This Is It...

Ahoy Folks!

Long time, eh? Well I had to gather strength to write something. This year was a terrifying nightmare for me - the worst year one could ever have. Starting from my appendicitis surgery in June to My Father’s death in December, the latter being a big shock - life finally showed how unpredictable it can be.

This post is strictly gonna be about my father. Sort of a biography, and a crude one, but it will surely be an interesting one. 

Nanna’s (that what I call him, its Telugu for father) life spanned a short 55 years, with a balance of joys and hurdles. Born in 1958 on a day before the Indian Republic Day, and the second-youngest of 7 siblings, he was named Venugopal by his parents - Venkataramana (grandpa) and Padmavati (grandma). His childhood is something i’ve less known about. When he was 4, his father passed away. I remember him talking once t about this, that he only remembered one situation with his father - just one. That way I may be lucky that I had 17 years of time with him. He, and his siblings, were raised by his maternal Uncle, whom they all call “Devudu Mavayya” (Devudu - God in telugu). He was indeed a god, raising them as his own children and making them stand on their own legs.

Nanna did his schooling in Berhampur, that’s where they all lived. Although Berhampur is in Odisha today, it has a considerable Telugu population because of its proximity to the Andhra border. Getting his degrees in Sciences from Berhampur, he struck a liflong friendship with a few of his schoolmates - Sundar uncle, Balaji uncle and quite many whom I don’t even know about. He got a chance to do his PhD in the prestigious Indian Institute of Science, Bengaluru.

While in Bengaluru, he was attending his friend’s wedding where a woman turned out - my mother, Lakhsmi. Listening to her singing he struck an instant love and married her in January 1988. An year later, my sister was born. Nanna got his first job in IIT Delhi as a research associate. He spent the initial 8 years of his family life over there, my sister’s initial schooling was in Delhi too.

In June 1996, when mother was expecting a naughty child (yeah, me :P), Nanna moved to Pune to get the new job in Indian Institute of Tropical Meteorology. After I was born in Chennai, which is my mother’s family’s residence, we moved permanently to Pune.

My relationship with Nanna was different. We both shared the same room. I would be all ears when he wrote his blogs and proofread them. We had endless talks shortly before sleep - lights off and we used to start a topic - my daily stuff, his childhood, meteorology and other sciences. We never knew when we fell asleep, and the next moment he would wake me up at 6 AM everyday for school. He would support me in all my decisions, and never gave any presure on me regarding studies, or taking up a specific career. There are many things which either I cannot express in words, or they’re too long! He’s the father that everybody should have.

In 2011, he started Krishnaprema, a blog where he wrote on music, philosophy and cinema. He used to prepare a written matter and I used to upload them. Despite my denial, he always said “it wouldn’t have been made without you”. For those who have a rich interest in music can see his blog, link at the bottom.

2013 came with a great note - but who knew the future! In early June he heard the news of his eldest brother’s death. He was most silent that day I must say - whenever I sat beside him he talked about his time spent with his brother, their happy moments, personal stuff. Life went on and I was diagnosed for appendicitis and was operated a day before my birthday. While coming out of anesthesia, his face was the first for me to see, and I saw him crying for the first (and last) time. I was… what to say…feeling different! I never talked about this with him, but if I could say to him at that moment - “Its okay Nanna, its over, im fine!”

In early December we quickly made a plan of visiting Nepal. We had an LTC available. Nanna was most enthusiastic, dancing all around singing “I’m Gopal, and im going to Nepal!”. We also wanted to meet his Delhi friend Dr Shakya, who was now living in Kathmandu. We planned a trip via Varanasi, where we saw the holy Kashi Vishwanath. Everthing was fine, and we were in Kathmandu by Christmas.

And the day came…26 December 2013. We booked a cab and left for sightseeing by noon. After conveying our prayers to the mighty Pashupatinath, we were getting back from the historic city of Bhaktapur, when he suffered a massive heart attack in the car. An attempt was made my me and my sister to administer a CPR but it was no success. By the time we reached the hospital, which wasn’t too late - around 5 minutes, he was declared to be brought dead. Although they hid this news to my mother and sister, who were hoping for his recovery outside the hospital, they explained it to me inside. It wasn’t just a shock - it was a feeling of loneliness, sadness, guilt, disapproval and the immense responsibilty that came into my hands as soon as the doctor said “He’s no more”. I collapsed into sadness, crying - asking him to wake, not even realizing he aint listening. Gathering strength, and with the immense help of his friend Dr. Shakya, Mr. Anil, and my cousins who picked a flight from Hyderabad just to give us support - we brought him back to Pune by 28th, facing immense difficulties on the way. The support given by relatives and friends was overwhelming. While he was getting cremated, I thought in my mind - “Nanna, only if you could see how many people knew you, they’re all here”. The ashes were scattered into the holy river of Godavari. 

And then I realized the truth of life - at an age of 17 - that all that remains of us in the end is a few pieces of bones and a handful of ashes. Its upto us how we live - what relations we make. Who knows what will come next, even he didn’t know he suffered from something that was a time bomb about to explode. We sometimes feel the guilt, “If we knew before, he could be with us now”. But we cannot help - its all written.

This is his story. This is his life. No day goes by without missing him, but we have to move on. Making him an ideal, everything seems good. Following his footsteps will lead me to success, that’s what I know, that’s what I believe.

To the man that made me someone! :) :’)