Narasimhan Srinivasachari April 16, 1930 - April 29, 2019
Thatha, my grandfather, brings me a medley of memories. When I became an adult I hated him for his treatment of my beloved paatti. I didn't quite like the fact that he ignored the need for educating my mother. I disliked his rude behavior. His addiction was not welcome at home. He can be a nuisance at times and his finicky nature will drive people nuts. For example, he will want a specific kind of food done in a specific way (perfect heat, perfect amount of oil, perfect time, etc.). But yet today, if I may, I am going to forgive him for all the bad memories he was part of. Who am I to forgive him anyways? At least I will try and forget them. Here was a person who was unique in his own way.
My earliest memory of him was when I had my summer holidays while I was in school. But he evidently had a bigger impact even before that. He was a retired police inspector. And in many of my childhood photos I will be posing a salute. Maybe just like my thatha I wanted to become a police too. (The only remnants of that ambition is my liking for cop-movies now :P)
Most of what I know of him was from what others used to say. He had an innocent but large-hearted personality. He once gave his neatly ironed police uniform to his friend and apparently his friend got promoted while he lost that opportunity. He was a corrupt-free and a honest policeman and even after retirement was always willing to help others. He was tall by my standards and his heavy build was easily scary. He was more fond of my brother (maybe because he was his first grandson) and I don't really remember much details personally during my early days.
I spent a year with him during my engineering days and I could watch this lion in his den. This is when I could actually see more of him. Here are some fond memories that will always bring a chuckle. When he wakes up, not just us, even the neighbors would know for sure. For he will brush, not just to remove whatever is on his teeth but also to try and purge out all the undigested items from the previous night's meal! He will then read the news dailies for probably hours (and sometimes I think even the ads). He was picky about things being clean around him. From his soap box to his floor to window grills to verandah, I have watched him pour buckets of water as if to pacify the floor for all the rubbing it receives from the thennanthodappam.
He will take bath as if he had not done so for a month and this would happen every day. You could here the sound of a waterfall for a few hours. It only gets amplified if he has an oil bath. He will slather a litre of oil on his well-built "macho" body and for a few minutes he will pose as though he is practicing for Mr. India (just the attire part :P). Once he takes bath he will comb his hair, just a few strands of it, but still would take a few minutes before each of them obey his orders. (but credits to where it is due: he still had more hair when he was 70 than what I had when I was in my 20s!)
Somehow taking a bath was his appetizer. He will just get crazy hungry after he takes a bath (it does not matter whether it happens at 9 in the morning or 2 in the afternoon) and this lucky bloke had a wonderful wife who will have his meals ready, steaming hot and crazy delicious. I think he really loved three things - eat what his wife made and unda masala(junk food), have a "sound" sleep (for he would snore), and count his money every day!
He not only kept his things clean but also maintained a low "inventory". He hardly kept things that are not needed. As a professor in operations management I teach lean inventory. He was a living example. He always eliminated waste at its source, had a couple of dresses for himself, maintained and rotated well, and almost had no collectibles.
He loved getting something for his grandchildren. Be it jewelry or junk food. And when I pay him a visit, I am guaranteed of some pocket money (even after I had started earning). Perhaps because, he was incapable of showing his love through other means. I don't remember him hugging me or giving me a kiss (barring one stray episode where I reminded him of his other son). To him the concept of love and affection were different, somewhat one-dimensional. Be it love for his wife, children, grandchildren, or others. It needs a person close to him (like his kin) to understand his love. He had no idea how to play with babies. He will make faces, mock them, irritate them, and that's his way of "playing". I will always remember he playing drums with his fingers on my head!
I know he had a few friends, some true and dear, but the number dwindled with age and I never paid interest in what they were chatting about. He had a keen interest in knowing about news, which would sometimes irk me (if the news time clashes with a live cricket match that I am watching). But other than for the news I have rarely seen him watch TV or movies. May be an odd serial when he got old.
This was a man who had (I think) a stress-free life for the most part. He had very little to worry about in life. He had some unique mannerisms and he will always remain in our memory through that. Every time one of us says something or does something just like him we all will immediately know who we are trying to mimic. Except for the last few days in his life, he had a wonderful time here. He was lucky to have a loving wife and a caring son later. I hardly cried today. He lived a full life and I am happy for him. Maybe he extended his stay a little longer than what was ideal. I hope Sriman Narayanan enjoys his company now.
Thatha, my grandfather, brings me a medley of memories. When I became an adult I hated him for his treatment of my beloved paatti. I didn't quite like the fact that he ignored the need for educating my mother. I disliked his rude behavior. His addiction was not welcome at home. He can be a nuisance at times and his finicky nature will drive people nuts. For example, he will want a specific kind of food done in a specific way (perfect heat, perfect amount of oil, perfect time, etc.). But yet today, if I may, I am going to forgive him for all the bad memories he was part of. Who am I to forgive him anyways? At least I will try and forget them. Here was a person who was unique in his own way.
My earliest memory of him was when I had my summer holidays while I was in school. But he evidently had a bigger impact even before that. He was a retired police inspector. And in many of my childhood photos I will be posing a salute. Maybe just like my thatha I wanted to become a police too. (The only remnants of that ambition is my liking for cop-movies now :P)
Most of what I know of him was from what others used to say. He had an innocent but large-hearted personality. He once gave his neatly ironed police uniform to his friend and apparently his friend got promoted while he lost that opportunity. He was a corrupt-free and a honest policeman and even after retirement was always willing to help others. He was tall by my standards and his heavy build was easily scary. He was more fond of my brother (maybe because he was his first grandson) and I don't really remember much details personally during my early days.
I spent a year with him during my engineering days and I could watch this lion in his den. This is when I could actually see more of him. Here are some fond memories that will always bring a chuckle. When he wakes up, not just us, even the neighbors would know for sure. For he will brush, not just to remove whatever is on his teeth but also to try and purge out all the undigested items from the previous night's meal! He will then read the news dailies for probably hours (and sometimes I think even the ads). He was picky about things being clean around him. From his soap box to his floor to window grills to verandah, I have watched him pour buckets of water as if to pacify the floor for all the rubbing it receives from the thennanthodappam.
He will take bath as if he had not done so for a month and this would happen every day. You could here the sound of a waterfall for a few hours. It only gets amplified if he has an oil bath. He will slather a litre of oil on his well-built "macho" body and for a few minutes he will pose as though he is practicing for Mr. India (just the attire part :P). Once he takes bath he will comb his hair, just a few strands of it, but still would take a few minutes before each of them obey his orders. (but credits to where it is due: he still had more hair when he was 70 than what I had when I was in my 20s!)
Somehow taking a bath was his appetizer. He will just get crazy hungry after he takes a bath (it does not matter whether it happens at 9 in the morning or 2 in the afternoon) and this lucky bloke had a wonderful wife who will have his meals ready, steaming hot and crazy delicious. I think he really loved three things - eat what his wife made and unda masala(junk food), have a "sound" sleep (for he would snore), and count his money every day!
He not only kept his things clean but also maintained a low "inventory". He hardly kept things that are not needed. As a professor in operations management I teach lean inventory. He was a living example. He always eliminated waste at its source, had a couple of dresses for himself, maintained and rotated well, and almost had no collectibles.
He loved getting something for his grandchildren. Be it jewelry or junk food. And when I pay him a visit, I am guaranteed of some pocket money (even after I had started earning). Perhaps because, he was incapable of showing his love through other means. I don't remember him hugging me or giving me a kiss (barring one stray episode where I reminded him of his other son). To him the concept of love and affection were different, somewhat one-dimensional. Be it love for his wife, children, grandchildren, or others. It needs a person close to him (like his kin) to understand his love. He had no idea how to play with babies. He will make faces, mock them, irritate them, and that's his way of "playing". I will always remember he playing drums with his fingers on my head!
I know he had a few friends, some true and dear, but the number dwindled with age and I never paid interest in what they were chatting about. He had a keen interest in knowing about news, which would sometimes irk me (if the news time clashes with a live cricket match that I am watching). But other than for the news I have rarely seen him watch TV or movies. May be an odd serial when he got old.
This was a man who had (I think) a stress-free life for the most part. He had very little to worry about in life. He had some unique mannerisms and he will always remain in our memory through that. Every time one of us says something or does something just like him we all will immediately know who we are trying to mimic. Except for the last few days in his life, he had a wonderful time here. He was lucky to have a loving wife and a caring son later. I hardly cried today. He lived a full life and I am happy for him. Maybe he extended his stay a little longer than what was ideal. I hope Sriman Narayanan enjoys his company now.
