Not a Vishu I would like to remember.

Today is Vishu in Kerala and New Year's day (or Chittirai Thirunnal) in Tamilnadu. It is
supposed to be a day for good beginnnings - generally a day with good things associated
with it. Though it did not turn out that way for me.

At around 6AM today morning, my cellphone rang. A very unusual thing for my phone to
ring at that time of the day. I am sleeping with my son cuddled close to me. I drag myself
from the bed and irritatedly look at the number & see that it is my sister calling from Kerala.

I hide my irritation and take the call. My sister has called to inform me of the demise of one
of my paternal uncles (my Dad's first cousin). He died in his sleep last night. I knew that he
was not keeping well (kidney trouble) for the past few days and that he was hospitalised, but never thought it was serious enough to be fatal.

I don't know his exact age, but guess that he would have been in his late sixties. Not really
old enough to depart from this world, especially in this day and age, when medicine has
progressed to great heights.

By normal standards with which the world measures us, this uncle of mine did not really
achieve anything great in life. He did not amass wealth, neither did he build a big luxurious
home for himself & family. When I was growing up, he used to do business involving mining
and sale of sand used for constructing homes. But then a change in government policy made mining sand from the river bed illegal & that was the end of his venture. His daughter then supported the family with her earnings from the job in New Delhi. But he was known to
one-and-all as a good human being, which in my books rates much more than having
loads of cash or assets.

Every day, his routine involved a visit to the nearest main junction which is around 2 kms
from his home. Enroute, he would need to cross the Achenkoil river using the ferry service.
Since our home is located on the side of the road he takes, on most days he would drop in
to have a small chat or a cup of tea.

In the last few months, my son had added him to the list of people known to him and would address him as 'Appachan', which is a Mallu Christian way of addressing elderly people in
general or grandfathers specifically. I wondered whether my son will notice his absence - I
have no idea what goes on in that tiny mind.

He also left behind a son, who joined his elder sister in Delhi and even got a job there. But
then, due to reasons known only to him, he vanished for a decade or so and surfaced only recently - I had done a post on the son's return. The saving grace was the son being at his father's side during the latter's last days, taking care of him at the hospital.

While he never talked about it, I am sure that my uncle must have been overjoyed at his
son's return after such a long period and I think he would have left the world in peace with
that major worry gone.

Rest in peace, Uncle. I can still see you walking down the road in front of our house, smiling
at all the known faces, stopping to talk to acquaintances, chatting with my son, having a cup
of tea at our home etc. Memories that will remain with me for ever.