A typical image that comes to mind when I think of Tirupur Thatha (my maternal grand-father) is him preparing for his post-lunch nap in his Tirupur home. We would have just finished a delicious lunch of rice and sambhar followed by curd rice and rasam and he would have changed into a white banian and white pyjamas. Lying face-down on the bed, he would be asking my grand-mother to find his spectacles that he's misplaced somewhere and calling me to massage his back. In half an hour, he would be up again, dressed smartly and ready to go back to his clinic. At around 8 pm, he would come back from work, cheerful, still active, usually with some fruits that he'd bought on the way. Simple, healthy, diligent, disciplined and happy - that is Thatha for you.
But above all, good. Goodness is the quality that best describes him and all his other qualities seem to follow naturally from this. Doing the 'right thing' comes naturally to him, as though it is the only thing one could do. He took care of his mother from the time she was 50 (and him 25) till she passed away at 106. He gave substantial financial support to his extended family for sustained periods of time. When there were floods in Tirupur, he sheltered Tirupur's slum people in his nursing home. When his patients didn't have money to buy their prescribed medicines, he bought it for them :).
I also enjoy watching him on big social occassions. Whenever there is a free microphone, he is never far away from it - to sing his favourite song or to express his views. He enjoys participating, being involved...even being the centre of attention, but enjoys all this in a humble, grounded way.
Humility is a pervasive characteristic in him, so much so that it is hard to notice. Because he thinks himself the same as everyone else, you think so too - until you realise that in many ways, he is better. In service-mindedness, he is definitely better. At the age of 80, he still goes almost every week-day to villages around Tirupur on a free-healthcare project, treating villagers for free using the opened-out back of van as his office-space. In his sense-of-duty, he is definitely better. On family holidays, he would often arrive a few days late or leave a few days early, because he wanted to get back to work. Countless times, on weekend visits to Coimbatore, he and Ammamma would hurry back to Tirupur on a Sunday evening so that he can be rested and ready for work on Monday morning. In brilliance and expertise in his profession, he is definitely better. His mother always told me of how he was one of the youngest ever graduates from medical college. Personally, I remember how accurate his diagnosis and prescription has been whenever I have fallen ill. His depth of understanding is superb - I remember him once giving my sister and me a detailed biological account of why pomegranates are good for us.
In Tirupur, he is famous - and famous is not too strong a word. Every single auto-rickshaw driver knows his name. He is loved, respected, admired, even revered.
But that brings me to the one thing I've never understood about Thatha. Most people strive for material success as a way of proving their worth, to be able to feel better than most people, to eliminate any chance of rejection in social situations, to always be accepted. Thatha has achieved all this and more. He is loved and respected more than anybody I know because of the service he has done rather than any material success. Yet, a part of him seems to want to succeed materially. Thatha, you've achieved what everybody else is striving for. Be assured of this fact and enjoy it. There is nothing left for you to prove to anyone.
There is a book called To Kill A Mocking Bird. The protaganist, Atticus Finch, is a lawyer, who unobtrusively and efficiently goes about his job and in every way tries to behave in accordance with the values he believes in. Thatha is the closest thing I know to Atticus Finch. Like Atticus, one would not associate him with the popular idea of a hero - he does not have bulging biceps nor a deep voice, he does not walk with a swagger nor has he punched down anybody in a fist-fight. But for those who know better, he is most definitely a hero - a gentleman hero. My Hero :)
Today (17th August 2010), Thatha passed away. He had suffered 3 to 4 strokes in the past few months. When I wrote this article, he had suffered his first stroke and could no longer read, but my Aunty (his daughter) read it out to him. I'm sooooooooo glad he could hear it and know how I felt about him :)
But above all, good. Goodness is the quality that best describes him and all his other qualities seem to follow naturally from this. Doing the 'right thing' comes naturally to him, as though it is the only thing one could do. He took care of his mother from the time she was 50 (and him 25) till she passed away at 106. He gave substantial financial support to his extended family for sustained periods of time. When there were floods in Tirupur, he sheltered Tirupur's slum people in his nursing home. When his patients didn't have money to buy their prescribed medicines, he bought it for them :).
I also enjoy watching him on big social occassions. Whenever there is a free microphone, he is never far away from it - to sing his favourite song or to express his views. He enjoys participating, being involved...even being the centre of attention, but enjoys all this in a humble, grounded way.
Humility is a pervasive characteristic in him, so much so that it is hard to notice. Because he thinks himself the same as everyone else, you think so too - until you realise that in many ways, he is better. In service-mindedness, he is definitely better. At the age of 80, he still goes almost every week-day to villages around Tirupur on a free-healthcare project, treating villagers for free using the opened-out back of van as his office-space. In his sense-of-duty, he is definitely better. On family holidays, he would often arrive a few days late or leave a few days early, because he wanted to get back to work. Countless times, on weekend visits to Coimbatore, he and Ammamma would hurry back to Tirupur on a Sunday evening so that he can be rested and ready for work on Monday morning. In brilliance and expertise in his profession, he is definitely better. His mother always told me of how he was one of the youngest ever graduates from medical college. Personally, I remember how accurate his diagnosis and prescription has been whenever I have fallen ill. His depth of understanding is superb - I remember him once giving my sister and me a detailed biological account of why pomegranates are good for us.
In Tirupur, he is famous - and famous is not too strong a word. Every single auto-rickshaw driver knows his name. He is loved, respected, admired, even revered.
But that brings me to the one thing I've never understood about Thatha. Most people strive for material success as a way of proving their worth, to be able to feel better than most people, to eliminate any chance of rejection in social situations, to always be accepted. Thatha has achieved all this and more. He is loved and respected more than anybody I know because of the service he has done rather than any material success. Yet, a part of him seems to want to succeed materially. Thatha, you've achieved what everybody else is striving for. Be assured of this fact and enjoy it. There is nothing left for you to prove to anyone.
There is a book called To Kill A Mocking Bird. The protaganist, Atticus Finch, is a lawyer, who unobtrusively and efficiently goes about his job and in every way tries to behave in accordance with the values he believes in. Thatha is the closest thing I know to Atticus Finch. Like Atticus, one would not associate him with the popular idea of a hero - he does not have bulging biceps nor a deep voice, he does not walk with a swagger nor has he punched down anybody in a fist-fight. But for those who know better, he is most definitely a hero - a gentleman hero. My Hero :)
Today (17th August 2010), Thatha passed away. He had suffered 3 to 4 strokes in the past few months. When I wrote this article, he had suffered his first stroke and could no longer read, but my Aunty (his daughter) read it out to him. I'm sooooooooo glad he could hear it and know how I felt about him :)
