In the memory of my father

My father died last month (4th Nov,07) after prolonged illness at a tender age of 80. Our whole family was with him at hospital during his last days. He died amidst wife, sons, daughters, grand sons,grand daughters,sons in laws , daughter in laws,friends and other relatives.

 

This is a rare occasion in everybody’s life. When we enter into life everybody laughs except the baby. Then this small baby grows, becomes a kid, dreams, becomes a man, enters into family,the family grows. As the time moves the man spreads over the family like a big umbrella. This was my father.

 

Move another forty years, and my father was a long shade now, standing like a big banyan tree. People used to flock around him , used to have some chit-chat with him and then moved on their path. Some times Panchanan uncle used to come to him. Together they talked about current news and old days.

 

When I go to Howrah ,I always used to sit beside him and I felt the warmth of long love of him. Like a morning sun cheers the day, His warmth used to make me blush. My daughter used to tease me for that.

 

Life is no fare game. But he, who lives up those problems becomes a real strong man. In his life he was born in a very poor family , Had faced all sorts of problems but he out lived all the problems and gave his family a long list of stories to relish on the family dining.

 

He was a very humble and pious man. I never saw him going to any temple for offerings but he never returned any beggar empty handed from his door step.

 

He was never fond of traveling. The longest journey he made from home was upto Jagannath Puri seventeen years back and that too after tons of wooing by our family.

 

His passion was gardening, There is lot of open spaces around our family home which he turned into a beautiful garden. You name any tree and that is there. His latest is a sandal wood tree, planted last year. There was a teak wood tree which had to be axed because of extension of our family home. That day we saw him crying.

 

Today I cannot see him around but when I sit in the garden ,I hear the mummer of leaves I know he is there between the leaves , between the flours , He is everywhere. His lime tree is now full of fruits. The golden color limes are swinging in the breeze.

 

Baba, I know you are here in this garden. Every leaves are bearing the sweet and loving touch of your kind hands. You are in us, you are in this whole place.

 

The saddest part of life is not in the act of dying but in failing to live a true life while we are alive. If that is true then My father has lived a full life. He lived up all his energy,capacity and power to live a fully enjoyable life.

 

My father was a silent leader. He never blamed anybody , never raised any hue and cry. He worked silently and honestly in raring his family. Great leaders are those who work when no-one is watching because leaders take responsibility for the result they generate.

 

 

The main purpose of life is to find a cause which is bigger than your life and give your life to it. In his difficult days his sole purpose was to feed his four children , parents , educating them properly and making them well established in life.

 

He did well fulfill his purpose of life before he died peacefully. Every body will go some day but very few can go so gracefully like my father.

 

Our entire locality lined up during his funeral procession. The traffic movement stopped for a while. Alive ,my father would have felt very shy of causing such inconvenience but he was laying there peacefully. He was the last of his generation in our locality. With him a whole generation of old people in our locality is gone.

 

life is something like a sort of splendid torch which one has got to hold up for the moment and one would want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

Legacy which caries a man long long after he is gone.

My father did just like that. It is now on us to carry his legacy in times to come.

 

With deep respect to my father Sh. Biswanath Bera

 

 

S Bera

NTPC-Mumbai

 

http://berasomnath.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/08/my-father.htm