Raju Korti
It is easy to deploy platitudes when you describe your heroes but my eldest brother Anil, endearingly known as Baba, was so matter-of-fact that he would make anyone who crossed his path, to look very objectively at him. Straight as ramrod and a person of unflinching beliefs, he was a strange mix of human chemistry. I lived in his shadows for sixty years and when he passed on December 6, it took sometime to sink in and assess just how much he meant to me without the verbiage cliche that are conventionally used to describe the dead.
Even in the complicated maze of relationships, it is discernible that sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the loss of parents and flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and warmth. Looking back at the decades that I spent with him, I can now only marvel at what went into the making of his distinct personality. Baba is a familiar address for father but my brother got his name from our grandfather who was disciplined to the boot and a task master. He inherited these genes from the senior Baba. But beyond this tough exterior lay an extremely sensitive and affectionate human being. That, however, never made him compromise on his exacting standards.
He passed his graduation in Civil Engineering with Honours in 1970 and as a youngster about to enter college, I saw that his performance was top notch. I particularly recall his Engineering Drawing sheets that were worth preserving in a museum. The fonts that he replicated in his writing and drawing would be better than the original. His classmates often spent nights in my house, seeking his help in completing their projects. His handwriting -- whatever the language -- deserved consecration. I watched all this with awe, wondering if it was humanly possible for anyone to be so perfect with a capital P.
I attribute my love for Physics and Mathematics to him. I was not very fond of these subjects until my 7th standard but Baba had a peculiar habit of thrusting them in my face. Often, before going to college, he would open any book (which were many), any random page, tick-mark a problem and ask me to solve it before he returned. Sometimes I could, most of the times I could not. But when he came back he would make it look ridiculously simple and it was then I realized that these subjects were no demons if you had someone who could explain it like he did. Even before I took admission in engineering college, he had started explaining to me the concepts in layman's terms. The difference between him and me was while I dreaded Applied Mechanics, a killer subject for most, he took wanton delight in teaching it to me. And then, he evinced interest in everything and was deeply knowledgeable -- from sports to music and politics to science.
I recall how as an impressed younger brother, I mentioned him to my friends after he had passed the MPSC examination in the first attempt. Sometime after his marriage, he discovered a new found talent for cooking. In fact, so taken in he was that he would often discourage my sister-in-law to enter the kitchen. The house woke up on the sounds of the vegetable cutter but what was amazing was each vegetable piece was cut into precisely the same size. His artistic bent of mind was always in evidence in whatever he did. The best part was he knew exactly how much quantity to cook. It perfectly sufficed us. No wastage or question of eating leftover food. Watching cookery shows, he would innovate with every cuisine at his finger tip. His home-made spices were a huge draw and till to this day I wonder why he didn't get into that business. I am sure he would have given the existing brands a run for their money.
I could see that he seamlessly fit into any robes that he donned. My one particularly endearing memory is the way he bathed me as a kid. He would stand and make me sit at his feet. Then he would pour water on his head so that it fell on me too. While having an early lunch to go to office, he would feed me morsels. In all this display of care, he also took me to task me when I did anything wrong. By the time I got into Engineering, I realized he was almost as much a father to me as my real father. He had an uncanny ability to know what was in my mind. "You want anything?" he would ask and I would hesitatingly tell him I wanted to go for a movie or hang around with friends. He would just fish his hands in his pant pockets and gave me whatever came to him -- Rs 10 or Rs 50, a princely sum in the 70s. He never asked me to explain how I spent which made me even more responsible while spending whatever he gave. I remember I wanted to go in for a court marriage and feared my parents won't approve. Baba just put his foot down and said "it will be a registered and only registered marriage." When he spoke with that conviction, not even my father, himself a strong-willed man, could dare refuse.
I believe he commanded respect from old and young alike simply because he led by example rather than pompous sermonizing. In any case once he had made up his mind, he would never budge even if he realized later that he had erred. He hated compromises and mediocrity -- something that forced people who came in contact with him to be constantly on their guard and do their best. He had zero tolerance for the undisciplined especially those who had no respect for other's time. That to an extent also made him unpopular with many people but he couldn't care less. There were people who didn't know whether to thank him for his largesse and giving nature or to keep away from him for his apparent abrasive demeanour. He would make it a point to share pleasantries with thousands of people in his phone list with religious regularity every day without being hassled that many of them didn't even bother to respond. "I do it because I must do it. Matter ends," he would say.
Having suffered a very debilitating illness like Psoriasis for almost 30 years, he had become irritable and testy. It was excruciating to see the skin condition disfigure his handsome face and make him suffer years on end but he never abdicated any of his responsibilities. I guess he had realized that the end was near and had started offering each one of us financial help. 71 is no age to die especially if you don't have the usual suspects like diabetes and blood pressure. The impact of his exit -- something I didn't feel even when my father passed in 1990 -- has started hitting me.
I feel I am out on a limb now. Brothers don't let each other wander in the dark alone. I lived in his shadow all his life. Now I live in his glow.
Here is an ode to him:
I shared with you all my hopes, dreams and despair
I also had run ins with you, but you were also giving and forgiving
Deep within me I know my bond with you is unbreakable even in death
You always stood up for the right and were always correct
I may or may not show, you will remain the anchor of my life
You are my heart and my alter ego, without you survival is unimaginable
I know that you shall pass every test, whenever and wherever
And if I am born again, let ME be your elder brother
To repay your debt with interest.
It is easy to deploy platitudes when you describe your heroes but my eldest brother Anil, endearingly known as Baba, was so matter-of-fact that he would make anyone who crossed his path, to look very objectively at him. Straight as ramrod and a person of unflinching beliefs, he was a strange mix of human chemistry. I lived in his shadows for sixty years and when he passed on December 6, it took sometime to sink in and assess just how much he meant to me without the verbiage cliche that are conventionally used to describe the dead.
Even in the complicated maze of relationships, it is discernible that sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the loss of parents and flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and warmth. Looking back at the decades that I spent with him, I can now only marvel at what went into the making of his distinct personality. Baba is a familiar address for father but my brother got his name from our grandfather who was disciplined to the boot and a task master. He inherited these genes from the senior Baba. But beyond this tough exterior lay an extremely sensitive and affectionate human being. That, however, never made him compromise on his exacting standards.
He passed his graduation in Civil Engineering with Honours in 1970 and as a youngster about to enter college, I saw that his performance was top notch. I particularly recall his Engineering Drawing sheets that were worth preserving in a museum. The fonts that he replicated in his writing and drawing would be better than the original. His classmates often spent nights in my house, seeking his help in completing their projects. His handwriting -- whatever the language -- deserved consecration. I watched all this with awe, wondering if it was humanly possible for anyone to be so perfect with a capital P.
I attribute my love for Physics and Mathematics to him. I was not very fond of these subjects until my 7th standard but Baba had a peculiar habit of thrusting them in my face. Often, before going to college, he would open any book (which were many), any random page, tick-mark a problem and ask me to solve it before he returned. Sometimes I could, most of the times I could not. But when he came back he would make it look ridiculously simple and it was then I realized that these subjects were no demons if you had someone who could explain it like he did. Even before I took admission in engineering college, he had started explaining to me the concepts in layman's terms. The difference between him and me was while I dreaded Applied Mechanics, a killer subject for most, he took wanton delight in teaching it to me. And then, he evinced interest in everything and was deeply knowledgeable -- from sports to music and politics to science.
I recall how as an impressed younger brother, I mentioned him to my friends after he had passed the MPSC examination in the first attempt. Sometime after his marriage, he discovered a new found talent for cooking. In fact, so taken in he was that he would often discourage my sister-in-law to enter the kitchen. The house woke up on the sounds of the vegetable cutter but what was amazing was each vegetable piece was cut into precisely the same size. His artistic bent of mind was always in evidence in whatever he did. The best part was he knew exactly how much quantity to cook. It perfectly sufficed us. No wastage or question of eating leftover food. Watching cookery shows, he would innovate with every cuisine at his finger tip. His home-made spices were a huge draw and till to this day I wonder why he didn't get into that business. I am sure he would have given the existing brands a run for their money.
I could see that he seamlessly fit into any robes that he donned. My one particularly endearing memory is the way he bathed me as a kid. He would stand and make me sit at his feet. Then he would pour water on his head so that it fell on me too. While having an early lunch to go to office, he would feed me morsels. In all this display of care, he also took me to task me when I did anything wrong. By the time I got into Engineering, I realized he was almost as much a father to me as my real father. He had an uncanny ability to know what was in my mind. "You want anything?" he would ask and I would hesitatingly tell him I wanted to go for a movie or hang around with friends. He would just fish his hands in his pant pockets and gave me whatever came to him -- Rs 10 or Rs 50, a princely sum in the 70s. He never asked me to explain how I spent which made me even more responsible while spending whatever he gave. I remember I wanted to go in for a court marriage and feared my parents won't approve. Baba just put his foot down and said "it will be a registered and only registered marriage." When he spoke with that conviction, not even my father, himself a strong-willed man, could dare refuse.
I believe he commanded respect from old and young alike simply because he led by example rather than pompous sermonizing. In any case once he had made up his mind, he would never budge even if he realized later that he had erred. He hated compromises and mediocrity -- something that forced people who came in contact with him to be constantly on their guard and do their best. He had zero tolerance for the undisciplined especially those who had no respect for other's time. That to an extent also made him unpopular with many people but he couldn't care less. There were people who didn't know whether to thank him for his largesse and giving nature or to keep away from him for his apparent abrasive demeanour. He would make it a point to share pleasantries with thousands of people in his phone list with religious regularity every day without being hassled that many of them didn't even bother to respond. "I do it because I must do it. Matter ends," he would say.
Having suffered a very debilitating illness like Psoriasis for almost 30 years, he had become irritable and testy. It was excruciating to see the skin condition disfigure his handsome face and make him suffer years on end but he never abdicated any of his responsibilities. I guess he had realized that the end was near and had started offering each one of us financial help. 71 is no age to die especially if you don't have the usual suspects like diabetes and blood pressure. The impact of his exit -- something I didn't feel even when my father passed in 1990 -- has started hitting me.
I feel I am out on a limb now. Brothers don't let each other wander in the dark alone. I lived in his shadow all his life. Now I live in his glow.
Here is an ode to him:
I shared with you all my hopes, dreams and despair
I also had run ins with you, but you were also giving and forgiving
Deep within me I know my bond with you is unbreakable even in death
You always stood up for the right and were always correct
I may or may not show, you will remain the anchor of my life
You are my heart and my alter ego, without you survival is unimaginable
I know that you shall pass every test, whenever and wherever
And if I am born again, let ME be your elder brother
To repay your debt with interest.
