Fortunate are the father and the son both when the chemistry matches between the two. There is nothing more gratifying to a father in last days that the son is on a virtuous path, which he deemed most befitting. He can then die in peace because he is assured that he survives in his son, who is but his own extension.
A vibrant personality: A room upstairs in our duplex apartment in Delhi, still referred as ‘his room’ despite eight years past my father’s Earthly exit, contains neatly bound clippings of inspirational contents, little known truths, and practicable titbits that I hold sacrosanct. He was with us till end after my mother left the world, this was promised by her when alive. When both my parents lived in their own separate flat, I often tried to cajole and persuade them for residing with us. Every time my mom’s response was, “That shall happen for sure, but only after only one of us survives.” That statement turned out predictive!
The other remnants of my father included his clothes, stationery, shaving kit, packs of 555 washing soap and assorted items. I find it unconscionable to part with his leftovers, they exude gravitas, a vibrant, never-say-die spirit, and a sagely wisdom that I can perceive. As I picked the last piece of 555 washing soap that I started using belatedly, I am swayed to a trail of fond remembrances. This often happens when I am in his room. The fatherly bonding rejuvenates me; it shall be insensitive to call it morbidity.
The minimalist mindset: Minimal dependence on inmates and others till his mid-80s, doing almost all his chores himself, was a habit I share with him. When washing his clothes despite a weakened left shoulder, he firmly disallowed anyone to do it. He was a bizarre mix of wit, humour, discipline, generosity, and frugality without compromising quality. Along with routine groceries, I used to procure packs of 555 washing soap from local wholesaler, which he preferred. Comparing it with other detergents, he justified it for not requiring enough water to rinse or remove the lather, and not dissolving quickly with moisture, and equal efficacy in dirt removal.
Emphasis on values and not glamour: Never caring for his own comforts, generous when it came to family or others in need, for communication doing with post card and not inland letters or sealable envelope costing 3 to 5 times higher, he spent over three wintry decades in an overcoat and churidar pyjama. Rather than encouraging all his children to grab a job, he educated them to the highest level on a modest salary.
His stoic, minimalist and philanthropic nature could be assigned to a sensitive hill man, who underwent several travails together with his younger brother in early childhood after having lost both his parents at tender age of five. Deprived of the flamboyance & mirth germane to childhood he grew as mature child.
Search for livelihood after intermediate from a non-descript village in Uttarakhand hills drew him in Delhi to an imposing cousin who knew how to oblige and use others. Soon, he moved out of the cousin’s fold and completed graduation, along with regular government job, from Punjab University’s Camp College, the solitary recognised institution in Delhi offering evening classes in 1950s. Instinctively methodical, his stint with territorial army as signal officer for some years made him a strict disciplinarian. He articulated his views without mincing words in office, society and family. When any local relatives lingered at home after dinner, he would bluntly ask them to depart ASAP or stay overnight.
On visit to close relatives, when the inmates there fervently requested him to stay with them, my father would often seek my advice in private on what to do?
Beneath my father’s stern demeanour, words and actions lay the bedrock of geniality and an unruffled mindset that most in his circle could vouch for. Straws in the wind indicating my son on similar trajectory help me live sans stress and apprehension in the current turbulent era. My father gave me the greatest gift one can: his trust. I believe the tradition shall perpetuate.
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The pre-revised version of this article was published with the title, ‘Fond Fatherly Ethos in Edit page of The Hitavada under ‘Middle Space’ column on 13 June 2025, the Friday.
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Its indeed so rare to come accross memories such as yours. The bond that you shared with your father was so special. Its rare to find people like your dad and even rarer to find sons like you who revered those qualities of your father which today’s generation won’t even realise are precious.