Tribute to a Gentleman

 A Gentleman Passes Away

Tribute to a Gentleman

      Sometimes we don't realise how much we love someone, until that person leaves us forever. The passing away of my father's elder cousin, Madhavan Kutty Valliachan has left me bereft. Never realised that he meant so much to me. 

     He was a veterinary doctor who was passionate about books, people, corals and the Padmanabhaswamy temple. 

     I first got to know him properly when I landed in Trivandrum to do my degree in English in one of the city colleges. I was one of the many country bumpkins who had arrived in old world Trivandrum, from a small town in Odisha, sometime in the 1990s. College was intimidating, bus travel was terrifying, and I was very lonely. I stayed with my grandmother  and my family was far away in erstwhile Orissa. 

       Life in a co-educational college was terrible for someone as shy and self-conscious as me. Ragging in the first few weeks made my life miserable. I was an avid reader but I had no idea about the various genres of literature. The library in our small town was well stocked with books from all over the world. I had read Charles and Mary Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare. I had no idea that Shakespeare wrote plays. So when one of my extremely supercilious and snooty seniors asked me about my favourite books, I said I loved Shakespeare's novels. And she smirked and laughed and put me down royally. I still remember her, her smug arrogance and my deep embarassment. Another one of life's tiny but deeply hurtful episodes that rise to the surface unwittingly, and cause shame and pain.

      I hated college, had no friends to speak of, and the long commute home, on crowded buses, with groping boys and leering men was so tiresome that I really didn't look forward to going to college. 

       Then one day I met my Valiachan on the way home. He welcomed me to his home. So one day, with much trepidation and great shyness, I ventured to visit him. He lived in a heritage property in the old Fort area in the vicinity of his favourite deity - Padmanabha Swamy's abode. The house has stood the test of time. 

        I was given tea and shown his precious collection of Reader's Digests of the vintage era. I used to subscribe to Reader's Digest during my school days. But Valiachan's collection was a treasure trove. These were Digests from the forties onwards. They were a collector's item and an owner's pride and I was invited to partake of the sumptuous feast of quality content, as and when I liked to do so. 

        Generous to a fault, he was a warm- hearted man who made an insignificant nincompoop like me, feel important and worthwhile. The college I studied in, and my sophisticated classmates with their snooty, superior, worldly wise airs and graces overwhelmed me. I was a fashion illiterate soul with wild, curly hair that stood up like it was being perpetually electrocuted.

          So when I took up Valiyachan's invite and went to meet him at his stately home, I was nervous and jittery. But he was so welcoming and he showed me his lovely coral and shell collection along with his envy arousing trove of Reader's Digests. The house, the books, and the warmth of this genuinely simple, charming gentleman made my life easier in Trivandrum. 

         I was falling, floundering, and finding my feet alone, in this city, and Valiachan eased the pain and depression to a great extent. The books that I borrowed from him were veritable founts of wisdom and I read them happily. Reading was one activity wherein I proceeded confidently, with self-assurance and throwing caution to the winds. 

          It was the time when British Library was still operating in the YMCA compound and I became a member with my cousin's help. You could take four books, if I remember right and a couple of glossies. I entered the phase of reading biographies and autobios and sometimes, was completely flummoxed. The pages would not move and I felt deflated. 

           I talked to Valiachan about this one day when I went to return his Digests. Very calmly, he explained that one must never force oneself to read above their level because others were doing it or because it was considered the norm. He explained that our reading tastes keep changing as we go along through life. We do not have to compel ourselves to read something that we find tough going, unless it is a prescribed text or something of that sort. That nugget of wisdom was such a relief. I had been tormenting myself about my incompetence and lack of interest. But Valiachan 's words put my thoughts about my inadequacy to rest and I decided to adapt my reading to the inevitable flow of life and interest. 

          He took the trouble to talk to a young, troubled, confused teenager like me and helped me out with his simplicity of manner, words and actions. Never had the opportunity to openly convey my deep love and respect for this man of great humility, wisdom and understanding. Will miss him deeply.