mental and financial help to everyone in need, all who were in the midst of difficulties. He never hesitated to rush in and help immediately.

I still remember the day when our loving father left this world, in 1954. My younger brother was just a year and a half old. The whole responsibility of looking after the family fell on my older brothers, who were only in their early twenties. Pattabhi anna's patience and self sacrifice helped him face all the challenges. Whenever praise was showered on him by me, he used to pass on the credit to his 'ardhangini', my loving manni. Yes, it was only due to their mutual understanding and support that all problems were resolved. He is a role model for me in my own life.

In the real sense, anna occupies an exalted position in the temple of my heart. May his soul rest in peace."

Thoughts of Pattabhi

Mallikarjuna Rao on the occassion of his 80th birthday has this to say about appa


I have just completed 80 years and at this juncture my thoughts go only to Pattabhi. He was meticulously noting dates of birth of all his close relations in his diary and greeting them on the occasion. On this occasion of mine he would have definitely joined us in the house at Bangalore and given us the pleasure of his company. Though there was no celebration in the house for obvious reasons, personally I miss his company. I always considered him as a role model who had all the noble and extraordinary qualities in him. Whether I would stand up to his stature in spite of my advanced age is a difficult question for me to answer. Though I have lost my parents at an early age and other near and dear ones in the family my grief was only short lived where as the agony that I am passing through within myself after Pattabhi’s death is indescribable though outwardly I may not appear tobe so. When such is the case with me, I can well feel the amount of grief and sorrow in sundari’s face whenever she thinks of him .Her grief increases all the more whenever she talks to Pattabhi’s wife Lakshmi at Secunderabad and at that time I realize the great bond Pattabhi has created in his sister. This is rarely found in modern families when people live for themselves.
With heavy heart I could only say that Pattabhi wanted to leave this world when all wanted him to be amidst them. While this may be so, he as a Teacher has not left behind a legacy who could equal him or atleast stand upto him for none can equal or stand upto him.

Dated K Mallikarjuna Rao

2/9/08 Bangalore 54