Paddu Athimber by Nandini Ramachandran

Paddu Athimber,as he was called by everyone, as Periamma was AKKA to the whole lot of siblings.His memory was remarkable and he would remember little details and instances: Siddharth is a chip of the old block.

He would remember things that we had done when we were kids and the first sentence that he would utter the minute he saw us was the same even years later.For example when he saw me it would be-Nandini do u still run after and catch butterflies! Imagine being asked this when you are eighteen.And this would be asked with a naughty gleam in his eye! For Mathangi it would be-DO you still drink soda (she loves soda even as a kid, most kids would dislike it)and for Ramachandran it would be-Do you still eat parrot curry.When he was 3 years old he had said parrot instead of carrot!Interesting isnt it.

Dr R Bhaskaran and Prem

We convey our blessings to you all on the occasion of the centenary get-together of Sri. Padmanabha athimber.

Time flies yet memory lingers on. Nostalgia has a wonderful magical impact as it places us in the time machine and transports us back to our youthful days, so full of life and energy. We were the chosen lucky ones to enjoy the company of athimber, akka and the kids, when athimber was in service.

Mention must be made here about the marriage of athimber. Athimber and my father-in law Sri. T.N. Sundaresa Iyer got married at Balavilas on the same day. Kalpaka akka and my aunt/ mother-in-law Rukku akka were cousins.

It was only after my marriage with Malathi on May 21, 1948, our families came into close contact with each other. It was during this time that Padmanabha athimber came down to Madras after serving in North India for a number of years.

I still remember vividly my visit to Waltair where athimber served as the collector.Incidentally I was there for some field training sent by my college as a student. I throughly enjoyed their hospitality. I always looked forward to the visits to Akka's house. An expert cook she pampered me with delicacies and after a hearty meal I accompanied athimber to interesting places.

I recall with joy an incident that took place during my training in the Waltair farm. The Superintendent of the farm was not very kindly disposed towards the students. One fine day athimber came to visit me in my campus. When the watchman opened the gates for the car, the superintendent started shouting at the watchmen and, lo! to his utter embarassement the Collector alighted from the car along with the davali. From that moment a sudden trasformation took place and needless to add that the Superintendent turned into Mother Terasa!

Though born as a grandson of a Deputy Collector (A. Ramachandra Iyer), being a brother-in-law of a collector is a very special status! There is a saying in Hindi.

" Saari duniya ek taraf saala ek taraf." The entire world is no match to a brother-in-law.

Amongst the unforgettable outings with athimber, the safari to Kuruppam and Vijayanagarm forests in the Tamilnadu Andhra border is special. We watched all kinds of wildlife from on top of the machans (tree houses). It was a thrilling experience.

A voracious reader, athimber was very well informed on varied subjects and handled any topic with ease. I always admired his keen intellect and vast knowledge. He had a special liking for dogs and we used to go for walks with his pet Great Dane, Laila. Later the Pomeranian Nushka and AlsatianVikram were there for a long time.

Athimber enjoyed spicy food. He also liked dining out and of course,I have accompanied akka and athimber many a times. They had so much affection for me that even today the boys always visit "Vasu mama" when they come over to Madras.

I congradulate you all for your noble act of remembering your father Padmanabha athimber and have a family reunion. This filial respect will guide you all and I am sure that you will be blessed. Our blessings and best wishes,
R. Bhaskaran

Appa always spoke about his Waltair camp to us and as childen we heard wide-eyed about the jeep rides and the safaris. It was like reading a Jim Corbet book.

Athai and athimber were very affectionate towards us, the neices and nephews. Soon after my marriage in 1972, when I had gone to Bangalore as a young bride, they visited us many times and blessed us. During a trip to Bangalore, Ponnakka patti wished that the married couple should visit Banasvati Anjaneyar and have his blessings. Athai and athimber made arrangements for vennaikappu and took us for darshan. During the journey, we chanted the sloka "Om namo bhagavate Hanumate...." as taught by athai and sang Hanuman chalisa. They were very devoted to Sri Anjeneyar.

Appa has mentioned about athimber's extensive knowledge on varied subjects. once during a converstaion with athimber, we talked about the seasonal fruits. Since I was a Botany student, I started mentioning the description of certain special features of some plants. To my amazement he delved deep into subject with botanical names et all.
With my best wishes for Athimber's Centenary
Prem

Brother-in Law S Viswanathan and Children,Raji, Mathangi and Shobbana on D.Padmanabhan

We wish the centenary celebrations were happening here in Chennai.
Best wishes to all of you. May the unseen. spirit of the dear departed be with
all of you and guide you all.

Athai and Athimber left a little bit of them with all of us and this is a
great opportunity for all of us to bring to memory their days with us.
We are very proud and privileged to have known them and interacted with
them closely. We were all discussing this great event at Palathope KOODAM
and here is a summary of those few minutes of recall:

Vichu Mama: Youngest ICS of his times. Recalls times at "Chandrika",
sister Chandrika and Chami. recalls Laila and her pups.

Raji:: Athimber loved " Maya Bazaar" and always wanted me to sing
"Kalyana samayal Saadam" and other songs and Loved the "Hi Hoi
Thalaivaa" bit very much.

Mathangi: Athimber always called me Soda Mathangi because I was fond
of drinking soda.

Shobana: He christened me " Professor" and always addressed me that
way because I started wearing glasses at a very early age ( thanks to
Kalpathai.).

All of us: His call "Kalpam"," Kalpam " still rings in our ears.
Whenever Athai came to Palathope, she would be followed by a phone
call. " Kalpagam anga vandirkalamma?" He couldn't be without her for
long'

He was always surrounded by books.Athai and Athimber had a special touch
for each of us and that is how they endeared themselves to all.

We are sure their spirit is with all of us even as we are all going
down memory lane.

Best wishes for a lovely Centenary Celebrations. Do post the pictures.
Love from
Vichu Mama, Raji, Mathangi and Shobana

A Poem on my Parents by P. Girdhar Gopal

My father was my ballast that kept me straight
He was my strength, the source of courage
He taught me to do my best , and leave the rest to fate
He strove to give me love but tough love it was
He taught me to challenge the bully head on
He told me that courage would make the bully pause
While accommodation, would abject surrender spawn

His manner assured me that all was well
And if it were not, he would make it so
He told me the difference between wrong and right
He taught me when to yield and when to fight
He was my intellectual mentor and guide
I think of him always with love respect and pride

My love of books came from him alone
When he taught me history and poesy
His love of both showed, and his eyes shone
He made it all look so simple and so easy
He taught me to read essentially by example
Perked my interest and provided me with books so ample


His erudition, to me knew no bounds
I wondered how he stored what he knew
And brought it out timely, spontaneous and true
He drank from the font of the ages
And taught me to read by reading himself
He drank thirstily from the past and from the sages
He left an impression on how a father should be

My mother gave me life
First fed me in her cozy womb
And then in fullness of time, she gently
Pushed me into the world of strife
With help from doctor and midwife
She loved me through her eventful life

When she died it dawned on me
That a mother is like a fruiting tree
That gives fruit, craving nothing back
She loved me without cavil or doubt
Loved because she could do nothing else
Loved me with all her heart, so stout

Loved me despite my serious blemishes
Loved me for myself and myself alone
Without any fuss and without flourishes
She will always be there, in my mind's eye
My source of undying and everlasting love
That limitless love, was a treasure trove
I can never forget her till the day I die
In her death , still my soul she nourishes

I am thankful that they gave me life
Sustained me through youthful follies
Showed me to respect truth and abhor lies
Gave me a compass that showed right from wrong
And taught to protect the weak, stand up to the strong
On this father's day I salute them both
And thank providence for the marriage vows, they troth

Only wish they could have lived for ever
But all good things, they say, come to end
It comes to all, both to foe or friend
But, I like to believe we shall meet again
In that happy hunting ground, where there is no pain.
And souls meet in joy never to part again.

Memories of a dear Brother: Padma Jaishri

Padma Attai’s Memoirs of Pappanna

My earliest memory of Pappanna(what we affectionately used to call him) was, when I was about 5 years old. I was staying with Pappanna, Periamma and Patti (Periappa’s mother, DP's grandmother)) in a Bungalow, on the banks of Cauvery river, in Kumbakonam. Pappanna and Manni had come for vacation from North India.

Pappanna during meals used to insist, that I should have the largest plantain leaf. He used to call me ‘Kutti’.

Anna was very knowledgeable about Palmistry. He used to read the palms of every one. He predicted that my ‘Buddhirekhai’ was very good and that I will do very well in my studies if I continue my education.

During one of their vacation visits, from North India, we stayed with them, for about three months in Whitefield, Bangalore. Periappa, Periamma, Anna(Papanna), Manni and myself had an enjoyable time visiting the gardens, at play etc.

While I was with Periappa and Periamma at Thiruvannamalai, Anna and Manni visited us. I remember Anna, Manni and myself going on picnic to ‘Chenji kottai’.(Gingee Fort)

In later years my husband (Jaisri) and I, used to frequently visit Anna and Manni, while they were living in Besant Nagar, Madras, prior to their departure to US. Anna then used to talk about spiritual matters. He used to recite daily, Lalitha Saharsranamam and other scriptures. He had a good knowledge of Sanskrit and used to explain the meaning of Lalitha Sahasranamam and other scriptures. He was all in praise for the Glory of Bhagavan Sri Ramana.

Anna was a large hearted person with great affection for those close to him. One important aspect of his character was he was absolutely truthful and a person of great integrity who would not compromise on principle, under any circumstances.

Om Namo Bhagavathe Sri Ramanaya

Memories in pictures-Meera Siddharth

I have made a short slideshow about Grandpa using pictures gathered from the family. Please click:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SrK3-N5cGws

--Meera

My Grandfather and Grandmother by Deepa G Gopal

Unlike my older brothers and cousins, I never had the opportunity to know my grandpa well. I remember him to be a kind and gentle man.

When I was two, I could not pronounce the words, Cinderella and Two Bad Step Sisters in the fairy tale Cinderella. I instead pronounced them as Cindida and Two Bad Teps. He used these words, when talking about the story,with me.

When there were problems in getting me out of the adoption home before my adoption, my grandfather took my father, to see his old friend, Mr Govind Narain, who was then Governor of Karnataka, to ask for his help. My father tells me that Mr Narain helped them get me home,with them, almost immediately.

Before the adoption was complete, my parents had to go to court which took four months. In the meanwhile, my grandparents took care of me in India. I have seen pictures of my first birthday celebrated by my grandparents where they invited seventy five people in Madras.

I wish I was old enough to have known them really well, but I feel fortunate that they knew me quite well, as they took care of me. for four months, the way parents would when I was little. I am really proud to have been their grand daughter.

"Papa" As I Knew Him by Indira Gopal

“Papa” as I knew him

“Papa” was quiet and withdrawn almost to the point of being shy with strangers. But to those who knew him, he was kind and thoughtful and always had encouraging and positive advice. He would use anecdotes from his cavernous memory and sometimes humor to make the point. In his later years, I thought Papa related better with children than with adults, whom he generally shied away from. He loved the uncomplicatedness and innocence of children. He loved talking to children and was able to elicit a line or two of humor that reflected their innocence.

Papa used to have regular conversations with the servant maid’s son called Anniyappan. He found him absolutely fascinating. Every morning he used to ask him what he had eaten for breakfast. Anniyappan was just 5 or 6 years old and used to repeat the same answer everyday- pazhaythu, which means left overs. He listened to it for a few days and one day he finally asked him, “when are you ever going to eat the fresh food that your mother just cooked?”.

Papa really tried to make light of everything through humor. When I think about this I wonder whether this was one way of his facing the relentless and unforgiving problems that were dished out to him. He had lost his siblings, his first child while he was still in his Twenties. He had two strokes before the age of 46 and was left with partial paralysis. These were more than what one person could handle. Luckily he was married to “Mummy” who could share them and somewhat lighten the burden.

It was always a wonder for me how he handled his literal “falling from the heavens” when he was hit by two strokes at the height of his career in the ICS. It was one thing having to give up the ICS with all its trappings but yet another to be saddled by physical problems, not even being able to balance his gait without a stick. This must have been most humbling. He somehow managed to hold his head high and keep his dignity despite the adversities.

In his latter days he had made himself a routine with Mummy’s help to get up early in the morning, finish his bath, do his pranayamam for three hours. As far as I can remember it included Lalitha Sahasranamam, Soundarya Lahari and Durga Saptha Sathi. I think Mummy`got him started in this direction but he took it to a whole different level. He had read many original religious texts including the Koran and many versions of the Bible. His skills with languages as far flung as Arabic and Sanskrit helped him become a scholar in these areas. At one point I had heard he had contemplated comparing the Valmiki Ramayanam in Sanskrit, Kamba Ramayanam in Tamil and the Ramanayam in Telugu.

With all that learning and scholarship, he had become spiritual rather than religious. He did not seem to believe in rituals. All he did was light an ooduvathi (incense stick) before he started his parayanam. This could have been a symbol ism for the almighty or for the cycle of birth and death which is the philosophy of Advaita. This had resulted in our late friend Sundarajan, who himself was a religious scholar, commenting that Papa had become “Pure intellect personified”. Watching Mummy and Papa , I realized this was a great way to find peace in our own lives. We feel fortunate they came to America and spent time with all of us.

I feel proud to think back of the stories my father and Papa used to tell us about their Presidency College days together in Madras and their days in London of 1930 sharing digs in Mrs. Paterson’s house. They both did Chemistry together at Presidency College and later met up in London, my father studying and competing his accountancy exams and Papa completing his ICS exams. They had a lot of funny stories to share with us about their mutual friends Mohan and Ramanujam. From their accounts it seemed that they had quite a fun time in London. It must have been quite a bold adventure on their parts to go to London for further studies in those days. They must have been some of the early pioneers in this regard.

D.P. MY ROLE MODEL by Lakshmi Radhakrishnan

D.P. MY ROLE MODEL:

Whenever I pass through Mount road I recollect my pleasant times with my periappa, periamma and cousins at their residence ‘Chandrika”. They had an open house for their nieces and nephews. Kalpakam periamma was an excellent cook and a very warm person. We enjoyed their hospitality. They nourished us with food for stomach and thought. We would listen to his travel experiences in the North India and his shikar with rapt attention.

I’ve heard from Vasu Mama and others about his helping nature. He would go out of his way to help people. Many people owe it to him to their present financial and social status.

My association with my periappa began only in 1960 when I was in college. He was a voracious reader; he read from classics to modern fiction. He is instrumental in introducing me to the world of books. His mastery over English, Tamil, Sanskrit and Hindi and his memory is amazing. He used to quote with ease from Upanishads, Tulsidas, Kabir, Milton, and Shakespeare.

My father and he were good friends and I feel they were members of “Mutual Admiration Society”. Both were of different personalities but the common bond between them was their love for literature, history and their keen sense of humour. When and wherever they met we could hear peals of laughter. Their repertoire of jokes was extensive and they used it appropriate to the occasion. They could laugh at themselves. Many a times their sense of humor irked the listeners partly because they could not understand or they took it personally. This would make this pair more amused!

I owe it to him my love for literature, and Upanishads. He had a Sanskrit scholar teaching him Brahma Sutra Bhashyam, the Bible of Advaita. My natural inclination to learn Vedanta and Sanskrit was strengthened by him. I would recall with gratitude his supply of books to me which he brought from Moore Market, a haven of second hand books at that time.

He was an excellent conservationist. If “charisma is the transference of enthusiasm”then he was the most charismatic person. He would appreciate good food and often ask my mom about pickles. He was able to create a rapport with all regardless of age or social/financial status. His childlike attitude made him dear to us.

I’ve not done justice to my portrayal of him in words. But in my heart I am filled with gratitude and admiration. I can only add a sloka from Subhashitani which describes him completely. “As is the mind so is the speech , the deeds are according to the speech , The mind, speech and actions of the noble are one and the same”

Recollections of Padmanabh Athimber by Malini Ram

Padmanbh athimber, my father’s special friend

By Malini Ram, New York

For the benefit of the extended family, my father is Dr. R. Bhaskaran, known within the family circle as Vasu. He is Kalpaka athai’s cousin (her chithi Ponnakka’s son). My father used to call Uncle. Padmanabhan as athimber and so did I.

My father has narrated to me several incidents regarding his visit to athai & athimber’s home in Vishakapatnam (“Vizag”) as a young man of about 22 years in age (in the late 40s), when he had gone there from Chennai for some training program. My father was thrilled to be able to visit his cousin and her husband, who took very kindly to him. They used to pick him up from his dormitory and take him home. That was the beginning of the beautiful and lasting “friendship” that my father had with his athimber. Athai took great pains to prepare delicious meals for my father who she thought would be missing his mother’s homely meals while at Vizag. My father has told me how he used to look forward to those visits to their home. During my father’s stay in Vizag, athimber would always take my father along during his camp outings. He also remembers the good time he had in the company of his nephews Siddharth (Baba), Ashok and Girdhar (Baby). (My father still calls Girdhar “Baby”). Girdhar has also shared with me his recollections of my appa’s visit to Vizag, when Girdhar was a young boy, and watching an interesting cricket match together.

Padmanabh athimber would always stay at the Cosmopolitan Club when he came to Madras from other places on short visits. He would promptly call my father at our St. Mary’s Road residence and inform him of his visit to Madras. Appa would always eagerly go and meet athimber and they’ll have lunch together in Mount Road.

When Padmnabh athimber and Kalpaka athai moved to Chennai, my father would regularly visit them. I too remember visiting athimber & athai in Madras as well as at their Bangalore residence. In Madras, when I visited them at their residence “Chandrika”, my appa and athimber would be engrossed in conversations, while I’ll be exploring their house and the garden. Chandrika was a grand and beautiful house. I recall listening to very nice trumpet jazz music from their gramophone player, operated by Ashok or Girdhar. They had a pet dog in their house with a Russian sounding name (Lushka or Nushka?) and I used to be a little nervous. Padmanabh Athimber and my father used to calm me by assuring that the dog will not harm me. I also remember seeing some pigeons in their garden. Once I excitedly went back to the room where my father & athai/athimber were conversing and exclaimed “Pura, Pura” in Tamil. Since I could not pronounce the letter “r” properly in baby tongue, I pronounced “Pura” funnily. Whenever I visited them on several occasions afterwards, even as late as into my teens, Padmanabh Athimber would affectionately smile at me and teasingly repeat with eyes wide open what I had exclaimed to him in my baby tongue for “Pura”. He had great memory and attention to detail.

In early 1962 my father was sent by the Government. of India to France for advanced training in his field. Appa had to become fluent in French within a short time. Padmanabh athimber was kind enough to lend his phonograph (gramophone record player) to enable my father to listen to French conversation learning discs which he had borrowed from Alliance Française. This shows that Padmanabh athimber was caring in nature and was interested in my father’s progress. Along with the record player, he also lent a record with very nice trumpet jazz music, which my father would play at the conclusion of his French lessons. My elder sister Premalatha, brother Ravi and I enjoyed listening to this music daily. It was a great treat for us after patiently listening to my father’s French lessons. My brother who was barely 3 years old would excitedly clap his hands and sing the tune along.

Later on when I visited athimber & athai in Bangalore with my family, they took us to a special Hanumanji temple in the outskirts of Bangalore. They also taught us a special Hanuman mantra which they made my younger brother Ravi repeat several times to perfect his Sanskrit pronunciation. Ravi recalls this incident very fondly. My father continues to chant this mantra whenever he seeks solace and peace.

I am happy to be able to contribute to this centenary blog of Padmanabh athimber and thank Girdhar for giving me this opportunity.

Malini

Harsha Gopal's reflections on his grandfather

MY PATERNAL GRANDFATHER

D. Padmanabhan, or “Padmanabhan Grandpa” had a tremendous influence on my life in almost every way. Even in my earliest memories, he was living with the residual effects of two devastating strokes, both of which he had suffered before he had reached his 47^th year. I am now 44, and I think of what his family went through when he had his first stroke at 39. Nevertheless, his mind was vibrant and his intellectual curiosity unaffected by the ravages of these strokes. I stayed with my grandparents through several summers and on many other visits, picking Grandpa’s brain and raiding his huge memory. He literally knew something about everything.

His active youth loomed large in my life, an exemplary Alpha-male who was an expert shot and equestrian, a tennis player and a linguist. He was a man equally comfortable with a British official as he was with a Himalayan rishi. He wrestled a crocodile, shot a cobra on a chandelier, hunted dangerous big cats and fearlessly went after these local threats on nighttime shikaar rides. I listened to his stories with great interest, and learned about everything from Plato to The Upanishads from him.

He was amazingly well read, probably the widest read person I have ever met. He used to take me to the British Council Library in Bangalore when I was a boy, and later to the lending library at the Cosmopolitan Club in Madras. Because of him, I became a fan of PG Wodehouse. I recall discussing with him a Wodehouse essay that I had borrowed from The British Council regarding the disputed authorship of works by Shakespeare. Grandpa already was well aware of the controversy and disagreed that Francis Bacon could have written the plays. I would have many such discussions with him and credit him with my varied interests.

His interests were far wider than most of his contemporaries. Although he excelled in chemistry in his undergraduate education at Presidency College and Kings’ College Cambridge, he later joined the Indian Civil Service, pursued the law and became a magistrate, judge and Collector of Madras. All the while he maintained wide pursuits. His enthusiasm for tennis and bridge spread to my grandmother who studied these diversions with equal enthusiasm. He was a gourmet and she became one of the greatest cooks in my memory. His English was impeccable, but he never made me think that this adopted language of ours is any more important to know than any other language. He also was literate in Tamil, Sanskrit, Hindi and Urdu (he taught me Urdu script, which I have since forgotten), and conversant in other languages. I see much of him in my multilingual children. Although he would say that we don’t speak English in America, he instilled in me an eternal love of knowledge, language and books. Mostly he instilled a love of learning which I have not lost, and which he never lost.

He would often speak of his time in England with great fondness. He was an unabashed Anglophile, but despite that could see the English for what they were, and for what they did to India. I will never forget his anecdotes about playing tennis with Paul Robeson at Cambridge or meeting George Bernard Shaw on the London tube, or his funny stories about his housemate, Mohan, and his other housemate MN Sambamurti (my other grandfather).

Since he was limited in his mobility by paralysis, our activities were cerebral and verbal. My memories of him are of long discussions in which my opinion was as valuable as his. Mostly he used to tell me stories. His favorites were Shivaji and Birbal. Shivaji was one of his great heroes, and he became one of mine. Through these characters I learned about the great and open-minded Emperor Akbar. Grandpa and I shared a great admiration for this illiterate Renassance man. Similarly, we shared a distaste for his great-grandson, the narrow-minded and cruel Aurangzeb. He brought these people into my present world. I became absolutely fascinated by this period in history because of him. I remember doing my own amateur excavations of a Lodi era tomb with my friend Avaneesh in Delhi. When I told him, he didn’t scold me, but listened with fascinated interest at how we sneaked in with a crowbar and unsuccessfully tried to lift a tomb lid. He was my friend and confidant, and loved me unconditionally.

He could meet anyone and could talk with anyone. He didn’t suffer fools well, but he would also never prejudge anyone, and treated people equally. He didn’t worry about caste or social station. There was a Dalit boy who lived near them in Lower Palace Orchards, Bangalore named Anniappan. Although he would kid around and joke with the boy, it was always good natured and it was always filled with love and respect. He developed a great fondness for this boy from a completely different station in life, both in age and social status. All people great and small were deserving of his attention and time. He greeted my adopted sister, Deepa, into his house as his granddaughter without hesitation and with the greatest and deepest love. I have never seen anyone open his heart up as much as he did. Underneath the gruff exterior and the short temper was a kind and gentle soul. He loved all his grandchildren and it was obvious. He loved his sons and their wives, and most definitely he loved Grandma to distraction.

It has been 26 years since his passing, but I still think of him all the time. I see him every time I look at Surya and Anya and their long foreheads (or at my bald pate). I see him every time I open an old book to read about Indian history or philosophy. I think about him every time I play tennis. In fact, he was a tremendous influence on my family joining Longwood Cricket Club this April on his 100^th birthday. My first exposure to both tennis and private clubs was through him. My first exposure to most things was augmented in some way by Grandpa. He taught me innumerable things, and I was a willing and enthusiastic student. It is his view of religion that I hold to this day. He explained it so clearly to me that finally religion and spirituality made sense to me.

He also used to say things that I will always remember, such as “the term ‘American culture’ is an oxymoron.” Although he may not have believed that, he would say it to provoke discussion, and provoke discussion it did. He said things that he knew would make me think. And he was funny. That is what I miss the most. His sense of humour (he would have preferred the British spelling). I still find myself chuckling at things he would say. I miss him and hope that he looks down proudly on the large family that he helped to create, as we look up to him with all our love.

Prashant Gopal on his grandfather

My childhood memories of the stories he told have largely faded. But I can almost hear my grandfather's mumbling, raspy, whisper of a voice that seemed to rise only when he called out to my grandmother in the next room. When he laughed especially hard, his voice vanished entirely and a grin took hold of his smooth, round face. Sometimes, it took him several attempts to spit out the punchline that triggered the silent bought of laughter to start with.

Grandpa was a captivating storyteller. After school, I'd run down the stairs to my grandparents' room in the basement of our house in Chappaqua, N.Y. He sat, hunched over his shortwave radio, adjusting the tuner and bending the antenna to find the clearest possible signal from the BBC. When I landed on the bed next to his chair, he stopped what he was doing and launched into a story, sometimes about his adventures hunting man-eating tigers, an episode from the Mahabharata or Ramayana, or a ghost story (His favorite was the “The Monkey's Paw,” a short story that I remember him telling with long pauses and ghostly sound effects). He was patient when I interrupted with questions that sometimes took us in new directions: Why was Rama's skin blue? What does Nirvana feel like? Have you ever seen a ghost?

His experiences as a judge and hunter in pre-independence India seemed far removed from the man I saw in front of me who was hobbled by multiple strokes and was a deeply religious, vegetarian. But he drew me into that world and made me feel that my own short history was part of a larger family narrative that spanned generations and three continents. He, himself, seemed to be a conduit to the past. Educated in Cambridge University, he retained the demeanor of an upper-class Englishman. I can only remember him in a suit, one that must have been tailored decades before to fit his short, stocky frame.

I wish I could recall details of our many conversations, but they've made a lasting impact on me. Grandpa taught me how to tell good stories, something that has helped me in social situations and in my own career as a journalist. I still feel his presence every time I think about his voice, which instantly brings me back to my parents' basement, the shortwave radio, and the stories that sparked my early imagination.