Showing posts with label Jibrael Jos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jibrael Jos. Show all posts

Friday, October 18, 2013

R G Kulkarni : My Grandfather

Context : Written Kruthika Kulkarni, Christ University, Certificate Course History of Scientific Discoveries -2013

When people talk to me, they say that I have got my grandfather’s brain. I was 5 years old when he passed away but there are many things around me that help me connect to him every day. So for the next few minutes you are going to see how he is there for me, right next to me, walking beside me through this life.
If I were to prioritize things, my studies hold the highest place in my life. This is where my grandfather, Late. R.G.Kulkarni comes into role. Born in a poor family in Hallur, he always found scriptures interesting. Forget about higher education, his family could not afford an end’s meal. He was lucky to obtain a scholarship from Dharwad University with eminent professors like Gokhale to teach. He took up M.A (Kannada) right after undergraduate course. But the scholarship only paid his fees. It did not fill his stomach. I remember the pain in my grandmother’s eyes when she said “He only ate one meal to pay for his books.” With all these difficulties he obtained a degree and not just that, but topped the University leaving behind people who were to become great poets in the near future.

With a degree in hand and passion for teaching he went in search of a job. He worked as a Kannada Professor at Sathya Sai College, White Field and in no time became the principal. All along the way, money and power never meant anything to him. If something was important, it was ‘Knowledge’. When my mother married his son, they shifted to Bangalore and he worked at Vijaya College where he retired in the later years.
 
My grandfather was a super hero to me. It’s because he could carry books with minimum of 1000 pages everywhere he went! I remember telling him once, “Thatha, someday I will read every book you have read and in face break your record “. Today when I enter his library I realize that I will never be able to as voracious a reader as he was. Well, it’s no more a library since most of the books are gone with him.
 
He was not just a great teacher, but a writer too. He was one of the loyal students of Jnana Peetha Prashasti winner D.R Bendre. His pen name was ‘Sakshi’ which represented how much he owed to his soul and to the truth.  My parent’s wedding card had a poem written by him. I wanted to know its meaning. So I took it to my Kannada teacher in school. She read it and said “The Kannada is too impeccable and of such standards that I need some time to understand it myself!” To state a newspaper about a similar incident during his University days, “Such were his sweet atrocities on the minds of the people who claimed to know everything”. Now what creates a sense of pain is the fact that he passed away a month before the publication of his first book on a large scale.
 
People always taunted about his ways. He was one of those who let their wives decide for the family while he used to lose himself to the world of books. Now no human is perfect and he wasn’t either. His family needed more time than what they got. But over the years he had built a separate world for himself.
I loved spending time with him. I am not one of those with fair complexion while he is as white as milk. As a child I used to always ask him “Thatha who is fairer?” . his reply might be a shock to you. He used to say “Me”. My grandmother used to say “She is only a child. Can’t you just lie to her?” to which he would say “Always stick to the truth.” Now this might seem a little rude to you but it is what constitutes most parts of my morals. I am not saying that I am a descendent of Sathya Harish Chandra but honesty plays very important role.
He always said that we should never lie to our self. Because deceiving others might be a mistake but deceiving your soul is a sin.
 
All of this might have made you think that he must have been a saintly human tending to perfection. But there was a fun side to him too. My dad told a story about him. He once drove to Mantralaya which is like 385KM from Bangalore on a bike. Now that must have been a hell of an experience. Being an NCC cadet came handy. He was full of adventure and no one ever doubted that.
Though he indulged in books all the time, he had time to spend with us-his grand children. We are 5 cousins but he was closest to my sister and I because we got to spend more time with him (He lived with us).
 
The room which had his books was like a dungeon. Books piled up everywhere; there was hardly any space for anything else, not even a human. When he passed away many institutes came over to our place to buy those books that had great value but out of publication. Today I realized that letting those books be sold is like selling a fortune at a half price sale. No, I am not talking about the money. It’s what those books held in them that matters. The knowledge of eminent writers and the precious notes of my grandfather were like an icing on the cake.
 
What makes me write about him? It’s the dream of excelling that gets me close to him. He had a dream of being bestowed with knowledge and he knew that hard work is the only way and that’s what makes me want to place him on the pedestal. It’s his stand on virtues that gives me the strength to live. It’s his unmoved determination that moves me. That reminds me that I have dreams too. People say that he left his intelligence as a fortune to my sister and I but they exaggerate. Though it hurts me to accept this face it also gives me the courage to actually be worth the glory bestowed on me even before I have proved myself.
These might seem really mesmerizing things which are found only in written work. But for 19 years this is the role he has played and I had left it unspoken until this assignment came across which brought in a realization along with it- my grandfather is my ideal of man.

'Pops' My Grandfather

Context : Written by Rochelle D'Souza, Christ University, Certificate Course : History of Scientific Discoveries - 2013

Music expresses that which cannot be said. It is to the soul what water is to the body.
- Oliver Wendell Holmes

A short ferry ride across Fort Kochi (in the lovely district of Ernakulam, Kerala) and Vypeen greets you with her usual best – the cries of the gulls mixed with the scent of the morning sea laced with salt. The magic begins as soon as you take the cobbled narrow street; your ears resonate to a high-pitched, soulful and extremely unique tune floating through the air. Follow the song and you will reach an old beautiful house, to the source of the magic, Wenceslaus Roy D’Souza, a 93 year old, or rather, young man, known to all as Uncle Winnie and to me as ‘Pops’, my grandfather.

Music for me and my family is something that flows through our veins and trickles down into our very souls. A normal Sunday afternoon with my family comprises of some good food, a lot of laughs and that much needed jam session with my aunts and cousins on guitars and vocals, the younger members of the band, including me, standing up on a table pretending to be back-up singers with our little shakers and tambourines, and in the middle of it all Pops and Dad, all singing our hearts away. We were raised and nurtured on music by my very own Grandfather to whom I owe all my musical talents and whose absolute love and dedication for the art is nothing short of inspirational.

Pops love affair with music began while he was attending a wedding back in the 1930’s. during the reception her heard a record of Jimmy Rodgers playing in the background. “I still remember the song, it was called ‘Mother the Queen of my Heart’” reminisces Pops, a then closeted musician, was newly introduced and instantly fascinated by the fine Alpine art of yodeling. Yodeling is a form that involves singing an extended note which rapidly changes in pitch, a form of Alpine folk music used as a method of communication between herders and their flock.

Although learning to yodel on your own isn’t exactly a cake walk his ‘never say die’ attitude to everything life throws up helped him overcome the hurdles. His biggest critique was his own father who deemed his yodeling attempts as ‘a dog howling’ recalls Pops smiling.

With constant practice sitting alone at the beach to avoid interruptions and with the training in singing he has with the Cecilian choir in his school days he perfected his yodeling. Pops life took an unromantic turn far away from his beloved guitar and yodeling when he left home to join the British Indian Army as a part of the Royal Army Medical Corps. The free spirited man that he is, Pops had more than his fair share of adventures during his service including a singing stint as a jailbird. Today he recalls this experience with a smile.

It was his sister’s wedding and he wanted to return home for a few days. He was stationed at erstwhile Bombay and his application for leave was rejected by his stern British sergeant who said “Dammit! You’re in active service!”. “But he gave me some money to send home to my sister as a gift. At that moment I thought ‘This is my chance’ I took the money bought civilian clothes and left Bombay hopping on to the first possible train from Mazagaon station. But the moment I got off at Cochin Harbour Terminus I was arrested and court marshaled by the court police. It wasn’t too hard for them because they already knew where I was going.” He laughs.

“I tried to escape because I missed my mum and I missed my music” he says.
In 1946 he left the army and returned home to the family and his beloved guitar and from then on it has been a beautiful journey for Pops. Today he lives a season symphony with his wife Verena (my grandmum) four children and a dozen grandchildren all of who sing and play at least one music one musical instrument.

Although age has caught up with the ‘youngster’ slowing him down quite a bit he remains a free spirit, he still yodels and sings whenever possible especially at family get-togethers where he in his own words “belts away a few numbers!”

And what does he feel about today’s music and the current crop of artists? He still prefers the music of the good old days but admits that some of the new numbers get his foot tapping. His advice to us young lovers of music is to keep following our heart in our melodic journey. “I’d like to tell the youth of today to carry on singing and making good music because after all music is a language that has no borders, no limits and the possibilities are endless.” He says

Puri Aloo


Context : Written By Shalini Nagarajan, Christ University, Certificate Course History of Scientific Discoveries -2013

Puri Aloo. That’s what enticed my grandfather into joining the Indian Army. At Chennai in 1949, pursuing a degree in Economics Honours, he dropped any ambitions towards bureaucracy and the civil service towards the equally prestigious Armed Forces only because the recruitment centre held a placard outside offering “Free Puri Aloo” to the entrants.
Born in May 1928, Apapa as I call him grew up at Arani, a small town in Tamil Nadu. He has often told us of the days his school fees would hardly cover Rs.5 a year. Today you won’t get a decent candy bar for the same amount. To him I attribute my learning of math tables, basic fundamentals of English paragraph writing, my penchant for knowing more about the world and being a simple human being. Apapa is warm, loving, firm and straightforward. He has a way of accepting whatever issue may come his way with no more than a shrug. His deep faith still carries him through what life has to offer.
Time with my grandfather over the years of my childhood has only made my respect and love for him grow with each passing memory. A man of few words, he is able to garner much affection from even a person he may have met for a few minutes. Ever since I have known my paternal grandparents, they have lived in Pondicherry. The people of that little French-style community all seem to be acquainted very closely indeed with them. Their beautiful home will undoubtedly have a visitor almost every day of the week, considering their close-knit lifestyles and utmost care for each other. Pondicherry is the epitome of peace, love and patience to my mind only because of the image my grandparents have created through their revered presence in the town. As I have noticed, the younger folk even consider their blessings as auspicious and holy, gracing their lives with good luck and good spirit.
Apapa has been an avid bridge-player ever since he took to retirement. This is the one game he can play day or night, rain or shine, as long as he has his quorum! Members of the family try their best to take time out from their daily schedules just to play a hand of bridge with him, to satisfy his need of exercising brain power. The game keeps him alert and away from the tendency to be languid. I must also mention how he got me interested in common card games like Rummy and Memory although he kept me away from bridge, thinking I’d get distracted from academics and want to play the game all day, just like him.
Latest additions to the family have given utmost joy to Apapa, who is now a great grandfather. To see him take in the innocence of childhood with a smile on his face and revel in the pride of being the head of such a large, devoted and happy family is overwhelming. He has given each of us so many fond memories that are difficult to put down on paper, but are bright and clear in terms of emotional sentiments. My grandfather, who is now 85years old, has led a life so far of triumph, devotion, pride, strife, honour and deeply-ingrained integrity. Through his years, his successive generations have gathered many lessons of value and are proud of having been led by his guidance.
Father of three, grandfather of five, great grandfather of two, friend of countless individuals, guide to several more, this remarkable man has touched all our lives and made us better for the future we are yet to encounter. I pray for his continued good health so he may live hale and hearty, for he is the bind and the strength that made us know no boundaries.