My father's Father's Day

My Father’s Father’s Day

पिता स्वर्गः पिता धर्मः

Long time ago, on 10^th August 1910, was born my father, Prabhakar Vithal Kulkarni.  We will be celebrating his 110^th birth anniversary this August.

I do not know much about his school days; the only thing I knew was that he had to leave his education when he was around 20, when he lost his father, and had to search for employment. He got a job of a junior clerk in the Income Tax office.  He got married in 1930 and lived in Pune –Thane – Pune in rented premises.  

He lived simply and linearly.  His meager salary was the only source of income. Within that income, he provided board and accommodation to several friends, relatives, other and us - the six brothers and sisters.  He did not find any necessity of owning a house or purchasing simple things like radio and phone.  He raised us frugally and left, when the Call came on 18^th Jan 1972, leaving behind nothing material.  It was a simple life, nothing remarkable in it.

We all his six children love him immensely.

And one of the reasons for our love for him is, his love for his father, Vithal Balkrishna Kulkarni. 

Of course, we never met his father, our grand-father.  But there was a big photo of his sketch (the real photograph was probably non-existent), framed and hung on a wall in the living room along with photos of deities like Dutta. Every Thursday, my father would place garlands on all these photos, including the one of his father, and offer Puja.  At the end of it, there was Arti.  My father had composed an Arti for his father which he lovingly recited on the occasion.  We children, along with our mother, would stand in the semi-circle and join the Puja. 

This routine was followed by him every week till his death. We still remember this Arti by heart.

I never came across a son doting father in such a way.  Putting father on a Pedestal, composing an Arti in his honour and treating him like a God was something unique.

I tried to ask him about it.  He would just brush the question aside.  I asked my mother.  She had no answer, either. 

What kind of a relationship was this?

I tried to look to the Grandfather. He looked little strict in the photo that hung on our walls. 😦

To the extent I knew, my father had a very short company of his father, not more than 20 years.  He was a clerk in the railways, with a large family to support.   My father and his elder brother were educated till matriculation only.  So it must have been a tough life.  

There is one possible reason.  My father had a younger brother, named Manik.  He was quite bright, but died at a very young age.  My grandfather must have grieved his death; probably, he showered a larger share of his care and love on my father because of this tragedy (as well as my father being now the youngest child).     

Other than this, nothing much is known.  This love between father and son must have been very emotional, in small things, which probably cannot be remembered or told in so many words.

But whatever, all Thursdays are etched in my mind as my father’s Father’s Day.

 

 

Sunday, 21^st June 2020