Dear Thatha,
You left us last night. I am still finding it very hard to believe. After all, you escaped death so many times. I remember your health problems increasing severely about a decade ago. In these years, you changed so much. You had to undergo dialysis once in every two days for more than a year now. I remember, every time I asked you how you were, no matter what your condition and how pale your face, you would say, “Yeah, going on “. There was the time when there was a cancerous growth on your tongue, so they had to sew down part of your tongue. And yet, you practised talking, till you were intelligible again. Maybe this is why it is so hard to process, because, in my eyes, you have always been victorious, against all odds. Maybe this is a victory over life, which had slowly become suffering for you.
Let us begin at the beginning. You were born in a poverty stricken family in a small temple village in South India. Conditions were such that your father had to ration food. He passed away when you were just a boy, and the responsibility of feeding 4 younger sisters came onto your mother and yourself. Of course, there was no money or time for education. Cut to a few decades later, you were the Chairman of BPCL, a renowned Indian oil company. How? You travelled to North India and worked in coal mines. When your son was born, he needed medical aid, which was unavailable in the town. So you applied for a manager’s job at a big oil company in Mumbai. The interview letter did not reach in time. Yet, you persevered. You became a Cost Accountant. You did what it took to secure that job. And the rest is history. Being technologically savvy, you were instrumental in getting computers into mainstream work in BPCL. Given your dedication, it comes as no surprise to me that you remained Chairman for 8 consecutive years. Moreover, post retirement, you remained on the board of directors of several companies, in some cases, being the oldest to do so.
When I google your name, some articles say you are a lucky man. Luck can only take one this far in life. Your story was weaved by sheer hard work, integrity, diligence and perseverance. I remember you once told me about a typewriting exam you needed to pass. I think you said you needed to type about 5-10 words per minute, but, in your practice sessions, you could only get as far as 3. When the exam day came, you said, you decided that you will focus and do what you can, to the best of your ability. And voila! You passed with flying colors!
You were filled with such nuggets of wisdom, which had the power to instantly cheer up and motivate a person. There were several times when I would feel low, and after talking to you, I would be ready to give my problems another go. I remember, when I was giving the IIT-JEE exams, one of India’s toughest exams, I would go through several periods of depression. One such time, I was considering giving up. You told me, “Some nights, we can see the full moon, sometimes a waxing moon, and maybe on a cloudy night, the moon is invisible to us. That does not mean that it is not shining. It is just that currently, you can’t see it shining”. I have never forgotten this. It has helped me through many difficult times, and will continue to do so.
One of the most important things you taught me is to maintain my health. Having seen your decline, I am determined to maintain it. After all, who knows what else you might have achieved, if you were a little more cautious?
I know I am one of many who consider you to be a role model. You have taught me to be dedicated, and to give my 100%, no matter what the situation. Moreover, you taught me to do this with integrity. I recall a time when the founder of one of India’s biggest companies, infamous for having made his way up the ladder by not necessarily sticking to the right side of the law, was desperate to meet you to strike a deal. Requests gradually turned into threats. But you kept your stand, and refused. With great power, they say, comes great responsibility. And you walked your thorn filled path with bleeding feet, but keeping the torch of righteousness forever burning.
There will come a time when you might be forgotten, but your work is eternal. You live as a part of me and my work. I promise to keep your legacy alive, the only way that it can be : by living it.
I hope that you are without pain, wherever you are. Rest in peace.
Makeba 