Remembering a compassionate hero

It’s my dad’s birthday today. Five years have passed since he left us for his eternal abode but his memories, most of which are associated with his acts of kindness, still abound.  

People loved him for his gentle nature, polite manners, his willingness to help and his ability to understand. I loved him for the man he was. Being with him was such a joy that sometimes while returning from school, if I felt like being pampered, I would head straight to meet my dad in his chambers at the Madras High Court, not waiting for him to return home.

Despite my unannounced arrival, he would receive me lovingly and treat me to goodies. I would sit at his table and enjoy the tastiest of delicacies while he would be busy poring over work or running around with his clients. I didn’t know then that often, the money he spent on me was the money he had saved for his lunch the next day. No, it was not that my dad had a dearth of clients and therefore couldn’t make enough money. In fact, he was a good lawyer and had several clients. The problem, which I happened to realize during one of my visits to his chambers, was something else. It was compassion.

On the day that this piece of wisdom dawned on me, my dad had won a divorce case. His client, a frail woman, approached him after the verdict and thanked him profusely. After a while, she softly made enquiries about his fees to which my dad, after thinking a while, said, “Pay me what you can.”  She hesitantly handed him two hundred Rupee notes, half expecting him to ask for more. My dad took it, thanked her and briskly made his way out of the court with me trotting beside him. As we were walking, I was curious to know why he hadn’t charged her more. After all, he had won her a case that would alter the course of her life. Placing an order for my favourite food items at a restaurant, he turned to me and lovingly said, “Child, people who come to courts do not come here because they want to but because they have no other option. That lady is in great pain. She might have won a case but her family’s just been broken. There is no joy in this victory. Would you still want me to charge her more?”  The truth struck me then. For the first time, I understood that a win necessarily did not mean happiness. I also realized why my dad always struggled to make ends meet.

Often, his decisions would appear simple but the thought processes behind them weren’t.  Before turning a lawyer, my dad was a professor. He taught English, while my mom taught Tamil at a college. When my sisters were born and one of them had to quit their jobs to look after them, my dad decided to give up his career and stay back at home as he knew that my mom’s family was dependent on her salary then.  Needless to say, the love and understanding that the two shared was something phenomenal  and something which lasted right till the very end. 

The heir to a rich chartered accountant, my dad never had a desire to acquire wealth. To him, people mattered more. That was exactly why he had no qualms when my grandfather decided to donate huge tracts of land owned by the family to the poor. In return, he enjoyed enormous respect and love from the masses. 

In fact, whenever we visited our native place, relatives from even neighbouring villages would pour in. They would invite us for a meal at their place and would refuse to budge until we accepted their invites.  Anywhere between 10-15 invitations would be received during the course of a week, usually the time we spent at our native place. While I always preferred visiting some of my uncles’ places, my dad would be careful not to disregard any invite. He would visit all the poorer relatives first, lest they be hurt and would relish the simple meals they offered in the same manner he would enjoy an elaborate and delicious spread laid out at the places of our wealthier relatives. 

Everywhere he went, people would congregate. He was a person who could mingle with both the rich and the poor with equal ease. Usually, after the feasts, he would get to resolving long-pending disputes between families and neighbours. His knowledge of the law and the respect they had for him enabled him to resolve many an issue amicably. He’d say, “If you go to court, this will be the verdict. But you and your opponent will both have to spend a fortune to have this fought in court. Take my advice and resolve the issue here itself.” Needless to say, the matter would end there.

While most people remember him for his compassion, I will always remember him for the immense faith he reposed in me. Once, after having been diagnosed with cancer, a relative of ours was seen talking to him, offering assistance with the intention of bolstering his confidence. The person my dad was, he said with a smile, “Don’t worry about me. My son is here and he will take care of me. When he is with me, I feel like I have the strength of a thousand elephants.”

I don’t know if I lived up to the huge expectations he placed in me. But nevertheless, I tried. I don’t even know if I can be half as good as my dad when it comes to being compassionate but I am trying. And while trying to do that, what I have realized is that while there are several successful people, there are not as many loving and compassionate people left. That probably is why I feel that this world has become poorer without him.