It has been 10 days since I last saw you smile. The past few days I have been going up the learning curve of the course of life. Having been reading a lot on life and philosophy, I have also been trying to figure out what one really wants from life? Is it money?Peace of mind? Health? Career? Sustainability?Happiness? I read books, spoke with folks, chatted with friends and the more I deep dived, the more confusing it got. And then, on the night of 21st January 2023, the nurse on duty said something and suddenly it all just made sense.
As the nurse took his vitals that night, she said that dad was one of the few cheerful faces she saw there, and I am sure she was not bluffing because it was a cancer hospital. She said he was always in good cheer and smiling. As she walked away, I remembered something a nurse mentioned to me around the time Das was fighting the Big C in 2011, at Cochin. Being subjected to multiple surgeries in 2011, he had been asked to count backwards from 20, multiple times. One of the nurses on duty mentioned that Das would laugh on the operating table and take my name along with my brother’s. He kept repeating or in her words chanting our names until the anesthesia took effect. Clearly, he wanted to survive the ordeal for us. He wanted to be around us for longer and he wanted to ensure that we are both doing really well, before he gave up! In 2018 when he was sick, his motivation to keep living was our elder daughter, Ami. He kept asking about her when we went into the Intensive care and kept talking about her. When I think back today, I think, for him, it was the love he had for his family and a sense of purpose to be around, that really encouraged him to fight and stay alive, just a little longer. And what a battle he fought! He had found his calling long back and to this day, I am still searching for mine.
Today, as I sit on his bed and type this, I miss the frail, old, professor Modas who has done what nobody has done for their children or family. Having lost his wife in his 40s, he raised us single-handedly, carrying all the burdens, trials and tribulations alone. It was no mean feat. He has lived a life truly remarkable and anyone who has been lucky to have met him even once would remember his infectious zeal for life, charm and magnanimity.
My father was a great man or maybe I should say he is a great man because the lives he touched will continue to bear the stamp of his influence.Some of you have known him all your life, some of you he probably greeted during his morning walk, met him at one of his restaurant routines or some of you may have worked with him. knows that my dad lived life on his terms and in many ways died on his terms too.
He always told us he would live till 80-84 as he felt that was the average age of the “family” apparently. In fact, when someone we knew died suddenly, with no prolonged illness or hospitalisation, he had remarked that he wanted to die like that – barely hospitalised (didn’t want to be a burden) and in sleep, with dear ones around. Someone up there must have most certainly said “Thatasthu” at that moment.
On Nov 23rd 2023, just about a month left for his 79th birthday, my worst nightmare started unravelling. The oncologist confirmed what I kept denying the past few days, the cancer was back and it was terminal and advanced. Having decided not to have any interventions, all we could do was to ensure no pain, and helplessly wait. Yet, he did not die when he was a little ill, or when we thought he was bleeding out.Neither did he did give up when the brother was out of town, when the house help had to take off for a week, nor when the kids had their annual day programs. He died as he lived, on his feet, doing everything he put his mind to, leaving no unfinished business, in his sleep, amidst people he loved the most, at noon, on 22nd January 2023. 2 months to the day since he was diagnosed.
Das always said that the opposite of love is not hate but indifference and laziness, so loving meant doing everything one had to do for the ones you love. So he died, loving us, smiling. He died an extraordinary man because there will never be anyone, who could ever match up. I have always known that and been grateful that I am my dad’s daughter- Madri Prasad, D/O Dr Ambat Mohandas. Daughter of a man who spoke up in a world where everyone followed orders and lost worldly positions for it but instilled in anyone who knew him, a sense of purpose and an unflinching desire to do what had to be done.
My father’s gift to me was his craving for knowledge, a need to constantly learn, read, and improve our minds; a zeal for life; a relentless, never give up attitude; a help one and all mind; his conversations and the one thing that is so limited and yet so precious – his time. I miss him and he will always be a part of me, yet, he has made me an independent person who will survive, come what may. So, as I look around the room that was once his, I can smell him, feel him and somehow smile thinking that he must be sitting in a restaurant up above, with my mother, his parents and all the loved ones he’d lost and building his new fan base. He will be remembered for the great teacher, charismatic changemaker, an exemplary father and the most wonderful husband, that he was.
My dearest thaadi, I love you today, forever and I will miss you more than what anyone can ever fathom.
VERISIMILITUDE 