Remembering Baba on my birthday…

 

“21^st August, my birthday and for the first time in my life, this birthday would be different than the ones which have preceded it... Baba, you are not going to be around this time…at least in your physical form…

Today morning upon waking up, I felt a warm haze embracing me, I could feel your benign presence Baba. I received your blessings and instantly knew today would be very special!

Baba, I remember you today more than on any other day, after all, I am here because of you and Maa.”

Baba left us to be at the lotus feet of Krsna on 3^rd Nov. 2019

The day was a Sunday, I had just got up after having my lunch. Sundays are generally laid-back, it was 03:45PM when my brother broke the news, Baba had breathed his last at around 03:40PM

During his last days, Baba was with my brother’s family in Meerut.  I, my wife and our seven-year-old daughter stay in Gurgaon.

A world without Baba hasn’t sunk in yet, and I am sure it never will. My only solace is that he is no longer in pain and finally found peace at the feet of the Lord.

Baba suffered for almost two and a half years, a debilitating brain stroke pushed him to a vegetable state, unable to fend for himself, even basic human functions were a struggle for him.

The downward slide started with a slurred speech, dimmed vision, loss of hand eye coordination and finally he could not move at all. For a child, to see his parent so helpless can be excruciatingly painful.

The worst of all was his inability to recognize us, for almost two years he never spoke to us or even smiled at us.

The family could never come to terms with his condition. A man who walked all his life (he did not know how to ride a two-wheeler or a four wheeler) would one day have to depend on others for survival!

Born in Bangladesh (then pre-partitioned India) in a landlord family, he had a simple upbringing. After completing his matriculation studies from East Pakistan board (as a result of partition during India’s independence, the area of today’s Bangladesh was called East Pakistan) he came to India lock, stock and barrel.

Coming to India was less of choice and more because of religious persecution. During India’s independence from the British and subsequent partition, there was a mass exodus of Hindus from Pakistan (both East and West.)

Partition is and will always be an open wound for my generation. Imagine, one fine day you wake up to find you are homeless, that is if you are lucky to have woken up. Most did not, having been either killed in their sleep or burnt to death as their houses were set ablaze. The land upon which generations of your kith and kin had tread, suddenly became alien, childhood friends who swore by you, now became your sworn enemy.

A refugee is always an unwelcome guest…the new land does adopt you eventually, but there is always a searing pain in some dark recesses of your heart, an unfulfilled longing of the soul…a dream that one day you will return to your motherland to kneel down to kiss the soil and pick up some to rub it on your forehead.

Alas, for Baba that was never to be!

My earliest memory of Baba is of him holding my hand and walking me to school, this was in Ghaziabad. Baba had signed up for a better opportunity and we had recently moved from Calcutta (now Kolkata.)

From there, Agra beckoned us. I was then seeking admission to class IV. Baba sought me admission in one of the upcoming schools, today it is a name to reckon with in the field of education.

The new Principal on hearing my name exclaimed “Ah ah! Chakraborty…a Bengali, they are supposed to be intelligent, hope you will live up to this expectation.”

Baba smiled and said, ‘Yes, Ma’m he will,” although I was not quite sure if I was the right choice to carry this burden (Today, as I look back on my career, I have not done that bad either!)

Baba did not study after class X, earning his livelihood and settling down in a new land took priority. What he lacked in formal schooling, he made up for being a lifelong student in the great school called ‘life.’

Yet he ensured both I and my brother receive the best of formal schooling and a university degree.

This, of course, meant huge sacrifices from both our parents. I still remember days, when there would be practically nothing to eat…and, there were many such days…

Baba’s work never paid him well, and whatever he earned, most of it was kept aside for our education, the remaining was gobbled by rent, bills, medical bills etc.

When we were growing up, we never took a vacation, very rarely did we go out for movies or a family dinner. Maa only had two formal sarees in her wardrobe and Baba would wear out his shoes long after the shoes themselves gave up!

Yet Baba soldiered on, he always believed that education would surely be the passport to a great future for all of us.

After Baba left us, the first few months were more trying to understand our physical world without him. Honestly, I never really gave thought to the essence of the man, the living conscious being part of existence for eighty-two years.

Now, whenever I am alone or can manage a few moments for myself, I think about him a lot… more than the physical, the spiritual aspect of him.

And, I am sure, he is always with us…

Yet one thought keeps coming back to me – what did Baba bequeath unto us? What is his legacy?

And, very important, are we worthy successors to him?

Well, tough questions and the more I think, the more I am sure of one thing – he may have lived a frugal life, a life full of trial and tribulations, yet never once did he trade his integrity, never once did a harsh word escape his lips or an unkind gesture hurt anyone!

Never once did he betray his family’s trust, never once did he give us an opportunity to feel sorry that he was our Baba!

If this is not true legacy, what is?

“Baba, we know, you are watching us from above, and we know you are proud that we are steadfast on the path you have illumined before us by living a virtuous life.

Baba, this I can promise, that until the last breath I take, I shall always follow your footsteps, make good on your teachings and never give you an opportunity to feel sorry that I am your son!

Until we meet again! Hugs and kisses!