*Tribute to a Hindu father*
I don't know what to say when some people question my being a Hindu bybirth. Very few are interested in knowing about the pains I took for myreligious and spiritual education in a family which was very ritualistic. Myfather was an epitome of Hinduism as he understood it from his perspective. > Joao says: Thank you for sharing this beutiful piece of writing with us. Traditionally, we know how much Hindus love trees and this piece made me feel the deep spirituality of what it means to be a Hindu. I was deeply moved. Thank you again. Celebrate life! .As I am getting older, I suppose, I can catch his life from a more matureperspective. He may forgive for any transgression.I know him as a very devout Hindu. I have not seen anyone performing a pujaeveryday for 4-5 hours, for more than 60 years, three times a day. Thenthere were pilgrimages, yadnyas, abhisheks at temples. We couldn't study at night when he chanted (japa) "OM NAMAH SHIVAY"four-five thousand times. The century old house with old fashioned tileswould reverberate with the chant. He would not stop till midnight.Then it would begin all over again in the morning, then in the afternoon,late. He would have the lunch at 4 or 5 PM.Once I asked him-"Father why are you doing all this?"He replied innocently-" I am collecting 'punya' for all of you and for yourkids when they would be born". He had full faith in karmavipaka.He never missed a single Hindu festival. We are branded GSB vaishnavaitesowing allegiance to Partagali monastery. But my father was a polytheist. In his pantheon our family deity-Lord Ganesha was on top, followed by LordSiva, then Lord Vishnu, Lord Ramachandra and Lord Krishna. But he also worshiped our sthandevata-Sri Damodar of Margao/Zambaulim. He was also fond of Lord Hanuman. Whatever he chanted we also memorizedautomatically. He fed the crows and cows without fail and no beggar went without food oralmsHe was cheerful in welcoming every guest. He never discussed the guest'sreligion or caste. Everyone shared the table equally.Actually I became aware about castes only later, in the college. As school going kids he imposed prayers on us and I blindly followed themfor some years before starting my own exploration in the srutis and smrutisand vedanta. I began arguing with him on understanding the meaning of the Sanskritverses. I gave him the translation of mantrapushpanjali. He was impressed. But he was unhappy as I gave up the normal rituals one byone. With some persuasion he had my thread ceremony. But I don't wear thesacred thread any more. At one point he thought that I had become a 'nastik- an atheist. But when he heard me reading the full text of srimadbhagavadgeeta after myuncle Jagganath Kamat expired, he changed his impression. "there would be problems, it is Ok now since you've married Melinda" he saidwhile blessing my wife. But I knew that he was somewhat unhappy. He wasworried about my younger sister Nilima's marriage after I married aChristian. In fact we as a couple were avoided like a plague for several years , likeuntouchables by all those near and dear, who were afraid that their sons anddaughters would not find any match within the community ( and caste). it wasonly after they took care of their matches that "diplomatic channels' wereslowly opened. That was a face of the society which I had failed torecognise earlier. My father could not offer any rational explanation of these taboos,unwritten codes.. as we were suffering...he understood my despair but oldage did not permit him to do anything...at least he did not disown a rebelson...Due to family objections me and Melinda had to leave the house on the day ofour civil registration. A friend arranged accomodation for us. We had tobuild our nest from nothing, stick by stick...But we continued to interact with him. I gave him the books which he had noopportunity to read earlier. These included Dnyaneshwari, Tukaramachi gatha,Dasbodh, translations of major Upanishads. He immersed himself in reading these texts in the final phase of his life. Then my sister Nilima married John Eric Menezes. The almighty had taken careof divine justice. It was good to have John as my brother in law. He is very cultured and joinsus in annual chavath family get together. My father taught us self respect-swabhiman. He used to say"baithana to aise baithana ki koi na bole utth. bolna to aise bolna ki koina bole zooth'To educate and feed a large family he slogged without rest. If he were tomiss the last bus to Calapur-he would walk from Panaji to st Cruz even whenit rained. He abhorred all types of self declared Godmen. They are frauds, he used toproclaim. I see his point now in the growing spiritual market.After he completed 80 years, he began losing his eyesight. That was the timeI began interviewing him on family history. Our discussion turned to spiritual matters. I spent several evenings with him discussing vedanta. Then I lectured him on "tatvam asi", "aham brahmasmi' and Adishankaracharya...He was impressed by Tarkatirtha Laxmanshastri Joshi's essays... now he wasbeginning to get other dimensions of Hindu religious ecosystemI read to him some of my deeply spiritual poems...at that moment I didn'tknow that his death would compel me to write a few more in future...The bond which could never really develop in earlier years had begun todevelop..but it was already late..He knew that I was impulsive, rash, arrogant, self righteous, boastful,emotional, narcissistic...But he also knew many other qualities..He had tremendous faith in astrology. He used to practice palmistry(hastasamaudrik)..while I debunked it before him...It seems that my grandmother had told him that I was born a 'kuladipak'(light of the family) as predicted by Comba, Margao's Ghateshastri, thefamily astrologer at my birth. My father seems to have believed in my predicted 'karma'. He left no stoneunturned to support me, my education. I was the luckiest child in wholefamily. After 40 years of chain smoking it was difficult for him to give it up. heused to agree with us when we urged him to quit smoking-but he used tosay-Ata tajo vhad rukh zala, ropo aaslo zalyar humtunk yetalo'. But he didquit and invited withdrawal symptoms...we knew that he was slowly sinking,he created alarms on several occasions but he came back...he had excellentwillpower...till his last day he worshipped, did bhajans, sang the aartisand abhangs and took meal only after the puja...His end came in the morning at GMC when I was at Nanutel Betalbhatim,participating in a conference. I was not aware of his serious condition whenI had reached the hotel...Till I finished my talk, organizer Dr. Rajendra Hegade did not give me thenews. Then he took me aside and told me. It was an earthquake....Same evening I had a book release function at Kala Akademy which wasimpossible to cancel. News had not spread so there were no condolences, Imanaged the function and then rushed home to console my weeping mother whois now my last link to everything I cherish..."to gelo" my mother said "Ata to kednach discho na'-it was her way todescribe the void left behind for her. She too had struggled 18 hours a dayfor 43 years to raise his nine kids. I saw the mortal remains of my father only next day. My father loved nature, all types of plants. His only weakness was the localmushrooms. On that he would argue with me. I stood for their conservationand he wanted consumption. Everyday without fail he would water the sacred Tulasi (basil) plant infront of the house and offer prayers. I could see him taking care of theplant in spare time. The plant had grown tall and thick . But just a few weeks before his deathit suddenly withered and died. My brother planted another one in that place.We forgot about the dead Tulasi plant and its' disposal. At the Hindu crematorium Panaji, my brother Ramesh handed over some woodensticks to me. "put these on the father's pyre' he said.I looked at them- and asked him what are these, this is not sandalwood...My brother said without any emotions-' you know, these are pieces of thedead Tulasi plant. Father had cut it into pieces. He had told mother that incase of his death they should be put by all of us, his children on his pyrebefore it is lit'I was speechless. Tears were welling up in my eyes. But I controlled themfor some other day. My father carried the mystery of Hinduism with him. I have still not foundany answer to what he did and why he did it. He had attended hundreds ofcremations. I know that I have failed him in refusing to become like him-afully devout Hindu. We were generations apart as Hindus.What tribute I could have offered to him?Time heals everything. Sometimes I feel he is around me. I was blessed tohave so caring 'baba'. His was a different generation. He was an exceptional Hindu.My selfishness and false pride had not permitted me to write anything onthe eve of his birthday. This is my first, the last and only tribute to himin cyberspace- a catharsis to retrace the pathos of life as I look at mygrowing and demanding son. I don't know what I would pass on to Nachiketasas father and what he would write when I would not be in this worldanymore. To an extent I agree with Ouspensky" we don't live life, life lives us"Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti!-- Dr. Nandkumar Kamat, GOA * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Goa-launch of the well-received *Into The Diaspora Wilderness* by Selma Carvalho on Aug 29, 2010 (Sunday) at 11 am at Ravindra Bhavan, Margao. Meet the author, buy a signed copy (only Rs 295 in Goa till stock lasts). http://selmacarvalho.squarespace.com/