Random Musings #5: RK7!
Daddy. Ranganathan Kesavan. RK7, initials that he liked to use. Number seven, his favorite and lucky number. MSQ 7579, the registration number plate of the first car, a black Ambassador, that he bought. And TSJ 7537, that of the blue Maruti 800. When he proposed the Maruti and we said “What about the cost”, his response was “We will buy the car, even if I have to mortgage my head!”
Generous to a fault, his wallet would be in his hand even before the bill was made. When his pocket was picked in a temple crowd in Madurai, he was deeply embarrassed, with no regret at all about the money lost but, that he would have to let me or Sudha pay, for a while.
For every two to three years that he would work at Chennai and be home, he would be away for a similar period. Young and naïve, we looked forward to his weekend trips home for the gifts he would bring, not appreciating the sacrifice that he and Mummy were making for us. He would bring sweets, cake, fruit, clothes and electronics and delight us every time. He had great taste in sarees and would choose oh-so-elegant ones that Mum would carry gracefully.
We would devour the treats he brought from McRennett (walnut cake, almond specials and cheeselets), Deluxe (mini samosas), Grand Sweets & Snacks, Adyar Bakery, Adyar Ananda Bhavan, Krishna Sweets (special Mysore pak) — the list kept growing as he discovered new and popular outlets. He, once brought a pack of ginger biscuits and disappointment flashed on his face briefly, when he realized that I had finished the whole pack while he took an afternoon nap!
While on food, we owe it to Daddy for turning us into the foodies that we are. Weekends with Dad meant treats at the best of restaurants — Drive-In-Woodlands, a post Anna-swimming-pool-session Ceylon egg paratha, Silver Sands, Blue Diamond, Shanti Vihar and others. This extended to his introducing us to his favorite restaurants at Trichy, Cochin and Hyderabad where he worked.
He was a voracious reader and he passed that habit to both Sudha and I. An early memory I have is of him clapping me around my ears, deservedly so, with a fresh issue of the Reader’s Digest that he was trying to read, as I took it on myself to nibble Sudha’s ear lobe! He brought us the Brittanica Encyclopedia, a collection of Sherlock Holmes and by mixed authors. Sudha and I would regularly raid the Kumaran Lending Library and read every Enid Blyton’s Secret Seven and Famous Five, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Agatha Christie, Alistair MacLean, Arthur Hailey book and the Tintin, Archie’s, Biggles, Phantom and Tarzan comic, that the library had. School holidays saw us read till 2 or 3 in the morning and waking up just before lunch. Into our teens, the books went on to include James Hadley Chase, Harold Robbins, Ayn Rand, Stephen King, Robin Cook, Jeffrey Archer and magazines such as the Illustrated Weekly, India Today, Business India, the Week, the Outlook, the Sportsweek and even the Debonair!
The introduction to pop, rock and country music was another gift he gave us. Through an early version of a Walkman from Karaikal and a sleek and futuristic looking Panasonic tape player from Burma Bazar (this still occupies pride of place in our upstairs living room at home in Chennai) and tapes that his colleague Mr. Sambamurthy made for him. ‘Staying Alive’ by the BeeGees, ‘California Dreamin’ by the Mamas and Papas, ‘It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie…’ by Brian Hyland, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, the Beatles, Abba and Boney M, Bill Haley’s ‘Rock around the clock tonight’, Queen’s ‘We Will We Will Rock You’, Glen Campbell’s ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’, John Denver’s ‘Take me home, country roads’. With Mozart’s 40th and Beethoven’s 5th symphonies thrown in for good measure.
Photography was another of his interests and I owe it to him for being able to take half decent photos. He taught me the rule of the thirds, without calling it so. “You can also move”, he would gently admonish when I asked the subject to move back, forward or sideways to try and get a good shot!
Dad worked for the State Bank of India and among other things, a perk was a holiday travel allowance every few years. Early trips to Yercaud, Ooty, Kodaikanal, Rameswaram, Bangalore, Mysore, Cochin, Trivandrum, Bombay, Goa and Hyderabad. Magical memories from a trip to Kashmir with a bus ride from Jammu to Srinagar via Banihal and Patnitop, stopping for omelette and bread at a stall carved into the side of a mountain with a sheer fall on the other side. Fellow tourists getting upset when we returned late after a pony ride up into the mountain at Gulmarg. The rosy cheeks of a stunning Kashmiri girl on a horse pulled cart in front of our car. A trip to the golden triangle of Delhi, Jaipur and Agra. Then Simla, Kulu and Manali. Many years later, we went back to Goa, with the family now including Viji, Suji, Prashanth, Preethi, Madhu and Nandhu and he would say “The best holiday ever”. While he visited us in Dubai a few times and in Singapore, a regret that I will always have is not taking him to Switzerland — “That’s one place I wanted to go”, he would say after Suju, Madhu, a 5 months old Nandhu and I had a holiday there.
Daddy was very handsome and he and Mummy made a great looking couple. When a friend, Mohan, came home for lunch when I was 18 or so, he would say “Why do you look the way you look when your parents are so good looking!?”. Dad had great taste in clothes with his shirt always neatly tucked in with perfectly matched trousers. He took to wearing safari suits in various shades stitched by his favorite Modern Tailors. He had his favorite hair saloon too — 3 Coins at Nungambakkam. The sight of a smartly suited Dad being dropped off home after a trip from Hyderabad, smelling very pleasant and his gifts still cool to the touch from the plane, stays in my mind.
He was fiercely proud of his sons and while Mummy taught us to read and write and coached us all the way through school, he gave both Sudha and I the all-important break in our careers with Sundaram Fasteners and Voltas. He would continue to embarrass me from high school, CA days and into work with Voltas and Aggreko, sharing the smallest detail of progress with family and friends, with glowing eyes.
Dad was the second of nine siblings. Sudha and I were born in a joint family with Thatha, Daddyma, Prakash appa, Hari appa, Gopal appa, Shanthi aunty, Bathu aunty and Banu aunty staying with us in early years. He was Kesava to his elders, Anna to his sisters, brothers, cousins, Mama to mummy’s brothers, sisters and cousins, Daddy to Sudha, I and our cousins. All having respectful fear of not measuring up to the high standards that he set for himself and those that he loved. Very soft and sentimental just below the surface of a stern and strict persona.
He spoilt his grandchildren rotten showering all his love and generosity on them. Mummy would be highly amused at him sitting silently without complaining when Madhu disturbed his always neat hair, running a comb through playfully!
“Lawley” was how he called Mummy. While they meant the world to each other and are individually special and successful, what they, as a couple for over 50 years, were for everyone who knew them, as parents, as family and as friends, sets them a class apart.
Daddy, you moved to a better place five years ago. In Mummy, we see you as she continues to smile from her heart with her lips, eyes and voice, the strong woman that she is and has always been.
Time rolls on. Our respect and love for you grows as we age. As we mature. As we learn. As we realize. The difference that you made. The impact that you left. That we are, what we are, because of you. And Mummy. Only and only.
