The Story of SKILL Foundation —11

Prem Verma
Sep 7, 2018 · 8 min read
Oil paintimg of my parents

I was quite attached to my mother. Yet, her passing away did not leave a marked void in my life. It was mainly due to the presence of my wife and the new arrival within two months of my mother’s departure.
I had known my mother pretty well since both of us had been each other’s confidante. I knew her as a typical Indian mother, extremely understanding and affectionate. She was the eldest and favourite daughter of a police Sub Inspector, yet her schooling was limited to class four only. She could barely read and write. Even so she was wise, compassionate, sagacious and a born leader. She used to take care of one and all, even very distant relatives from both her own and her husband’s side.
To me she was extremely protective and would act as a shield between me and my father. Whenever I was chided or thrashed by my father she would sympathise with me in private and sooth my feelings. She was a great emotional support to me and would keep my secrets from my father.
I can recall one such incident of my school days here. I was 14 years old then. My father had gone out of station and I persuaded his driver to drop me to school. On the way I forced him to give me the steering. Just before reaching school, near the Radio Station I lost control and hit a man walking on the road due left. I was completely flummoxed. My driver immediately replaced me on the driving seat and sped along. We glanced back and saw the man immediately rise up. So we were assured that the injury was not serious. When the car reached my school, we examined the damage to the car. Only the left headlight was badly damaged. It was a brand new fiat bought only a few months before. I entreated the driver not to tell my mother that I was driving and to inform her that the some boy had thrown a stone that caused the damage. How taken aback was I when I was summoned by the Principal. There, to my utter shock I saw my mother sitting before him. Suffice it to say that all my attempts to explain away the lie failed. On return home in the afternoon my mother took special care to get the damage repaired so that my father would never know the details!
My mother was only fifty when she died. One thing that pinches my conscience is that we were not able to take care of her heart ailment because of lack of resources. My mother was also a chronic patient of diarrhoea. Some doctor had advised her to take a particular medicine which came in tablet form called Entero-Vioform She had developed a habit of keeping this tablet in abundant supply and of popping it in her mouth whenever she felt the symptom. I always recall how I or my brothers would be making frequent visits to buy this medicine. Later I found out that the generic name of this medicine is iodochlorhydroxyquin and that its safety and efficacy has been questioned so much that it was banned in USA long back but has kept up the supply to other countries, even to date. Its effect on the heart is so much that much later it was banned in India too. But that was long after I lost my mother due to this accursed medicine!
Today on the slightest symptom of common cold, diarrhoea or fever we are habituated of drugs. In the rural areas around SKILL Foods, Silzori, I am pained to find the simple villagers being given by semi qualified doctors and quacks antibiotic capsules and injections of god knows what at mere complain of a head-ache or body-ache. Many of them I know have developed serious ailments due to strong medicines. Whenever I have to take allopathic medicine or arrange it for any one, I wonder what effect it has on us, apart from curing the symptom.
One direct consequence of her passing away at an early age of 50 was that, for the first time, I started observing and understanding my father as an individual. Before that I had never noticed him, what to speak of knowing him. I marked the pain and void in his life and soon developed an intimacy with him that was to last till the end of his life. Earlier I had maintained a distance from him and expressly avoided his company. I seldom ventured wherever he would be and when he came to the place where I would be playing or studying, I would quietly slip off. But after my mother’s death I made it a point to be near him as far as possible.
I remember once in my college days I was enjoying the company of a few friends in our sitting room. We were listening to some film songs on the radio, which during those days was the highest pleasure one could conceive of. When my father walked into the room and surprisingly sat down, I got up and put off the radio as a mark of respect. My father remarked ‘’That’s the problem with you youngsters. You just can’t appreciate a good old song of K L Sehgal’. I politely pointed to him that it was not Sehgal but Mukesh singing one of his early songs ‘ Dil Jalta hai to jalne de…’ I still do not know whether my father was convinced or not. As usual after a few minutes of silence in the room he left us to resume our freedom.
Just a few months after marriage, my wife once heard a great hue and cry in the courtyard. She at once rushed out of her room and found all the kids jumping and dancing around. Being new to the house, she enquired from them the reason. She was really surprised when they asked her to come out and join in the celebrations because my father has left for the day!
My Father retired from his job within two years of my mother’s death. After that there was a complete reversal of role between father and son. I no longer looked up at him as my father and guardian. Rather I now considered him as my ward to be taken care of and kept happy.
Throughout my service career, wherever I went my father would join me — Darjeeling, Jamshedpur, Dhanbad, Dehradun or Delhi. When he would be in Patna, I would use all holidays and leave to go to Patna along with my wife and both children. For the next twenty years till his death in 1992, I would go out of the way to fulfil his wishes and idiosyncrasies. His demands were always small and childlike. He loved to travel by car. I made it a point to travel to and fro to these distant places by either his 1963 model Fiat or my 1953 model Morris Minor. Many a long journeys have I made by these cars to various places in his company. I would make it a point to take along my wife and the two young children. The car would be invariably overloaded. The cars were old by then and we did have our share of adventures but they all added up to heighten the pleasure and the experience. What a motley crowd it would be with the age of the passengers ranging from seventy five to a newly born!
My father on his part had a great knack to become friendly with all my contacts — be it my friends at school or college or be it my boss, colleagues, subordinates, businessmen, lawyers or any contact at work. Rather I would notice that he would develop greater rapport with them than I could. Today, I am proud to claim that most people connected with me have known my father quite well. His benign presence in my residence in most places always gave me a great strength emotionally.
I know at times I ignored the wishes and needs of my wife and children. At times their education also suffered. Seldom did I take them on a separate holiday anywhere else than to Patna. But I also observed that they enjoyed these visits back to Patna and my village. Both my daughter and son gained immense benefit from their proximity to their grandfather. Very recently my daughter has remarked that now she realises from where her love for rural India and kids has come from. My son has devoted his life to rural development of farmers. Today both of them are the driving force behind our mission at SKILL Foundation and SKILL Foods. I relate this development in them directly to their proximity to their grandfather.
I returned to my job at Bokaro soon after my mother’s death. This time I was missing both my mother and my wife. My overnight stay at E/482,away from my rented apartment, became more frequent. One morning after a particularly late night session at E/482 we were gossiping and listening to the radio. The All India Radio suddenly interrupted the programme for an important announcement. The upper age limit for the Civil Services had been raised from 24 to 26. I jumped with sheer joy and my friends too. We took out a piece of paper and pen and calculated carefully my age. I was just eligible for one more chance! I knew in my heart that this was a godsend chance only for me and that I was definitely going to make it this time.
During those days the cost of filling of the form of UPSC for the Civil Services was seventy rupees. I needed at least hundred rupees for going to Patna and filling up the form in time and I had none. With all their good intentions, none of my friends could lend me that amount. While we were discussing the modalities of arranging the money, there comes a telegram from my father, ‘Blessed with a daughter’! I was so excited that I simply could not act. Rest everything was done by my dear friends. They were so determined that I should reach Patna by night that one of them remarked “Even if we have to charter a plane we would do so’’. One friend whose father was a partner in the local Kalpana Talkies arranged to get for me the hundred rupees. Within a matter of few hours my friends saw me off in a bus bound for Patna. Today my heart goes out to those friends at Bokaro in gratitude. I can only recall the famous song of Stevie Wonder:

Knowing you can always count on me for sure
That’s what friends are for
For good times and bad times
I’ll be on your side forever more
That’s what friends are for…

To be continued……..

Prem Verma

Written by

SKILL Foundation is a charitable educational Trust. It develops skills of underprivileged children by engaging with them in innovative ways.

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