Standing on the threshold before entering the lofty portals of the elite ‘Nonagenarians’ club, I think about my journey so far. With the perennial blessings of my mother and God’s grace, it was quite smooth and pleasant, but for some unbearable losses. In this journey I have crossed 89. But sadly, I lost my father in 1946, while I was 18. And my mother had to shoulder the burden of five kids aged between 12 and 27. But a very courageous lady that she was, she easily took it in her stride and stood behind us like a Colossus all through the 98 years she lived.
The living conditions in those days were not congenial. No electricity, no good sanitation, overcrowded tenements, etc. But everything was available in plenty in Sowcarpet in Madras where we lived. An anecdote will further illustrate this fact: At 22, when I started my first job in 1950 at Gobichettipalayam— then a nondescript village—near Erode, little did I anticipate that in three months I would be bundled up as a patient and transported to Madras. As a lonely bachelor, my life at Gobi was very dreary. The only silver lining was the periodical visits of my brother-in-law, a kind-hearted gentleman, and a travelling sales executive. Soon, I fell ill with typhoid, which quickly took a turn for the worse. I was bed-ridden and as if on a cue, my brother-in-law dropped in.
Seeing my precarious condition, he set the ball rolling at breakneck speed. The result: my mother was at my bedside the very next morning. Seeing my semi-delirious condition, she insisted that I be taken to Madras immediately for treatment, as there were no good hospitals nearby to treat this dreaded disease—despite the doctor’s advice that my life would be at risk. But with stern determination, she requested her son-in-law to make speedy arrangements for train reservations from Erode.
And the next morning, I was taken straight to the General Hospital in Chennai. Fortunately for me, I could remember what happened only up to this point. Thereafter my mind went blank. When I was discharged after a week, I was told I was unconscious for nearly four days. Encomiums were heaped on my mother by all the GH doctors for her indomitable courage and risks she had taken to save my life, but for which I wouldn’t have seen the daylight. And I shall be ever grateful to my brother-in-law.This is just a one trivial example of my mother’s unflinching love. It is not for nothing therefore, that mother is said to be the visible God and God, the invisible mother.