Readers,
I have been writing my anecdotes very straight from the heart. Recently my father passed away on February 9th 2010. Here are two tributary write ups written by my cousins. How well knit family we were! The closeness, the love we shared come back to us bringing smiles and tears as well on our face. Person is gone leaving fond memories behind! Emotions, love filled with values still click in the technology dominated era. May be this is what we call –humanity!
Geeta Rao
This is surely a moment where you feel time and spaces are your enemy. Certain things you wish never change and I always wished Kaka will be there forever. I had spoken to him a month or so ago, I felt so good listening to the voice which always brought a smile to you, though he only spoke a few words.
Those summer days in Dharwad, such a wonderful and loving environment that both Kaka and Mavashi created for all of us were golden. Each interaction with Kaka would either leave an explosion of laughter or a positive impression on you, be it his interests in wide variety of subjects or his challenge to you on arguing on different topics. I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of it. I consider myself very lucky that while enjoying one of the best time of my childhood during those summer days, I was also learning quite a bit from him. His child-like curiosity, passion for getting to know things world over, sense of great humor (and self-deprecating) were infectious and benefited not only Geetakka, Papya and Puttya but all of us. There were not many in those days, who would subscribe for Readers Digest and a bunch of other magazines for their children's sake. I would always look forward for his return home from work in the evenings when all of a sudden you would see high spike in energy levels . His familiar "Yenpa, Raghappa, ivattenu madidi?" is still so fresh in my memory. His nudging of us for lazying around in the mornings, not taking bath early, showed his genuine concern in making us better all the time (hogpa, hingella madabardapa, munjane eddu lagoona snana madi, devara mantra heli, amyala chandagi enara thindu,..).
One thing is so deeply etched in me is the memory of some of those mornings, when we would have just gotten up and getting ready to go out to play, Kaka would already have taken his bath (cold well water) and chanting Sri Rayara mantra, "Sri Raghavendraya, Sri Raghavendraya, Sri Raghavendraya pahi prabho..", I still hear it in the background. Right there, that snapshot, is immortal for me, that environment, the positive energy, he and Mavashi created for us, I will never forget and it's simply invaluable.
His self-deprecating humor especially around his challenged hearing and his experience with his Srimathi-avaru around it would leave us all in splits of laughter.
We all pray Sri Rayaru and Srihari to give him the eternal peace. And also a strong will, best of health and spirits to my dear Mavashi.
Thank you all for reading.
Best Regards,
Raghu
February 14th 2010.
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My dear folks,
It is with a solemnly heavy heart that I write today, a today that is devoid of
my dear Ramanna's presence. On 09 February 2011 at a hospital in Dharwad
Ramanna passed away, although not without a fierce struggle.
Ramanna was a gentle soul. He ran his world at his own pace, and it was a
pace with which he was fully at ease. My earliest memories of Ramanna are
from the early-1970's when I would see him during my vacations to
Dharwad. He was always there. His congenial presence cheered up everybody
and his wry humour easily set him apart from the others. The mischievous
twinkle in his eyes could never hide his jocularity. I can remember the day when
I found out that he was Mami Ajji's sister's son, a close relative from both
sides of the family. How wonderful, I remember thinking.
Two things about Ramanna have been emblazoned indelibly in my mind.
One, he was a genuine music lover. A passionate one. During my years of high
school in Dharwad I would meet him almost every day, and almost every time
he would ask me about my music. And I cannot remember of even one instance
that he did not ask me to sing his all-time favourite song, "maano pooja yaha meri,
yashodaa nanda ke laalaa," a bhajan in raaga Mishra Pahadi that I had learnt
from my guru. Such was his passion for music, in general, yes, but for that
superb melody in particular. He was discerning in his musical taste. His library
science teaching responsibilities at the university notwithstanding, he made
time and effort to indulge in his love for music.
Two, he was a kind soul. I remember vividly that one night in December 1982.
Preetu and I were alone at home on a dark, stormy night since everyone else
had gone somewhere (that I cannot recall) while we studied by ourselves.
Then the lights went out. The pouring rain outside, the dark walls inside,
the cold wind pushing through what seemed like porous windows - it was the
stuff made for horror movies. So terrified were we that we simply ran out of the
house and headed straight to Ramanna. Ramanna, our saviour! It was close to
11 PM and he was asleep. We banged on the door loudly and enough times to
wake him up. Sleepily he answered the door, and understanding our trauma,
calmed our rattled nerves. Then he took out two umbrellas and coolly escorted
us back home. What followed is what I remember best: He sat there until everyone
returned. I had fallen asleep by then, but the next morning he narrated the entire
incident to me. He said, "No good deed goes unpunished!" As a gesture of gratitude
he simply demanded that I - yes, you guessed it - sing "maano pooja yaha meri!"
Fast forward nearly three decades. I met him on the 4th of August 2010 during my
one-day visit to Dharwad in particular. He had become old and weak. He barely
recognised me but he knew exactly who had come to see him. Attached to this
message are three photographs of that visit. It was the last time I would see him.
(Fortunately for us, he saw Poonam and Ambhranee in Bangalore in
November 2006 as well during their brief visit then.)
Ramanna was a true gentleman, and knowing he has been an integral part of my
formidable years swells me with great honour and pride. May He give his soul moksha.
- Nachi
California, 11 February 2011
