Autograph of 62 Years
29.01.2020 around 11.45 AM. The place was my office, the
Transport Commissionerate. I was having a comparatively relaxed day. The police
officer on duty at my office announced that an elderly man has come to visit me
and that he introduced himself as my father’s student. I got excited since I
have the habit of developing an immense liking to anyone who said or says that
he/she knew my father whom I lost when I was sixteen.
I think it would be appropriate to tell you about my father,
late Professor N Velayudhan Nair who expired suddenly of myocardial attack at
the age of 55 on 11.11.1977. A day I, my mother and siblings will never forget.
He had gone with my eldest sister to admit her for MBBS at the Trivandrum Medical
College. What started as a happy and proud day suddenly became dark and bleak
in the evening and continued as such for years after.
Born to a farmer, his mother and elder siblings blamed him
throughout childhood as a person born under dark stars since his father expired
before he turned 1. Struggling throughout his youth, he passed matriculation
with high marks and went to Bombay where his elder brother worked, to search
for a job. He studied typing and shorthand within months from an Institute
there. Massive army recruitment for young people was going on in full swing at
Bombay that time; he attended it for fun and got promptly selected. He was just
15 then. The British were ruling India at that time and freedom struggle was at
its peak. From 1936 to 1948 he served the country under the British rule struggling
for freedom till a year after India’s proud independence. During the end of Second
World War at the Indo-Chinese border he got a bullet injury on his leg and lost
his hearing after falling into a deep trench. Since the injury left him
incapable of continuing the service, he took retirement and returned home.
Thereafter he studied History in BA-honors at Kerala
University and passed the course with first rank. He immediately got job as
lecturer of History at Arts College, Trivandrum. The gold medal he got from the
University was our family’s proudest possession till 2001 when a thief broke
into our ancestral house and stole everything including this medal. In 1952 he
married Radha, the third daughter of Dr. E. K. Raman Pillai, a famous surgeon
who did FRCS from England. I am their third daughter. When I was 10, a son was
born to my parents much to everyone’s delight. My brother was just 5 when achan
passed away.
I remember achan saying often that his greatest assets were
his daughters. He was quite proud of us. Though he wanted my eldest sister
Geetha, who is still the brightest and most studious in the family to write
Civil Services Examinations, he consented to her wish to become a doctor like
her maternal grandfather. Achan worked a long time in Colleges outside
Trivandrum and came home only once in a while. After I passed 10th
(SSLC) barely missing first class, I applied for pre-degree at Women’s College
for third group and joined the third group since my ambition at that time was
to become a professor like achan. Knowing about it, he came from Edappal where
he was working then and forcefully changed me to second (Science) group telling
me that I should become a doctor! In the astrological chart drawn up when I was
born, it was prophesied that I would become a reputed physician in future! I
was doing my miserable second year of science pre-degree when father expired. My
two elder sisters and brother became doctors. Though I had taken a vow at my
father’s funeral to study well and become a doctor like he wished, my marks
were abysmal enough for MBBS (there were no entrance exams then) that I happily
joined for BA English to pursue my childhood dream. I thought achan would be as
happy to see me as a lecturer too!
So, back to the main story. Mr. G. Shivasubramnia Sharma, the
elderly person who sat in front of me was all smiles and seemed excited. “Velayudhan
Nair sir taught world history when I was in Arts College doing pre-university
studies. He was such an amazing teacher that history became one of our most
favourite subjects. I used to sit in the front bench and listen keenly to the
classes which he would teach like stories. It was like watching films or
dramas. He would draw us into historic events like French Revolution and World
War and create role plays for the students. We would be Louis the fourteenth, Hitler,
Napoleon Bonaparte, Alexander the great etc and he would ask us what we would
do in situations they were faced with.” He was telling me as I sat amazed,
listening to him.
“I got grade B in first year for history. Sir asked me to
improve the grade to A the next year and also advised me to read English
newspapers to improve my English. I told him my helplessness. I was born into a
poor Brahmin family with many mouths to feed and on days our only food would be
the Prasad from the Padmanabhaswamy temple near to the hut we all lived.
Getting even a paisa was difficult for a boy of my age that time, how could I
read newspapers? He smiled and gave me a 50 paisa coin saying, ‘go to Chala
market. Buy old English newspapers with this money from the scrap store there
and read them. Once you finish, take them to the same shop and exchange it with
other papers. Continue to read like that till your English becomes good’. What
a great idea! I needed to improve my English, not General Knowledge, so old
papers were fine for that! I heeded to that advice and my English became very
good in a year. I got excellent marks for final year and got admission at both
Medical College and Engineering College for my graduation. I opted for
Engineering since I had no money to pay the hefty tuition fee for MBBS.”
“Oh, very interesting! Thanks a lot for coming here and
telling me all this. I am very happy to hear this, but surprised why you did
not come to me before. I’m an IPS officer here since past 33 years and you
should have come any day prior to today…” I started.
“Wait, wait, I haven’t finished. There is a reason why I came
today. I went to Velayudhan Nair sir for autograph after the course, which was
a popular practice those days. He wrote two lines in a page of my autograph and
signed it. I found those lines to be poetic and with deep meaning and asked
whether it was his lines. He replied, ‘no, it was written by someone very
famous. Find it out. I know that the CET has a good library. Or join Public
library with student card. And start reading as a hobby. Once you find out who
wrote it, come and tell me’. I started reading books in earnest since then.
After my engineering degree, I got employment at KSEB. Within a year I got so
fed up of the corruption there that I wrote UPSC exams and got appointed in All
India Radio. I could clear UPSC easily since my English was quite excellent by
then. Before going out of Kerala to work for AIR, I went to see sir again. ‘Please
tell me who wrote those lines, sir. I have been continuously reading for 6
years now but could not find out the author of those lines yet.’ I had the
habit of writing down excerpts from the books I read in a note book so I showed
the book to him. He was impressed, but shaking his head, gave the same reply. ‘Continue
reading. Find out and come to me.’ I was determined to find out who wrote those
lines by the next time I meet him.” He paused.
He took out a huge book from his bag and showed me pages
after pages of lines written with different colour inks and quotes from every
book he had read in his life, with dates, name of book and author and important
sentences from each book. He had beautiful handwriting, I noticed. “I have
several books filled up like this. I have been reading for over 62 years now. I
am happy to say that in my life, the most happy and enjoyable times were those
spent reading. The autograph was written in 1957 by sir when I was just 16. Now
I am past 78 years old.” He gave a sigh and a smile and said with pride.
“I found who wrote those lines in the autograph just a few
days back. I got so excited and wanted to tell Velayudhan Nair sir so
immediately. But I could not, so I enquired, came to know that his daughter is
now a DGP rank officer, called your office to check up if you were free and
came over.” He delved into his bag as I sat with my mouth open.
“Those times, there were no computers for searching so I had
no option but to read till I found the author. I could have searched ‘google’ anytime
recently but that would have been cheating. Sir asked me to read, I enjoyed
reading so I continued to read.” He took out a tattered sheet of paper. I
eagerly took it thinking it was my father’s hand writing. It wasn’t.
“I lost that autograph somewhere down the lane. I worked in
Oman for a long time on deputation and at AIR, I was out of Kerala mostly.
After retirement I have got a home in Vattiyurkkavu, but we travel a lot to be
with my sons and daughter. I never forgot those lines, so I wrote them down
once I realized that the autograph is lost.” He extended the paper towards me.
Before I read the lines trying to find out if I knew who wrote them, he said in
an excited tone, “Marcus Aurelius! It was he who wrote these!”
Though an avid reader myself, I haven’t read any books of
Marcus Aurelius, so I wouldn’t have known also. He continued, “I had this urge
to tell sir that I found out the author, you know? This uncontrollable urge? Since
sir is no more, I’m happy telling his daughter instead.” His eyes glistened. I
too felt tears biting my eyes.
“Achan died 42 years back, but I still feel him very near me.
I will tell him for sure, he will be happy to know this. And he will be proud
of his favourite student. Thanks a lot, sir.” I told him as I handed back the
paper for which he had his hands extended. Relieved, he laughed like a child.
“Actually, I may see him before you do; I’m old and full of diseases.
Still, I wanted to tell you, that was why I came.” He looked at the tea which my
staff had placed before him a few minutes after he came in and which had gotten
cold and forgotten. “I will come to see your mother one day. Don’t want to take
anymore of your time.” He got up and slowly walked out.
In a rush of emotions, I sat frozen staring at the lines I
hurriedly wrote down before giving the paper back to him, in deep thought.
Achan was just 34 or 35 years old when he wrote these lines. How much of a
scholar he was even at that age! Mr Sharma is so lucky to have enjoyed hours
after hours of classes and close proximity with him! I suddenly realized that I
had forgotten to ask for his phone numbers or address! I should have at least
taken a selfie with him. But those autograph lines and his story had swept my
mind away to some other distant and beautiful place far, far away from my
mundane office. I re-read those lines conveying precious layers of meaning
albeit scribbled in my lousy handwriting-
“Very little is needed to make a happy life:
It’s all within yourself, in your way of thinking.”
