He was rich and famous. An educationist par excellence, he was heading a chain of famous schools in Delhi. He lived by his lofty principles. My association with him was almost four decades old and was like a long chapter which ended when he met his maker about two years ago.

He was always alert mentally and physically, we would often sit together when he would easily slip into nostalgia and narrated me the good old tales of his youthful time in Lahore where he studied and fearlessly joined the nationalist movements in the undivided India. He was a valiant fighter, an activist and a die-hard nationalist, a patriot to the core. 

 Once when he was in his eighties, he called me on my mobile. “Mr Rajen, can you come to my place in the evening and we will have dinner together. Gauging his moods I could easily gather that he has something very important to share with me.

He welcomed me all smiles asking me if I have come by my own car. He was always concerned with other's convenience and comforts.

As he started his narration, he suddenly turned pensive. “You know that my mother was a great motivational force behind me. But my father was always hidden somewhere in my heart. He was my idol and we always enjoyed a silent relationship.” In an emotion-choked voice, he said, “Although my father left us years ago, I always wake up in the middle of night feeling as if my father is calling me. I sit down and walk up to my father's photo to bow my head in a silent prayer.” He continued, gathering himself, “when I was small, he would come to me to cover me with blanket and when I grew up, tall and independent, he folded his hands to cover me with prayers.”

He recalls, “My understanding with my father was complete. However, the dialogue between us remained silent. How I wish we both were more visible and better communicators. He was a man of few words and the twinkle in his eyes was enough to convey to me his feelings and a silent approval of any new project I undertook. Although I seldom discussed with him about my work but his being around me was like a soothing shadow to me.”

His eyes suddenly turned towards his father's photo that decorated his spacious living room. “I do have a feeling that I could not serve my father the way I wanted. May be one tends to miss the parents when they have gone away.

“My father never clamoured for anything despite holding a senior government position.  He was contentment personified and remained calm and serene under all circumstances. His simplicity was exemplary. Often in school functions, he would join the crowd and sit in the audience with all pride.”

He continued, “The most important thing I learnt from him is that there are two lasting bequests we can give to our children – one is roots and the other wings. I wish the enriching legacy left by him percolates down to generations.”

His eyes turned moist as he said in a feeble voice, “how I wish the Almighty sends him down to be with me, may be for a week, to let me serve him to my heart's content.”

It took both of us some time to recompose and in silence before the dinner was laid.