A tribute

"How is Ayya (Sir) doing"? asked the sweeper at my bank. I was surprised - not sure to whom she was referring. She said "We still remember him even now". Then I realized she was talking about my father who used to work for the same bank. I was quite surprised because my dad retired about 21 years back and did not even work in that particular branch. But apparently, he used to visit the branch often and always had a kind word for the sweeper, asking about her family etc. Hence, she still remembers him after all these years. Not just the sweeper but some of the staff remember him for his booming voice and his sheer force of presence & personality.

My dad (or Anna as I call him) was someone who was a good example of the classical "rags to riches" stories or at least "rags to middle class". Born in a small village in Karnataka, he moved to the bad big world of Mumbai (then Bombay) at the age of 14. This was just before Partition and India was in a turbulent state. He was the eldest in the family of 5. My grandfather had a small hotel but there was not much of business and there were always hungry mouths at home.

Anna studied at the local school but did not have the requisite 3 annas - the fees for 3rd standard. Since he was a good student, the school waived his fees. His maternal uncle in Mumbai took him in and encouraged him to continue his studies. This is what amazes me also - the uncle had two kids of his own but still took his nephew and took care of him (that can be another post!) My dad still talks about how difficult it was for a 8th class pass in Kannada medium to write the 10th class exams in English but he had the will and passed the exam.

This was the time he was living in a chawl in Matunga and living conditions were tough which probably helped him. My aunt still says "Your dad was had a lot of guts and actually hit someone who misbehaved with me in a movie theater. We always felt protected". We look at my dad and wonder & smile secretly - finding it hard to believe.

He went to night college and worked in the morning in various jobs - as a tailor, a Bata shoe salesman and then a doctor's assistant (or compounder as they called it) in Dharavi. Once in a while he gets nostalgic and talks about how the poor slum dwellers would come and say "Doctor saab - injection de do". There was a shortage of injections and also they were quite expensive. The doctor used to fill in hot water and inject it and the patients got better!! Talk of belief!

After a long struggle in Mumbai, he got a job in a private bank in Hyderabad, moved here and lived ever since. The bank was nationalized (thanks to one Mrs. Indira Gandhi) but my dad worked long hours as if it was still a private bank. He ended up heading their Vigilance Unit for the state, a honest man in the right role. His knowledge of banking laws was vast and I remember the bank staff coming to our house to study for the officers exam and poor mom had to keep making endless cups of tea for all of them! He never sucked up which probably hampered his career but he remained true to his beliefs.

As the media goes into a frenzy about "Slumdog Millionaire", to me my dad is a prime example of it - someone who moved from a village to the chawls and then to his own house, of which he is very very proud.

To the rest of the world, "Prabhu Saab" (as most people call him) is someone they still remember fondly. To me, Anna remains someone I will ALWAYS be proud of - I see some oh his attributes in me and I hope I continue to do it...