A father is a hero, forever

Honesty and compassion learned young last a lifetime

Among numerous gems in Shakespeare’s plays, these words in Hamlet are unforgettable: ‘What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty,’ as they encapsulate all that my father was to me. He died 40 years ago, but I still meet those who remember him for his sterling qualities—his caring nature and his devotion to duty. Success was not easy, but he persevered with characteristic determination and cheer.

He made it a point to relate to us the wrongs he committed as a child and the lessons his mother taught him about honesty and compassion.

As a young boy, he once quietly pocketed a toy car at his neighbour's. My grandmother not only compelled him to hand it back to its owner but also made sure he asked for forgiveness. He once brought home a parrot and hid it away because pets were forbidden in the house. He forgot to feed it, and it died. His mother demanded that he promise never to cage a free creature again.

His heart was set on becoming a doctor, and in spite of the economic challenges a large family poses, he persisted. To save money on accommodation and food, he stayed with his brother, who then worked in Madras. My father never forgot this favour and cared for his brother to the end of his life.

After his successful stint at the Madras Medical College, he returned home. He attached himself as a resident doctor to a chemist and set up an independent practise in due course. He immersed himself in work, attending to patients at all hours of the day or night.

In all his life, he never demanded money for his services, but the rewards were steady, both in cash and kind. No one was ever denied his care and concern. Kerala, in those times, experienced six months of rain a year, and there were occasions when a patient’s relatives carried him over slushy fields to attend to a patient.

He wanted all his children to be doctors. He had placed intense hopes on me, but I chose to join Art’s stream. He was very disappointed, but never once did he reproach me. He, however, enthused my daughter so much that she fulfilled his fond hopes.

He worked almost to the end of his life. He was stricken with cancer that was inoperable. "Why do I suffer so?" he asked me during his final trial. "Perhaps it will enable you to help those on the other side," I tried to console him. He smiled his beautiful smile and squeezed my hand. One of my deepest hopes is that this is indeed true.