From Father to Son

Life Lessons from Death

When do your first memories form? Difficult to say. My first memory about myself is leaving the house to attend a playgroup close to our house. Then dad plonking me on the cycle to take me to Big school. The next memory is of dad’s studying alongside us kids for his M.E. course. A career in research also meant a lot of self education for my dad. His interest in education extended to his kids. He was the task master who would sit down with you before the exams and check if the concepts were clear. But the fun part of his teaching role was when he organized for visits to workplaces. I remember the visit to ADA, Bangalore, where I was thrilled as a 10 year old, to sit in a MIG aircraft simulator. And another trip to Ador, a welding equipment manufacturer. I learnt a lot more from these visits than I learnt in science class in school.

While growing up, I was very envious of the amazing social life of one of our neighbours. While we had our Bajaj scooter, they had their Fiat car. They were the regular party type. Uncle even had a spiritual interest in the sense that he visited the Rajneesh ashram. My first exposure to Rajneesh was through the audio tapes that used to play in his cassette player. We moved away from the neighbourhood – and we lost touch with them. In contrast, our family, did not have too many friends. But the friends we did – all of them we cared for. And they in return cared for us.

As my parents aged, we kept on inviting them to stay over at our place. But both of them were happy, leading an independent life. I have inherited his genes for ‘marketing’, as my mum would call it. Which is basically a liking to go buy fruits and vegetables from the local market. He moved in to our place, only after mom died. Till the end he drove his own car and electric scooter. This is despite having had 2-3 falls from the bike in the last 3 years. As a family we realized that for him the loss of mobility was much higher than the danger of a fall.

My dad was a self appointed physician. And I think all of us need to be that. After all, no one understands your own body better than you. The doctor’s knowledge about your health is mostly second hand, sometimes third hand. I remember a wisdom tooth extraction. Gazing at the tooth later, I found it in good condition, with no infection. When the other wisdom tooth chipped off, I insisted that it should be filled up and not extracted. It lasted 2 years. Hope that it will make me wise for a couple more.

The last chat that I had with dad was his cribbing about a physician appointment. He did not make it to the appointment. In dad’s case he had been advised a bypass, he managed with stents. The doctors told him to reduce water intake to reduce blood volume, but he realized with that the constipation worsened. He kept his own counsel – and retained his water intake. His philosophy was that a person who cannot go out for a walk everyday was a living cadaver. Quality of life mattered more than quantity. For the first 75 years of life, he did not see the inside of a hospital. His angst for hospitals was justified also by the fact that most of his problems stemmed from a severe lung infection he contracted when he was in the ICU recuperating from his stent fitting.

One of his interesting traits was his inconsistency. He believed it’s Ok to change your mind. That way there are never any hard feelings. When mom passed away, he was not sure about where he wanted to spend time. He spent a few months with my elder sister at Chennai. He continued to maintain the flat that he and my mom stayed in. We have a flat on the second floor, in a building that does not have a lift in it. With his heart condition that option was ruled out. He changed his mind on a lot of occasions, but finally when we showed him a flat in our housing society, which had a lift in it – he made up his mind. He would move in with us, if we moved houses. We did. And he did. Even then he would get nostalgic about his old house. Two days before he died, he was trying to convince my father-in-law, who was also widowed like him, that both of them should stay together in his old house.

His hunger for knowledge was there till the end. His last outing was on National Science day, three days before he died, to IUCAA. He was as enthusiastic as his 11 year old grand daughter in discussing the functioning of telescopes with the volunteers. He ended up staying back for more than 2 hours – which given his poor heart condition – was the equivalent of running a marathon.

His attitude to money is something that all his kids have inherited. He never needed to take any money from anyone. And I am proud that I have never taken a loan – either for business or self – so far in my own life. And he kept himself occupied. He lead an active life. Whether it was taking care of an ill spouse. Or legal battles. Or share market investments. Or regular walks. He did it all. And he did it till the end.

To sum up here are life lessons that he has taught us:

Learning only stops with your final heart attack.

Consistency is the hallmark of a bad learner.

Quality beats quantity in relationships.

Home is the best hospital.

One of my favourite magazines is the Economist. I remember a TED talk on obituaries by one of my IIMC juniors – who thinks you have arrived in life (sic), if you feature in an obituary by NYT – or in my case, the Economist. A lot of newspapers, being very practical creatures, start working on obituaries much before the person dies. My only regret at the end was not working with dad to create a living history. Some of you are lucky to have parents who can help do that. Don’t wait!

Mukesh Comment

Atul, I read a few times what you wrote – this gave me the chance to ponder on what really one needs to feel having lived a full life, just enough to feel a sense of fulfilment, and most importantly the feeling of having added value. Your dad did just that, and from all my past interactions with him (the memories of which have been coming to me so very often the last few days), I can understand how much we are missing this wonderful person. At the end of the day, what matters is the impact you create on the lives of people around you. I think he cared a lot for simplicity, for speaking the facts – though he seemed critical of many things around him (especially politics) that did not seem right to him. As I grew up, your family was probably the first I met where you could engage in long debates on almost any topic, a quality that I see in you as well. I found this trait in my first German boss, Ulrich Richter (Mercedes Benz), but the sad part is that these days, most people do not have the patience for that, and tend to get immersed in their own things. I can understand the tough time you are going through, but the memories of your parents that you narrated reinforces the fact that you had wonderful set of people as your parents.

Remembering Atul’s Dad, Vijay Chheda 

First time, I met Atul’s family was in the end 80’s at their apartment in Gokhale nagar. He was a scientist working at a Govt institute near Dighi and we had interaction related to IC engines. He came across as a very down to earth man with simple living and high thinking.

I did meet him a few times and in between very briefly. I had a long meeting last year when we were to go to party on Atul’s birthday and meeting point was as his apartment opposite Abhimanshree society. Both he and Atul’s mother were taking on challenges of life in old age always smiling and contented without complaining. He was an eternal optimist and was happy to use newly launched JIO with unlimited internet.

All I can say he had a very happy family life and passing away of wife about a few months before on 17 Oct 17, put him into a tail spin and was probably yearning to be with her.