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.
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Saturday, June 20, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, November 3, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Memories from Roy Choudury
Appa had a way with people and he never allowed traditional relations or cultural differences be a barrier to developing great relationships, in fact he enjoyed being the contrarian in these respects. It was very evident in his relationship with his 'Bengali' sambandhi's. Here is what Ranjit Roy Choudhury has to say about MVP.
"Memories keep the one you loved close to you in spirit and thought and always in your heart. I am sure everyone who knew Dr. Raman including Monju and me will find comfort in remembering each moment spent in his company.
He was a man with vast knowledge and varied interests, yet his quest for knowledge never seemed to end. Even at his age, it was remarkable to see him making a serious effort to learn Bengali and succeeding to some extent. He asked me for a Bengali magazine and to my great surprise within a few days he read out a few lines to me from it. What a remarkable man!
We share our thoughts on various subjects, from cricket to carnatic and hindustani music, comparing the various ragas. He was like my elder brother whom I could ask for any kind of help or advise whenever I needed it most. As long as he was there, we felt so secure.
It is so hard to reconcile to the fact that we will no longer see his ever smiling face. We know that grief and tragedy are only for a time; but his goodness and unconditional love which he showered on us will forever remain in our hearts. We will always be thankful both to him and Lakshmi for making us feel so much a part of their family. "
Ranjit (Roy Choudhury)
"Memories keep the one you loved close to you in spirit and thought and always in your heart. I am sure everyone who knew Dr. Raman including Monju and me will find comfort in remembering each moment spent in his company.
He was a man with vast knowledge and varied interests, yet his quest for knowledge never seemed to end. Even at his age, it was remarkable to see him making a serious effort to learn Bengali and succeeding to some extent. He asked me for a Bengali magazine and to my great surprise within a few days he read out a few lines to me from it. What a remarkable man!
We share our thoughts on various subjects, from cricket to carnatic and hindustani music, comparing the various ragas. He was like my elder brother whom I could ask for any kind of help or advise whenever I needed it most. As long as he was there, we felt so secure.
It is so hard to reconcile to the fact that we will no longer see his ever smiling face. We know that grief and tragedy are only for a time; but his goodness and unconditional love which he showered on us will forever remain in our hearts. We will always be thankful both to him and Lakshmi for making us feel so much a part of their family. "
Ranjit (Roy Choudhury)
(sambandhi)
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