Photos of my father

Here are some photographs of my father with my mother and my two kids when they were younger. Will share some other family photos in a later post.

The following was written by my niece, Ramya, in memory of her grand father.

What can I say about Thatha that has not already been said? He was the bestest kindest grandparent anyone could hope to have. Do not remind me that ‘bestest’ is not a real word: it is in my dictionary and its definition is Thatha. He would do anything for anyone no matter what it was. He did not have the capability to say no to someone. Thatha was never optimistic himself, but he made everyone around him happy.

My most recent memory is that of when we were staying in Delhi. I had drawn a picture on a scrap piece of paper and wanted to stick it into my diary, but I had no glue. I asked Thatha. He first searched the entire house for any glue. Upon not finding any, he said to me “Don’t worry. I’ll sort something out.”

And he did. In the sweltering afternoon Delhi heat, when most of us were curled up asleep inside, Thatha walked all the way to the corner shop, and came back with a glue stick, which to me was the best present he could have given, more than any number of pairs of earrings or gold jewellery. Why was this, I hear you ask? Because that glue stick was presented to me with all the love and affection in the universe.

Another vivid memory of Thatha is when we were in Delhi many years prior to the glue stick incident. I remember, there had been a power cut during the late evening, the fans had stopped working and I was boiling hot, being from England. Thatha sat down next to my bed, took up a newspaper and began to gently fan me. As he did so, he began to tell his story, the story that everyone in our family will remember and treasure, the story we all associate with Thatha. The story of Jack.

Not Jack and the Beanstalk, no, this was far too mundane for my Thatha. This is the story of Silly Jack, who put the butter on his head instead of in a box, tied a rope around a can of milk and dragged it home, and stuffed a herd of chickens into a basket. Thatha was an amazing storyteller; he did not just TELL the story, he made us see it acted out in our minds. He made the entire tale memorable, as all of his grandchildren will fondly remember.

I am no literary genius, nor am I the next Einstein, but I know that Thatha was the nicest person I know, he was always there for me, he did things for others and never himself. I know that he was totally tolerant, painstakingly patient and greatly good. I know that everyone who knew him feels this way, and joins me in remembering the best Thatha ever.

Purpose

This blog is dedicated to my late father, Mr. V. Y. Narayan who passed away on March 21, 2013. Hope to share more info about him in the near future