It was in 1990. I was the office in-charge of two senior lawyers at Tirunelveli, Tamil Nadu. There were a handful of brilliant juniors I had developed good friendship with. A junior, hailing from an aristocratic family, invited me to his marriage in Rameswaram, a renowned coastal pilgrim town in Tamil Nadu. But I could not join the group attending the ceremony.
The nikah passed off grandly and gracefully amidst an assemblage of august guests, so much so that I cursed the misfortune that divested me of the chance of enjoying the event. Later, I visited the newly-weds and personally convincing them of my inability to attend the ceremony, greeted them. Generously understanding my plight, they arranged for a small treat with sweet, karam and coffee. The junior showed me his marriage album which had memorable visuals. Leafing through the colourful pictorial memento, a particular photo impressed me.
Senior lawyers and juniors were sharing a lighter moment with the bride’s chithappa (paternal junior uncle), all squatting barefooted on the floor. Who was he? Some political personality or celluloid celebrity? No, he was an icon. Sporting thick, long curly hair cascading like waterfalls on his face, he had decorated coveted positions in India—silky and shiny feathers sprouting out in his crown one by one.
I was happy that a friend of mine had held the hands of a girl from a family that had attained national glory and popularity and sad that I had missed the chance of a lifetime—to sit near him and see him in flesh and blood. Had the Almighty been graceful and benevolent, I could have attended the wedding and spent a few minutes with that dignitary. But alas, a great loss. So ill-fated have I been. Let me unravel the mystery behind this suspense-packed preface.
The cynosure of all eyes was a scientist, a great visionary, a super human-being who read the pulse of young hearts, ignited the youth and fervently aspired for a vibrant and resilient India. It was our Missile Man, who became the chief scientific advisor to our prime minister and later, the 11th President of India Shri A P J Abdul Kalam.
Despite the invite, I couldn’t witness the wedding and meet the noble man, but even now I am on cloud nine that I was lucky enough to have been invited to a function in the family of the great man, who later became the first citizen of India. Last but not the least, a cherishable-throughout-life incident would come off in one’s life. Mine too is no exception.
E Sethuramalingam
Email: esrlingam@gmail.com