If he was alive today, he would have been 98. Unfortunately, he went away rather early. He was 69 when he left us on a fateful afternoon of the first day of March in 1997. We, my siblings, Nita, Ajay and Vijay, lost our Pappa. And our Mom who lost her husband.
Certain aspects of Pappa and occasions I have shared with Pappa may not have been seen by any of the presently surviving members of the family for which, as of now, perhaps, I could be the only living witness. Therefore, it occurred to me to pen them down and share a few of those interesting memories before they evaporate from my aging brain. These memories are, in a sense, a part of the wider history of places and times of Pappa’s youth. More or less, I have tried to cover what I know till he was about 50.
This period begins with my first memories of Pappa when we lived near Ahmedabad’s
“Jawaher Nagar” community, of Vasana area. I had just one sibling at that time, my little
sister, Nita. It was a house on the first floor and we had a terrace above. There was a
Limestone crushing plant in the backyard to serve nearby construction activity. The photo
of Ben (reproduced below) was taken by Pappa on the terrace of that building using our
Kodak Box Camera. We had a famous 1950s model “Six-20”. Pappa was perhaps the
first in the family to have bought what was considered a ‘luxury’ gadget at that time.
My second school was in the Wadhwan City, ‘Ladaki Bai Kanya Vidyalaya’, situated just outside the walled city, opposite Khandipol Gate. It was a girl’s school but in its primary school classes, boys were presumably allowed to be enrolled). One might wonder, why was I admitted to that school in particular, leaving other schools. The reason was quite simple, our Faiba (Mom of Sadashiv Mama) was a teacher there and she was our neighbour in the Bari-Road of Wadhwan city. Thus it became super convenient for her to pick me up from home and bring me back after school. I have distinct memories of Motiba (Pappa’s mom, Saraswati Ben), Faiba, Ben, little Nita, tiny Ajay and our huge Wadhwan house, somehow, I have no memory of Pappa in that span of time. Perhaps he was at work, most probably in Mumbai. We followed him soon and my stint at that school was pretty short.
As far as Ben, Nita and Ajay are concerned, I recall them going away by a train from Wadhwan city railway station, leaving me alone with Motiba. She had come to the station to see them off, with me tucked on her waist. Ben sat in the train with Nita and Ajay in her lap. At that time, I do not remember having cried to see mom leaving me behind. Maybe, was too small to know why she had to leave or was under the charm of Motiba. It is well known how unfairly partial she was to me. Pampering and favouring me above all siblings and cousins.
Much later I got to know why Ben had to leave suddenly. It was an ominous message about the serious sickness of her dad, Dr. Shantilal P Shukla. He was on death bed. The Telegram read “Reach soonest, Kaka Serious”. (Ben addressed her dad as ‘Kaka’). His heart had become too dilated and enlarged to effectively pump the blood.
Efforts were made to minimise difficulties of Ben’s emergency travelling. It was decided that while I was old enough, I could be left in care of Motiba in Wadhwan but not Nita and Ajay as they were too small to be cared for by anyone except mother. Their train journey from Wadhwan to Nagpur was 48-50 hours, over 1000 km, of nightmarish stress. No reservation, two train changes (at Viramgam and Surat), transfers of luggage and caring for two infants. Even after having made a very strenuous desperate journey, alas, Ben reached a day late and could not Kaka alive. That miss, that sorrow, remained with her till her own last day.
Our stay in Ahmedabad was a typical story of those times, of the struggle of an average low-middle class family trying to make a living and gradually trying to climb the ladder of social progression.
Our theatre now moves to Mumbai, a ‘dream city’ of India. A go to city for every aspirant in India, a city of opportunities. However, where everything else is available with little effort, a roof over your head is impossible to find. The search for a room to stay was as difficult as a struggle to find a needle in the haystack. A contemporary, 1956 song (Film CID) “Ae Dil Hai Mushkil Jeena Yahan ऐ दिल है मुश्किल जीना यहां, ज़रा हटके ज़रा बचके, ये है बम्बई मेरी जान”, though does not represent struggles what Pappa faced and yet, the lyrics are so catchy that they pop up in the mind when you remember the difficulties everyone faces in the early days of life in Mumbai
Memories of Pappa in Mumbai, takes me next to our temporary stay in a sanatorium near Chowpaty, on the K M Munshi Marg, (exactly opposite the iconic Bharatiya Vidya Bhuvan of Dr. K M Munshi fame). It was our short-term abode, just a foothold while he was hunting for a proper place to stay. Mumbai is a booming city, it was booming then and even now continues to boom. It attracts people from all over India due to its ever expanding businesses and strong economy. They say, “in Mumbai you can get a job and food easily but not a roof to stay under.” Property prices were, and even now, compete for a place among the world’s top ten. Mumbai being an island city, with seas on all sides has no scope of expansion and thereby pushing the land cost sky high.
Pappa was transferred from Ranavav Cement Plant (Ranavav is a town near Porbunder) to their Mumbai head office. The plant, Saurashtra Cement Ltd is a part of huge Nanji Kalidas conglomerate). I was perhaps five at that time and had multiple school changes. Therefore it was up to Ben and Pappa to teach me. They had taught me Gujarati and English reading and writing and now it was mathematics. Pappa wanted me to memorize tables from 1x1 to 30x10. To make sure, everyday upon return from work, he would check my memory status by making me loudly chant tables. It was a boring and somewhat fearful period of 15-20 minutes every evening.
My next memory with Pappa takes me to Malabar Hill, Mumbai’s most expensive hilltop area, where we lived briefly. It was perhaps one of the most fun-time of my early childhood. The directors of Nanji Kalidas conglomerate had a huge house known as ‘Vir Bhuvan’. Across the road was ‘Varsha’, a prominent large residence, designated as ‘Chief Minister’s Official Bungalow’. Today, the old ‘Vir Bhuvan’ stands redeveloped into a new swanky multi-story building and of course still retains the same name
Presumably, we had no possibility of extending our stay beyond a certain time at the sanatorium and as no other place was found, the directors had kindly accommodated us in a small outhouse type of place within the boundary of their bungalow as relief until we found a suitable residence.residence. This made us the chief minister’s neighbour. The “Outhouse” consisted of two rooms. One large, longish and another small squarish. On weekends, Pappa used to take the family to nearby attractions such as Hanging Garden, Kamala Nehru Park, Chowpaty Beach, Babul Nath Shiva Mandir, Ban Ganga Talav, a stone-built large water tank of historical significance, Mahalaxmi Mandir etc. These all places are, near or on the Malabar hill. On weekdays, I watched the Chief Minister’s guards and imitated their drill using a random stick as a rifle on my shoulders.
Next we lived for some time in the Narayan Nagar community in Ghatkopar, ultimately moving into our own apartment in the Sarvodaya Society, Ghatkopar.
Narayan Nagar is itched in my memory due to three unusual things. Smell, sound and sight. As soon as you reach the main entrance gate of Narayan Nagar on the Agra Road, (Now Lal Bahadur Shastri Marg) a nauseating sweetish smell of plastic or nylon hits your nostrils. As you walk further, loud explosions would jarr your eardrums at regular intervals. They were breaking apart a small mountain using gelatin sticks explosives. Once you are within the Narayan Nagar, your eyes would hit neat rows of cubicle-toilets (not for taking showers but just for defecating) to serve the entire community of Narayan Nagar. Today it may appear to be a tough living condition but for me it was fun to peep into those smelly-noisy factories through wire-mesh screen windows, look at the mountain and wait for the explosions, watch debris raining down, climb mango trees at the bottom of mountain at a safe distance etc kept me joyfully occupied. But that is history as currently, that area looks totally reformed. There is no trace of that mountain, the industries have shut down or shifted to designated industrial areas and that entire area of Narayan Nagar plus the empty place created after demolishing the mountain is restructured as a modern ‘Barve Nagar’ area.
Until now all our accommodations were of very temporary nature each lasting just a few months but the next was our own purchased apartment that we kept for next ten years, where we grew steadily, established ourselves, put our roots and had a real ‘Mumbai dream fulfilled’. Our own apartment, the 12, B Sarvodaya Society. (By the way, as of now, all the five buildings, A to E are redeveloped into 11 storied modern apartment blocks. Children of some of our neighbours are still there. I do not know everyone who has continued to retain their property there but a few that I know are Patel Kaka son Hasmukh, Dr, Gala son Dr.Prakash, Rekha Parekh (now as Rekha Oswal), Meshwani uncle’s daughter, Navin Bhai Shah’s son Shailesh, who still own their properties)
Pappa had his happiest moments during the decade that we spent in Sarvodaya Society. Indeed there were painful moments there.He was a sparkling light among relatives and friends and a live wire in the social life of Sarvodaya Society. He played badminton on society court, had week-ends nightly tea parties, played cards with family, took family to winter vacations, had organised yearly one or two picnics with friends, sent us to school trips, drove us to school on saturdays on his Lambretta Scooter, took Ben on a ride to far-off places, took us to cinemas, took up social causes, took interest in politics by inviting political leaders and candidates at home and became polling-agent at the polling booths to ensure election is free and fair.
He was either secretary or treasurer in the management team of Sarvodaya Society and in that capacity had the Gulmohar trees planted on the boundary marked by barbed wire fence. During monsoons, the area around the buildings used to become muddy. Covering the ground using concrete or stone pebbles was an expensive option. He found a genius very cheap solution. He found out from his friend working at a steel foundry (Mukund Iron and Steel Ltd) that tonnes of unwanted slag and burnt coal ash are generated in the steel melting processes and it gets disposed off into a far-off designated landfill. Pappa made a deal with the steel plant and got a few truckloads of slag and ash at a negligible price delivered to the society. He had a knack of using every corner of the house by using even small areas such as what is behind some doors or creating space by making lofts and kitchen tops using steel beam (In those days, using beams was not common as they used only wood) Steel beams made construction sturdy and cheap. Also perhaps he was first at “hanging garden” in the balcony using steel rings for holding heavy clay flower pots, a concept virtually unknown during his time.
A national leader, J B Kripalani visited our home where he delivered an election speech (1962) and so Dr. Agaskar (1967) (Kriplani ji was a close associate of Mahatma Gandhi and a freedom fighter. He was Congress President when India became independent. However, he fell apart from the party and contested election as an independent candidate. Bharatiya Jana Sangh supported him in the 1962 parliamentary election. Agaskar ji was a professor at Ruia College and was a Bharatiya Jana Sangh candidate 1967 parliamentary election).
In those days (and even now) Ghatkopar was a major population center. Literally millions of passengers take suburban trains to work and back from Ghatkopar railway station. However, the Ghatkopar was just another railway station like any other line stations despite being a major urban center. Travelling public from Ghatkopar had a hard time finding space in the trains as they came fully packed from other suburbs. To solve the problem, he thought, why not the station be transformed into a terminus, from where a whole new empty train line could start. This was not only extraordinary thought but almost impossible to implement as it involved huge changes in scheduling, signalling, track modification, financial layouts etc and above all, approvals from Delhi’s central government ministers. I remember Pappa dictating letters to his stenographer (a short-hand typist) every week and corresponding with authorities with passenger statistics, charts, surveys and other relevant facts. At last he was successful in making the station, a terminus from where “Ghatkopar local” still continues to operate. He had many such achievements.
I finished my school in Ghatkopar. I remember, Pappa was using a swiss watch, Nivada, for many years. It was a rectangular steel watch with a steel strap and white dial. He liked it but gave it to me as a reward. Initially I was allowed to wear it during school examinations to keep track of time and ultimately after some years for keeps. The Nivada Grenchen had been a respected Swiss brand, manufacturing since 1926.
We had a 9-band radio (Brand ALBA) that gave us good service. There was no FM in those days, only AM and SW. There were five most popular radio stations among average Mumbaikar. Bombay A (Gujarati chats, songs, news, current affairs and plays), Bombay B (Marathi chats, news, songs, current affairs and plays), Vividh Bharati (Hindi, music, songs and chats but no news and no current affairs), Radio Ceylon (Sponsoring popular Binaca Geet Mala, a very popular Hindi Song program once a week by legendary RJ Ameen Sayani) and BBC. Ben was particularly fond of Vividh Bharati and Bombay B. We used to listen to Adi Merzban’s comedy Parsi drama once a week on Bombay A. When the era of Solid State Electronics arrived, we were among firsts to possess a 4-Band portable transistor radio (Brand Philips).
Besides having happy moments, Pappa had some sad moments that left a permanent mark on him. One of them was a road accident in front of him when his best friend Suryakant Awasthi lost his life. Avasthi kaka was on a Vespa Scooter, just ahead of him on the agra road, Pappa was a few hundred metres behind on his Lambretta scooter with Ben as pillion rider. A neighbour’s wife lost her life in a fire incident where he was the first one to notice smoke coming out of a bathroom window. He was first to reach the spot but was too late to save Leela Ben. Having personally witnessed these gruesome incidents left him wondering at the meaning of life. Also he was sad that his elder brother had to leave his job and look for a new assignment in Mumbai.
Nita and I were admitted first into a government primary school until grade 4 and then were transferred to private school. Me into Ramaji Assar Vidyalaya and Nita into Rashtriya Shala. The Ramaji Assar was a Boys and Girls mixed school and the Rashtriya Shala was a Girls only School. We had no school bus and for many years Ghatkopar did not even have city bus service. Ajay’s era was a little more advanced. He was admitted into a private convent from first grade, Fatima Highschool. He had a school bus. Vijay was pretty young. His schooling began later on from our new and bigger house in a central Mumbai suburb of “Matunga Road”
Once I was in highschool, with Pappa becoming busier at work, he hardly spent time on teaching us but got us a lot of books and subscribed to many Gujarati and Hindi magazines such as Zagmag, Parag, Akhand Anand, Navaneet Digest. Also he had subscribed to a reading club from where he got us every week literally tens of English and Hindi magazines to read and return. This kept us busy reading many things.
There was one summer vacation when Pappa and I stayed alone in Sarvodaya Society. Not sure what was the occasion but Ben, Nita and Ajay had gone to Ahmedabad or Wadhwan and we had to remain in Mumbai. Pappa wanted to pleasantly surprise Ben when she returned. Hence, he had bought a ceiling fan (Crompton) and had himself installed it just in time to greet Ben when she returned. During those days, while cooking the food he taught me how to cook some basic dishes (Thepla, Khichadi, Dal, Bhat, Shaak, Tea, Boiling Milk, Making Curd etc). Coupled with the teaching of Ben in shopping for Shaak, (checking tenderness of Bhinda, Guvar, Turia, Not to buy big sized Potatoes, ensure that Karela, Paraval and Tindora are not ripened, get 5-paisa worth of Kothmir and some complementary Limda na Paan every time we buy vegetables, Bananas to be neither too raw nor too ripened etc skills), I enjoyed my status as an apprentice-cook while Pappa was the main Chef. What I enjoyed most during that vacation, as probably every child does, was to stay alone without supervision. By the way, Pappa also played cook during Sarvodaya Society picnics to Vihar Lake, Pawai Lakes etc.
26th January, Our constitution adoption day, popularly known as Republic Day, used to be a memorable day in the society’s calendar. In the fifties, it was celebrated very differently from today's more sombre celebrations. All prominent buildings on arterial roads, landmarks and icons were decorated with festive colorful lightbulbs. The night was bright with a colourful glow. Thousands of people thronged the roads, had fun, food and general merriment watching the meticulously arranged millions of colorful lights. It was on the shoulders of Pappa and Awasthi Kaka to arrange a truck on which our entire group, men, women and children rode with, fully supplied with snacks such as Kachori, Ganthia, Chips etc. Such a celebration was not only an occasion to enjoy, it also instilled the spirit of democracy and rule of law in the early years of a country that had gained freedom from the colonial rulers. In the downtown Mumbai, they had decorated almost entire area of Nariman Point, Marine Drive, Fort, Malabar Hill and landmarks such as Bori Bunder (VT, now known as CHS Terminal), Sachivalaya, ESSO and STANVAC petroleum companies’ headoffices, LIC offices, Dena Bank, Bank of India, Western Railway HQ at Church Gate, Taj Mahal Hotel, Gate Way of India etc. The practice of this type of joyful celebration was discontinued in sixties due to the need felt for austerity in view of wars (With Portuguese for Diu, Daman and Goa and with China for ‘NEFA’ (North-eastern states of Assam and Arunachal), economic crisis and food shortages.
While in Sarvodaya Society, Pappa and Ben used to organise Sharad-Purnima celebration every year on the terrace of our building under a bright white full moon. It was a fun time with Garba and threading needle competitions. The celebrations ended with a midnight snack of Dudh Paua, Kachori and potato chips - all home made.
Curiously, I do not recall if we had any major Navaratri Garaba or Dandia events but do recall that Navaratri was celebrated by small school going girls by visiting neighbourhoods, singing Goddess Amba Garba at every door and getting small gifts like 5-paisa coins, peanuts, sweets etc at every door, everyday for all nine days of Navaratri. Nita also used to go in a group with her friends, carrying a small earthen pot with lighted Diya in it. It was fun.
Pappa took us every year to a different place for our Diwali/Christmas vacations. We made a trip with family to Pune in 1962 just after a devastating Mula-Mutha dam burst when floods had played havoc in Pune. Also we made a trip to Matheran. Pappa had a knack of doing unconventional things, otherwise who can dream of securing a reservation for a week’s stay on a train camping coach at a railway siding of a station. Nashik and Tryambakeshwar were perhaps favourite of Pappa because we made at least two trips there while we were at Ghatkopar. In 1965-66-67 we could not go anywhere for vacation due to Vijay’s Polio ailment, Pakistan War and my SSC exams and Dada’s stay with us when he worked for a textile mill at Lal Baug, Parel.
Every day Pappa wore well pressed clothes, a necktie and polished shoes to work. Once we bought a scooter, he took it to work everyday. I remember him taking me to his work. His colleagues treated me like a VIP, teaching me to use a typewriter and other office gadgets. I know that even elders do not know how to punch holes exactly in the center of the paper edge and how to remove staples from papers using a stapler. But thanks to Pappa taking me with me to work, I could learn these very early in my life. I felt a sense of pride watching Pappa at work, giving dictation to stenographers, phoning people and executing his tasks. This was more often at Saurashtra Cement (Nanji Kalidas Mehta Conglomerate) and not so frequent at Synthetics and Chemicals Ltd (Kilachand Dev Chand conglomerate) and just once in Premier Automobiles (Walchand Hirachand Doshi Conglomerate. Of course I was no longer a small child when Pappa had taken up jobs at Kilachand and at Premier.
While at Synthetics, he once had to visit their plant in Barelly city of UP. And he had to travel there by air. It was fascinating to hear from him as to how the plane overflew our home and had seen our clothes drying on line. We too were so excited that Pappa was flying. I knew what airline (Indian Airline), what type of aircraft (It was a twin rear jet engine French Caravelle plane) and what was the arrival time of the flight. Therefore, I was on a watch out for the flight and I did spot it as the flight path was just above our house. The aeroplane was distinctive due to its tail engine and can be easily spotted by anyone. We could see every aircraft passing over our home as the flying altitude was very low, being just about 10-12 kms from the airport.
Pappa had lost his dad when he was young. He studied BSc, Law and Accountancy, (He had to leave LLB and Chartered Accountancy half way due to pressing family needs) But from what he said and did, he loved Law and Accounts Book Keeping. He used to passionately say that he should have been a forensic accountant, a chartered accountant who can discover irregularity in books. He was like Sherlock Holmes when it came to scrutinising books.
Among his siblings, he comes out as adventurous, the only sibling who dared to migrate far from home for work and raise a family on his own. In his days, Mumbai was what is Europe or America for us, a dream city.
As the family grew, we bought a bigger apartment in the central Mumbai area near a railway station called “Matunga Road” and felt proud and happy. It was slightly above our means but we managed with some loans. The Matunga neighbourhood was not posh but certainly the living standard was above that of Ghatkopar and it indeed put some strain on us. Our home was in an apartment block known as Dhana Laxmi Society. Nita, Ajay and Vijay and I continued our education by enrolling into schools and college.I was admitted to D G Ruparel college near our new home. Nita and Ajay (English Highschool) had their schools a little away in the next suburb, Dadar, and Vijay started his school that was very close to our home (Kasturba Mahila Mandal Shivaji Park Lion School). Later on for higher education, Nita joined SNDT university, Ajay joined Commerce college and Vijay joined Pharmaceutical college. Here, in Matunga we did not see any of the Ghatkopar society warmth. There were no picnics, no Garba, no Sharad-Purnima and no weekend tea parties. We, especially Ben, missed Ghatkopar big time. We, mainly Ben and I, kept visiting Ghatkopar regularly.
Life at Dhana Laxmi too had its ups and downs. Here too Pappa had joined the Society Admin committee to run the affairs of members. Also he took us on winter vacations to Ajanta-Ellora Caves, to Daulatabad Fort, to Mahabaleshwar, to Panchgini, to Nashik, to Tryambakeshwar etc during our stay at DhanaLaxmi.
When we had been to Mahabaleshwar, we had taken our Kodak Bax Camera. At the Bombay University Club House, I became a member of the university photography club and immediately saw this trip as a great opportunity to experiment with some photographic tricks. In the initial trials at multi-exposures on film plates, I had many failures when mistakenly I had exposed the same spot in the plate twice without changing the improvised flap.
While everything was generally going on fine, politically, India and Mumbai faced many difficulties. The Labour movement, led by socialist leader Datta Samant, had organised many strikes, industrial action and general unruliness. Many industries, Textile Mills, and even Pappa’s Premier Automobiles, were threatened with strikes and lockouts. 60 mills were locked out as the owners had no money to pay for additional demands made in terms of Bonus. About 2,60,000 workers lost jobs due to permanent closure of some industries. That apart the refugees from then East Pakistan, the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation war etc made life more strenuous. To make matters worse, Pappa lost his mom (Our Motiba, at Wadhwan) and his eldest brother (L G Shukla, our Dada). Dada had a massive heart attack and suddenly lost his life while visiting our Matunga home. Dada was more than his brother, he was almost a father figure for him. This loss literally shook him. He was never the same thereafter. He was very very sad. Nothing could console him. The last straw to break his back was the strike and lockout of his company, Premier Automobiles. This happened on 16th December 1978, just one month of my going to Dubai. It was a time of great stress and strain. Ajay’s wedding was on cards, its expenses and Vijay’s education expenses were weighing on Pappa’s mind. He hardly smiled, he hardly wore any pressed clothes, did not shave and was a perfect picture of gloom.
However he picked up a habit of reading and had read many books written by Swami Ramdas, Swami Chinmayanand ji, Swami Shivanand ji etc and had taken to listening to Morari Bapu’s lectures on Ramayana. He used to follow him to every city and village to listen to his speech. Morari Bapu and Chinmaya Ji personally knew him. As he knew Sanskrit, the books on Upanishads were easy for him to grasp and he had memorised many Sanskrit stotras. His everyday morning pooja verse, still in my ears is Vishnu Sahasranamam: “शान्ताकारं भुजगशयनं पद्मनाभं सुरेशं । विश्वाधारं गगनसदृशं मेघवर्ण शुभाङ्गम् । लक्ष्मीकान्तं कमलनयनं योगिभिर्ध्यानगम्यम् । वन्दे विष्णुं भवभयहरं सर्वलोकैकनाथम् ॥” and the evening prayer, Rama-Raksha Stotram: "चरितं रघुनाथस्य शतकोटिप्रविस्तरम् । एकैकमक्षरं पुंसां महापातकनाशनम् ॥"
Interestingly, when he visited Dubai with Ben in 1981, things took a somewhat pleasant turn. A friend of mine (Bipin Bhai Bhagat) could arrange a temporary job for him as an accountant at a corporate HQ of a local supermarket chain known as K M Brothers. These few months in Dubai were again a very happy time for him. We bought new clothes and shoes for him and he began wearing them. He shaved and looked charming as in his earlier days. His smile returned on his face. Upon getting his salary, guess what did he buy first? Gold ornaments for Ben. 4 golden bangles and a necklace.
Matunga house saw all of us siblings getting educated, getting married, birth of Pappa’s grand children, Utpal, Unnati, Jay, Nipun, Tulasi, Yesha, Preksha), Pappa’s heart attack, death of his mother (our Motiba) and of his eldest brother (our Dada), visits to Dubai, Cancerous growth in his lower jaw, chemo and radiation therapy and ultimately his death on the operation table on 1-3-1997 when his 3-hour surgery, though was successful his anesthesia proved an insurmountable obstacle to overcome. Pappa was cremated at Shivaji Park Cremation ground on the sea-shore. His ashes were scattered in the Godavari River. All of us, the four siblings, had travelled by road to the holy town of Nashik on the banks of holy river Godavari to scatter the ashes and to have a dip in the holy river.
In his short life he had achieved many things. He was a man with ideas. He had many skills. He could find out of the box solutions. He had courage to express and live as per his convictions. He had faced many challenges and had come out of it. He was good at English, Gujarati and Sanskrit. He took upon himself to take initiative to resolve matters for the family based on truth and convictions. He was a perfectionist in terms of maintaining accounts and book keeping, almost fanatical at it. Now his memory remains with us to cherish.
12th January also happens to be the birthday of Swami Vivekananda.
