To Baba With Love

When
Baba, a professor, retired after 40 years from one of India's premier
engineering institutes, he booked a modest two-bedroom government house to mark
the event, at the family's insistence
All through my childhood, we
often despaired at his total disinterest in anything remotely luxurious While
his students turned up on swanky motorbikes, Baba would bicycle to the
institute, which was close by and “did not merit wasting
fuel”“I'm married
to a saint!” Ma would remark sarcastically.whenever he refused to buy a
second pair of shoes.

“We have much more than we really need,” was
all he would say in reply to our bright
ideas Since Baba's was often the brutally
honest lone voice against the management, he frequently earned their
displeasure There were, of course, no savings, and the money was always just
enough to cover the necessities, but never enough for Ma's double-door fridge or
Kanjeevaram sari Yet, he quietly sent a small amount to his village and never
turned away the steady stream of “needy” people who often.arrived at
our doorstep.

“Even the
new lecturer next door has bought a Maruti,” Ma would scowl at his
newspaper “Thank God! The children are more ambitious and did not take
after you” To such comments, Baba offered neither retort nor explanation
At the inauguration for the
new Business School, when we coaxed Baba to wear a branded shirt, he was very
uncomfortable “But Babloo (the neighbourhood tailor) is very good,”
he said And so Baba delivered his speech dressed exactly as he always was He
seemed such a.misfit in today's world.


Then, recently, an invitation
arrived for the institute's centenary celebrations, where “exemplary
teachers and true role models” would be honoured I decided to tag along
to relive childhood memories Baba returned to the institute after five years to
a warm and rousing welcome Through the day, everyone — from the director
to the peons — fawned over us, updating Baba on all the projects he had
started, the departments and labs he had
createdThere was a dinner in
his honour that evening.All his colleagues and many of his ex-students, some of
whom I recognised from the cover stories in business magazines, turned up.


Just then, “Sir” ,
a very sophisticated but apologetic voice intervened It was Mr
Multi-millionaire “Sir, I don't know if you remember me, but you've been
one of the biggest influences in my life I'd be grateful if you could please
spare five minutes to speak to my son, who will soon start college” I was
speechless As the speeches started neither Ma nor I could hold back our tears
at hearing the words used in praise of Baba - “his honesty and
integrity lent this institute its.character.

”, “ his deep
commitment to his profession and selfless devotion to his subject went on to
inspire hundreds of young scientists”, “ his fair, firm and
affectionate manner of dealing with his young students made him one of the most
popular teachers” Gosh, were they saying all this for Baba? My
innocent, simple, truthful-to-a-fault Baba?
I looked around the packed
auditorium and as several designer suits bent down to touch his feet, I had all
my answers And I just sat there, amazed and.very proud.

Baba has succeeded
where so many of us fail As mentor, parent and human being It took me so
long to realise it The commemorative medal he got that day barely covered the
palm of my hand, but it felt solid and beautiful, and so much bigger than it
was The next week, when his six-year-old grand-daughter was attracted to the
shiny coin that dada had, to no one's surprise, he gave it to her to keep.