There are some people who can predict their end and my maternal grandfather, Kadiramangalam KV Nataraja Iyer was one of them. Twenty years ago, while teaching me the basics of astrology, he shared the insights into the planets combination that will take away his breath. He also let me into secrets about my own life and accurately predicted my surgery, while many popular astrologers in the city denied or never saw it coming.
Every
time I informed him of my visit, he would be sitting in the verandah (thinnai) eagerly
awaiting my arrival. He would fill the refrigerator with fruits, while my grandmother
prepared lip smacking snacks. But this time the recliner was empty and I was
welcomed by pin-drop silence. As I entered, I found him lifeless on the floor;
both his thumbs and toe fingers were tied together to prevent rigor mortis. My
cousins told me that he had breathing difficulty post dinner and his end was
very peaceful; I could see that radiating in his face.
He
had enormous wisdom and never required Robin Sharma’s “Who Will Cry When You Die” to guide his life
journey. He
networked with people like a sales guy and used his contacts to help people
find employment, syndicate marriages and help families in distress. Wherever he
visited, he would go around to meet relatives and friends and ensured he
kept the relationship warm and cordial. Whenever there was a death in the
village, he would be the first one to pay his respects. He would comfort the
family and extend physically and material support to them. Many at times,
when orphaned elderly died he would perform their funeral.
His
deeds earned his so much goodwill that within 12 hours after his demise posters
cropped up all over the village condoling his death.The landline kept ringing constantly and people expressed their
sadness and recalled his qualities with gratitude. Those who came to pay
respects be it his relatives, classmates or those benefited from his generosity
fondly recalled his acts of kindness and compared him to Karna in Mahabaratha.
While
the funeral rituals where happening, Panditji asked me for a dhoti to tie
around my grandfather for his final journey. As I rushed to get a new one
from my suitcase I was reminded of the clothes he stitched for me at National
Tailors” at Mayavaram every summer vacation. He also got me my first dhoti and
introduced me to Khadi.
Despite
being a school dropout (discontinued at Grade 6), he opened multiple schools in
neighboring villages and sat on management committees of colleges to
ensure education was fair and free. He had a strong sense of financial
intelligence that learnt through his life experience. He diversified his investments
(gold, financial instruments, property) to manage risks. Every time a grand
child was born, he would open savings schemes that would mature around the time
the child was ready to get into college. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone who
understood the value of money and relationships in life better than him.
I
may have earned multiple degrees from around the world, but the lessons I learnt
from him are precious and continue to guide me in life. He taught me how to
write letters and the art of building relationships when I was young. Long
before I joined MBA, he taught me the time value of money, importance of saving
and introduced me to financial instruments like Kisan Vikas Patra and Insurance
Policies. He also taught me value system, importance of being a custodian of
culture and follower of tradition and how to make personal wealth useful to society
and earn good karma. In short, he was someone with silver in his hair and gold
in his heart.
His healthy lifestyle made him live for 86 years without any major ailments and illness. He rose early and went to bed early living true to the adage, "Early to rise, early to bed makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. He walked 5 miles every day to oversee his paddy fields and filled his diet with lot of fiber and little carbs.
When
I left the village house after his funeral, I conspicuously felt his absence.
Usually, he would pack the boot of the car with vegetables and would walk to
the temple at the end of the street to break a coconut to ensure our journey was
safe. Today, the boot was empty, temple wore a deserted look and grandfather was not at the end of the street. As I drove away, I recollected his life lessons and promised to pick up the mantle from him and carry on his tradition of selflessly giving
and serving people.
Of all the grandchildren, I spent maximum time with him and exposed myself to his wisdom and values. This
eulogy has given me an opportunity to reflect on my years with him, express my gratitude
and share my grief and learning with you.
