V. Pavitra Naidu Strict disciplinarian and Teacher of life

“Those were the days, my dearly beloved brother, when we flew around on the gossamer wings of love and laughter.” Yes, those were the wonderful and exquisite moments of our childhood and adolescence, which are etched so deeply in my heart, that they can never be erased. 

Even today, I can still visualise your face, hear your voice and feel that same emotional tug at my heartstrings, when I think of you. Our house at Daryaganj in Delhi, that haven of repose and calm, was the venue of an historical event in my life – the mathematics tuition, with a very proficient teacher – you, and an extremely-dull student – me. You truly toiled and laboured to put some math sense into my thick head. Unfortunately, all your sincere efforts were in vain. Every math class became a debacle. You declared that I was definitely a dunce (accompanied by a knock on my head), followed by a shrill, piercing cry, which would have put a banshee to shame and so the class ended. How I wish you can return and knock me on the head even ten times once again my dear “Annan.” 

I still remain your “Pappa” (baby) as you always called me, even after I became a grandmother and you have not left us

Another aspect of my life after we moved to Calcutta, which you influenced in a great manner, was my academic performance at school. I remember clearly how I returned home on shaky legs, holding my report card with trembling hands. Every mark, every comment went through a detailed scrutiny, which was followed by an eloquent lecture on the value of education in a person’s life. Thank you, for exercising that degree of concern and care, for being strict with me, not only in studies but in every single aspect of my life. Where did I learn the importance of punctuality, regularity, neatness and decorum? From an extraordinarily disciplined person, YOU! 

This intense thirst for knowledge and reading in particular was something I learnt by trying to imitate you. What pleasant hours were they, when I, a teenager, indulged in very rewarding and insightful discussions with you! What pleasant hours were they when I dived deep into the ocean of wisdom and richness of language that engulfed you! What pleasant hours were they when you shared your experiences on the trips you had abroad as an Assistant Manager in Air India! What pleasant hours were they, when I looked in your wardrobe, found some bottles of Old Spice, some fragrant men’s colognes and ‘used’ them… only to be reprimanded later! 

Even today, I can still visualise your face, hear your voice and feel that same emotional tug at my heartstrings, when I think of you

Our mother’s sudden death at the age of 58 caught all of us unawares. Oh! How kind you were to me by transforming yourself into my surrogate mother. Every evening while returning from office, you bought me chocolates and goodies of all sorts. Every Sunday, you took me to watch a Hindi movie. You bought me books and magazines galore to take my mind off the loss. All your free time after office hours and on Sundays you devoted to me. You helped me to combat that feeling of a vacuum left by our Amma. 

I still remain your “Pappa” (baby) as you always called me, even after I became a grandmother and you have not left us. You are still alive, encapsulated in those nostalgic, precious memories, locked away in that treasure trove of my soul. “For life and death are one, as the river and sea are one” 

Your ever-loving sister Jamna, brother-in-law Padmanaban, nephew Hariharan, wife Vigitha and daughter Prajna