I have just returned from my hometown, Kanpur, after severing the last remaining physical link with my late parents, with the tangible legacies of my dad and mom. My mother passed away in 1994, my dad joined her in 2017. He left behind a lovely flat in a multi-story development, in which he had spent the last years of his life, lonely most of the time, but content and at peace in his otherwise downsized world.
This flat contained the possessions he and my mom, and we (as children), had accumulated over the years, and not one of them was less than fifty years old! These included British time crockery, a Garrard music player with vinyl records, hundreds of books (mostly mine), furniture from Calcutta and Assam, an assortment of walking sticks. He had hoarded them lovingly, getting them cleaned and polished regularly, for would his children not inherit them some day? They were precious to him, not just because he had laboured to acquire them over a lifetime, but because they would go to his children after him.
That was never going to happen, of course. The flat was being sold, and we all had enough bric-a-brac of our own, accumulated over our own lifetimes, for our own children! Where was the space to take over my dad’s stuff in our metro flats in Mumbai and Noida, where each square foot of space cost Rs. 100,000 and Rs. 10000/-, respectively? So we gave everything away- the records whose music had once suffused the flat with lilting tunes, the books which had made holidays in Kanpur so pleasant and relaxed, the table at which I had prepared for the civil service exams, the dining table on which my mom used to serve the delicious “atta ka halwa” and “gobhi ki subzi” which were, and still are, my favourite fare, the harmonium on which my late younger sister learned her music. All big slices of our past, all indelibly associated with my mom and dad and our childhood. All now gone. I have retained only a few books, one of Papa’s walking sticks, his battered briefcase, and a set of crystal Johnnie Walker glasses, which I had bought for fifteen rupees from the Jama Masjid Sunday market in 1971 and had gifted him for his birthday. They will have to suffice till I retain my memory of him.
The compulsions of “modern” life have no time for the sentiments of the past, these are weaknesses that detract from our algorithm based, market driven vision of a material valhalla. And that precisely is the point of this blog: there is a lesson in my experience, for all of us, all those adrift in the 70+ boat, most of us in sight of the harbour, or the reef, as fate would have it. As parents we spend too much time, resources and emotional capital, and deny ourselves, in collecting things to leave behind for our children. It’s a waste of parental love, a mortgaging of present needs for an envisioned but uncertain future. For nothing we leave behind will endure- the house will be sold (if not fought over), the money in the bank will be divided ruthlessly by some chartered accountant or lawyer and spent on trips to Bali or Biarritz, the clothes will go to charity, everything else will be given away. Nothing will remain but memories, and it is on those that we twilight dwellers should concentrate.. I am reminded of these haunting lines from an anonymous poet:
If I take nothing with me,
May I leave behind something beautiful-
A memory, a kindness, a warmth in the hearts of those I’ve met.
So that, even when my road ends,
Love remains.
POST SCRIPT.
I make it a point never to end any piece on a somber note, lest the reader fling himself off his 22nd floor balcony in despair; and so I must confess that I did take one other object from my dad’s flat- the album of photographs of my marriage with Neerja. (That was in 1977, I think, but I can’t be sure since my long term memory is no longer what it used to be). There were no digital albums in those primordial days, no smart phones; only “still” photos which had to be pasted in bulky albums. I’ve appropriated my wedding album, not just for sentimental reasons, but as an abundant precaution to prove my marriage with Neerja. In these days of “certificate raj” there is no saying when proof will be demanded that I am not living in sin with her. Hotels and OYO have already started demanding this, and the time is not far off when banks, landlords and RWAs shall follow suit. “Marriage vigilantism” will be the latest addition to cow and citizenship vigilantisms. Didn’t someone say that eternal vigilantism is the price of freedom? Better to be prepared, no?
But I’m taking a big risk bringing this album home and reminding Neerja about our marriage. She has had many second thoughts about these nuptials over the last 48 years, about the wisdom of having plighted her troth to me in an LSR moment of weakness. How will she react to my bringing home documented proof of what she sometimes considers the “biggest mistake of her life”? Maybe I’ll hide the album under the dog’s bed. As they say in the Pakistan Punjab – “Better to be Saif than Suri.”
Posted with permission from Mr. Avay Shukla. © Mr. Avay Shukla; Mr. Shukla is a retired IAS officer, a keen environmentalist and trekker. He has authored many books and regularly writes for various publications and websites on the environment, governance and social issues. His blog is – View from [Greater] Kailash. The blog can be viewed at avayshukla.blogpost.com.
Many thanks to CLN for publishing “When only love remains.” It has many perennial messages for me to follow.
My father who was a student of English literature in Madras Christian College (1928) and had collected over 100 books to which he had added few that he bought from some of the British planters, when they left Coorg. He also acquired a lovely revolving bookshelf to keep these books.
I went through most of them and about 10 years ago presented bulk of them to the library of Cauvery College. I retained and still have over 50 good books which included rare books published by National Geographic Society. Most of them we are leaving for our sons and grand children to read (hopefully !!).
Further I have a full precious collection of Swami Vivekananda’s books. I recall my father’s close association with Rev Alfred George Hogg Ayaygaru who taught philosophy at Madras Christian College, Tambaram (1903-38) who was widely known throughout the country. When I visited Edinburg in 1957, I made it a point to visit his wife Mary Hogg and spent a delightful afternoon over tea and a cake that she had specially baked on that occasion. Their teachings were immaculate in content and their encouragement to share and give back to society hold me in good stead all through my life.
Are we an Affluent Community? Our demeanour suggests that we are, buoyed by irresponsible articles titled From Beans to BMWs!
The truth always gets reflected in the corpus of Community Organisations like The Akhila Kodava Samaja, affiliated Kodava Samajas in various cities, CWS, CEF and so on. The reality is that the corpus is relatively small compared to Communities like the Parsis and closer home the Bunts.
So how does that reflect on inheritances? In affluent societies, a substantial portion of wealth created by the individual (other than what was inherited) is earmarked for Charity – within their respective Community or pre-identified causes. The great educational institutions in the West and for that matter in our own country benefits immensely from such endowments. Time for conscious reflection to leave the Planet in a better shape than when we found it!!
Inheritances can be very complex, riddled with litigation and fraud. Also, Elders have paid the price for parting with their property and have become victims of begging for money from their own bequeathed property for their existence.
It would help immensely that the Kodava Samajas provide legal help for proper, safe and responsible drafting of Wills to avoid litigation and maintain healthy family ties.
This article touched me deeply. It’s never easy to let go of the tangible reminders of our parents and childhood, even when practicality demands it.
The way the author narrated the bittersweet task of parting with them, while holding on to only a few meaningful times, captures the reality of many families today. The author rightly says, memory and love remain the strongest inheritance, far more enduring than a physical object.
The lighter postscript about the wedding album added balance to an otherwise emotional reflection. Reminds us that while objects fade, the feelings and values our parents instilled in us will never be lost.
Evokes deep emotions and nostalgia as life goes on. More than “material” inheritance, the “values” that we inherit, absorb, interpret and pass on to the next generation is what keeps the community- at all levels – together and flourishing.
A very meaningful article for the times we live in – nuclear families are the order of the day as affluence grows.
There are many AinMane’s that have fallen due to lack of occupation and could not be maintained by the dispersed families. Many are indeed trying to restore and retain their Family Houses – an encouraging sign.
So many of us will see echoes of our own parents’ homes – now faded, but once filled with life, laughter, and carefully collected objects meant to outlive them. It really captures the quiet heartbreak of letting go – not just of objects, but of entire chapters of life. The memories, the small moments, and the love behind those things stay with us far longer than any possession.
If I take nothing with me,
May I leave behind something beautiful
A memory, a kindness, a warmth in the hearts of those I’ve met.
So that, even when my road ends,
Love remains.
What else does one want?
Such a well penned article especially the ending is classic.