Thoughts

A picture from that trip, summer 1998

In the summer of 1998 Indu and I went to Bangalore to visit Thatha and Patti at their Yelahanka house. At the end of our stay, we were planning to catch the Shatabdi to Chennai with Indu's sister and her husband (Banu and Ramesh). Thatha had ordered a taxi for us to go to the train station, but the taxi never came, forcing us to find another way there. Thatha accompanied us there, but by the time we made it, the train had already left. Ravi had often told me luxurious stories of him as a child and his family on the railways so, as a six year old, I thought there were no bounds to Thatha's powers on all matters concerning trains. I screamed to him, "Make it stop Thatha!", and cried when I realized we had missed our train and there was nothing he could do. I realize now that my fondness of the Indian railways comes not from my travels on the now decrepit system, but the knowledge that the grand railways my parents traveled on as children were under the watchful eye of Thatha. 

I would like to think I forgave Thatha quickly for his inability to stop the train to Bangalore. As I think back on my life, I have only the fondest memories of him. I loved the early morning beach walks we took together (though I know he would have preferred the walk to Adayar corner) and his general desire to make sure I was always happy. His stories always captivated me: whether it be about him as a boy in Nagpur in pre-independence India, his chance encounter with a Soviet Premier, or his travels to the Philippines to aid in their new railway system. His experiences were fascinating, but more than anything, he was a thoughtful and joyful companion. He was strong in his beliefs, but was always easy-going (except maybe with auto drivers), and a delight to be with.