On the morning of 20th March, my father, Rajendra Deo Shukla, didn’t wake up from his sleep. Sometime during the night, he left us on his final journey. He passed away peacefully, almost as if he had decided the time of his passing away, making sure that his family members were with him.
My earliest memory of my father is from early childhood, soon after my second sister was born. My mother was preoccupied with the new baby and the focus of attention was suddenly shifted from me. It was my father who ensured my emotional well being by reassuring me that I was loved and wanted. Thereafter, I recall him sitting cross legged on the floor, with one daughter on each knee, reading to us from a newspaper. It was on one such Sunday morning that he explained to us that our motherland is greater than heaven. He imbued us with commitment and values from an early age. Later, when my youngest sister was born, he placed her in my lap and told me that I was her second mother. The tight bond amongst the three sisters has endured through all these years.
Having three daughters in those days brought a great deal of pressure on him to have a son. He always said that his daughters were like his sons, and would make him proud through their achievements. When he was pressured to teach us to cook, he would respond that he wanted his daughters to become capable of hiring a cook and focused on our education instead. There was no book that he wouldn’t get for us. Once he got six scholarly books when I had just asked for one. His commitment to our education and delight in our progress, pushed us to do better. I joined the Indian Foreign Service in my first attempt, my younger sister similarly joined the Indian Revenue Service, and the youngest followed my father and became an Electrical Engineer.
Throughout his life, he remained committed to women’s empowerment. He gave wings to our dreams and pushed us to reach high. His three daughters achieved professional success in their respective fields. Till the end, he remained interested in our progress. But his interest was not limited to his own daughters. He was a loving mentor to others as well, once setting up his desktop in our cook’s room so his daughters could learn how to use computers.
He joined the Rashtriya Swayam Sewak Sangh (RSS) at a young age. This was a shock to his father, a prominent leader of the Congress Party and a freedom fighter, who had endured several jail terms. Being a rebellious man, perhaps it was his way to rebel against parental authority. In 1949, as an engineering student at Banaras Hindu University, he was put behind bars along with other members of the RSS in Varanasi. My grandfather came to get him released. He was brought out protesting against his release, but bent forward to touch his father’s feet when some roasted Chana nuts fell out of his shirt pocket. He quickly held his pocket with his left hand to save the rest of the nuts. This unconscious gesture melted the old freedom fighter’s heart and brought reconciliation between the two.
He believed in the RSS throughout his life, though his progressive ideas were at variance with what is generally believed to be the conservative right wing thought. He wanted everyone to focus on nation building, to take India to the 22nd century, to progress, not regress through backward thinking. He also did not believe in rituals, believing in spirituality rather than religion. He was opposed to those who sought to use religion as a profession. His ideas were way ahead of his times.
He taught us to face fear and not run away from it. To deal with his fear of public speaking, he once stood on stage without speaking for one minute. Thinking that he was nervous, the audience started encouraging him. After a minute, he explained that he was trying to see what would happen if he stopped speaking out of stage fright. He subsequently became a prolific public speaker. Even as a child, when we faced an unpleasant task ahead, he would explain things to us rationally instead of sugar-coating or using bribery to divert us. He would always say, you face fear and it will vanish; run away from fear, and it will continue to haunt you.
Once in Islamabad, our High Commission’s Gardener was picked up by the local agencies. Upon release, he came to my office traumatised and shivering with fear, wanting to return to India. I remembered my father and took him out of the building, walking with him to where the agency people were sitting and watching. We stood there for sometime talking to each other, till he was reassured. He overcame his fear and served two terms in that posting. Several times in my life, when I faced a difficult choice, I would hear his voice in my head.
As a young electrical engineer, he joined Bharat Heavy Electricals Ltd and rose high up the ladder till he took voluntary retirement. Despite occupying a managerial position, he had friends across the hierarchy. I have fond memories of some of his friends who worked on the shop floor of the factory. The position or wealth of the person was never a factor, everyone was welcomed equally warmly and respectfully to our home. Throughout his life, he remained humble and respectful of others, despite his own achievements and the achievements of his daughters. A few days before his death, he told me that I should credit my achievements in life to my mother’s hard work and loving guidance, not to him. It was almost as if he was ensuring my mother’s place in my heart for when he had gone.
My father had a larger than life personality, one that would not be ignored in any setting. He was always trying to help people. During his career, he helped a number of people to get jobs, or guided and mentored them. He even asked his family to help out people if that was required. He was warm and loving, rarely got angry, and took an interest in everyone’s well-being, regardless of their station in life. He was so courageous and fearless, living life on his own terms. He was honest and truthful, caring and compassionate, kind hearted and always ready with an affectionate smile. Zinda dil, cheerful and so very progressive. Though filled with several imperfections, he was a good soul, a Punya Atma.
He seemed to have some foreknowledge or premonition that his time had come. He ensured that my mother was with him at the end, and that we were in touch with him before he left, either physically or over the phone. In a way, he seemed to be trying to bring closure for us and himself before completing his journey on earth and making a peaceful departure.
We often rush through life with our eyes closed. Busy making ends meet and moving ahead, looking to the future and postponing the essential to a later date. The most precious relationships often get neglected in this rat race. If I could have my father back, I would tell him how much he was responsible for shaping our destinies. We have to remember not to wait to show our love and gratitude to our loved ones. Tomorrow may be too late.
(With inputs from Prachi Sinha and Gunjan Sharma).
