Dada
# Madhu’s message to Dada on his 95th birthday
Pujya Dada,
Pranam.
With so many memories of you going back to my childhood, it is difficult to fit my message for your 95th birthday Memory Book on a few 4“x6” cards. Writing a letter doesn’t come easily to me, so I had many conversations about you with Sunjay, who took notes. And this letter is based on my memories of you as told to Sunjay.
My first memory of you is from when I may have been 6 years old. The year was probably 1947. We lived in Amravati, where Babuji was teaching in the Science College. I have a few precious memories of those years. Going for walks with Babuji, with me holding his finger, a little stream in the woods near the house, and the day Babuji told us that Dada was coming and he would bring us a gift.
At the time I don’t remember if I really knew who you were. But I was very excited. It was a clear day, we gathered in a field, and we heard an airplane coming! And we stood in the field as a plane flew by, flying low, and dropping a parcel!
I ran to see what was there. Chachaji was probably there too, and Ashok as well. We found a box, wrapped up, and opened it up and inside we found chocolates! We were all very happy eating those chocolates.
I don’t recall what you looked like at that point. I must have seen you before, but I don’t remember much from those years. But you have told me a story about me, many times, when I was much younger — when I about 2 years old. I was apparently a good conversationalist, precocious and able to engage in conversation with grownups. One day, someone came to the door and asked me if he could see Babuji. I told him, “Babuji is not here, but Chachaji is here. Do you want to talk to him?” And when he said yes, I brought Chachaji, who is only 2 years older than me. The visitor was expecting Chachaji, as Babuji’s younger brother, to be an adult, but when I brought him, he saw that Chachaji was only 4.
While I was growing up, you would visit us from time to time. As far as I can remember, you always had a beard. I also remember the “bush shirt” you would wear. When I was probably 12 years old, the year when Queen Elizabeth II was crowned, you came to Nagpur and brought me a model airplane kit. I assembled it, cut out and glued the balsa wood fuselage together, put on the tissue paper skin, which had to be toughened with clear dope, which I found with great difficulty. I was happy flying the model plane. You gave me a couple of model airplanes, but it’s the first one I remember the best.
I remember you were interested in photography. When I was in the 8th or 9th grade, you let me use your camera for a few years. I learned photography with the camera, learned about depth of focus, shutter speeds, and I started to take pictures. One of the pictures I took of Vidya Buaji was used in arranging her marriage with Dube Phuphaji.
Probably less so now, but I have always been very argumentative. When we used to have conversations, I remember that whenever you said something that I thought was not quite right, I would immediately contradict you. That of course did not go over very well with you. It was not something I understood very well, that with elders, you don’t disagree, or if you do, you do it in a very gentle polite way. But I was very abrupt, not very diplomatic, and if somebody were wrong, I would tell him. You would tell me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn’t be doing that, that this is not how one should talk to people, especially to elders.
I remember going with Chachaji to visit you in Bombay during summer holidays: your flat up the hill in Andheri, our daily sightseeing trips, and the monsoon rain flooding. A few years later, I remember when we were all so upset after we heard about your plane crash and when Babuji went to meet you after that. I also remember when I visited you in Diplomatic Enclave after you moved to Delhi, and my first shower with hot running water, with which I was greatly impressed.
After my B.Sc. Babuji had wanted me to go to Delhi for my M.Sc., so I could prepare for the IAS. So I applied to University of Delhi for admission. I was a “first class first” from Vikram University, but I had not heard from Delhi in late June, although the university started in July. I was worried, and went to the university physics department and asked them what was going on. They said that everybody who was admitted had a B.Sc. honors degree, which I didn’t. They had no honors program at Vikram, and I didn’t even know there was any such thing. They said I should just wait, but there was no guarantee I would be admitted.
I was very disappointed. I told this to you. And you knew someone who knew Dr. Kothari, the Chairman of the University Grants Commission at the time. He had previously been the head of the physics department at Delhi. You said, “At least you can make your case to Professor Kothari.” So I got a chance to see him in his office for 5 minutes. Dr. Kothari wanted to see my mark sheet. So I showed it to him, and he said, “Well that’s nonsense! Your marks are excellent, and you seem to know what you are doing, I don’t see why they shouldn’t admit you.” So then actually I got admission!
In Delhi, I stayed at the university hostel, and I would visit you and Chachi on the weekend and eat home-cooked meals. Sometimes, I would take Bharat and Rahul for a walk, and we would all get an ice cream. And I remember my first time up in the air when you arranged a ride in a glider for me from Safdarjung airport.
After my M.Sc., I spent a year working on research and stayed at home during which I got admission to the University of Chicago for my Ph.D. And as it turned out, you were also going to Montreal as India’s representative to the International Civil Aviation Organization. And you left India a few months before me.
During those years when I was studying in Chicago, I came to visit you in Montreal a few times. I remember in particular going to Expo 67, the World’s Fair in Montreal, seeing La Ronde and all that. I had a car at that time, and I drove with a friend from Chicago. We had a fantastic time, but then my friend went back to his home near Washington DC by bus. When it was time to go back, as a young person, and sort of a crazy person like I was, I said, “OK I’m going to leave Montreal at midnight, drive all night by myself, and get to Chicago next afternoon.” For some reason I had convinced myself it was important to get there the next day. And you said, “Why are you doing that?” You were always trying to put sense into my head.
When I visited you in Montreal, we would sit down and have long conversations. We could talk about most things and sometimes you would give me advice. You told me many times that I should learn to be more social, and more diplomatic, and I would get much further ahead. Most young people don’t like when elders give advice, and I did not like it then. But now, looking back, I see that you were right.
I could always talk to you more easily than I could to Babuji, with whom I was always very formal. With you, it was more informal, you could tell me what you thought, and I could tell you what I thought. I could never tell Babuji the kind of things I could talk to you about.
Over the years, I have learned to appreciate you and to respect you more and more as a person and your wisdom.
Happy birthday. I look forward to the reunion next year and meeting you there.
—Madhu