I often spend time with people way older than me. There is an unspeakable calm in just shooting the breeze with absolutely no agenda, or points to discuss on a specific topic. There is a sharing of experience, a common bond and connection, and a feeling that inevitability has to be treated with gentle respect. No fear, no tragedy and thankfully, no television-noise like drama. Life speaks to you through these human libraries.
With age, in many cases, comes untold wisdom. In rare cases, this is a wisdom that reveals itself when you most need it. In even rarer cases, it is a wisdom that enlightens, uplifts and keeps your own life in good stead. One such wise and precious individual was the late Dr Mrs Y G Parthasarathy, “Rajamma” or Mrs YGP to all who knew her.
Punctuating almost every important cultural or educational event in Chennai as its insignia, as our “sigil”, she was a force beyond her physical frame. She had that undefinable ability to be legendary and down-to-earth at the same time, a quality in the truly great.
That the greatest and the best have passed out of the portals of the school she established, and became synonymous with, is well documented. Several lifetimes will remain indebted to her and her foresight to make the arts and culture an integral part of the schooling process.
She was always Rajamma to me. An adopted aunt, a teacher, a mentor, a sage and a source of immense support. I am sure she was all of these for several people in Chennai and greater South India. To the end, she remained an indomitable spirit, a fighter and an eternal optimist. To the end, she would make it a point to say hello and take pleasure in the simplest things.
A small gift would elicit a grand smile and a bashful “thank you” and a cup of wisdom along with the filter coffee I would always get served. Many legends owe their early years to her school and its teachers, and to the ideals and precepts she laid down as the fundamental building blocks to child development.
Much of her life and its achievements are very well documented. She was a pioneer in many ways. A postgraduate in at least two disciplines – journalism and history from an era where few Indian women were educated.
Being everyone and everything at once – a cub reporter, a theatre artiste, a homemaker, a founder and educator, an activist, a passionate advocate of Indian culture and developing an Indian ethos, a patron of the arts, and overall an incredibly tough fighter for everything she believed in. I never remember Rajamma holding back when it came to voicing her opinion on things she found abhorrent or unjust. She would demand a microphone, and have her way, regardless of the venue or whoever else was present.
It is very tough to write this as I think of her in the present tense, and being a guiding spirit and force in my life on a daily basis. As I write this, I am staring back into the beautiful Tanjore-style Saraswathi portrait that she gifted me when I founded Rhapsody, my mission for music-based education in children.
We have weathered storms thanks to her advice on key matters. As I am sure many schools and educators in Chennai and the rest of South India have. She was the only educator on whose advice the Central Board of Secondary Education would alter its policies and patterns. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that the CBSE benefited immensely from her contributions and inputs.
Most children growing up in Chennai from the 60s to the present day know who she was, even if we weren’t students of the famous PSBB schools! Our lives and our memories are peppered with Mrs YGP being a part of the audience, a part of the cheering squad, and also being the disciplinarian regardless of which school we belonged to. “You are all my children,” she would say, making me envy Rajendra and Mahendra all the more for having that supreme honour.
Through Bharat Kalachar, the cultural institution she founded and housed inside the school, she sent a very important message to all artists and educators that you place art at the service of the next generation and not the other way round. Countless luminaries have performed there, almost exclusively for her. Like many others, I would sit on that stage waiting for her to arrive and give us a terse and witty critique of the concert at the end of the day’s recital, much to the delight of the audience and all performers on stage.
In her passing, we have lost an era of good mentors and guides. We have lost an original educator and thinker. Many have lost a friend, a family member and a colleague.
I have lost my Rajamma, one of the last unconditional supporters I had. As I step forth into a gloomy, rainy day in Chennai, I think of the monthly updates I would give her, awaiting either criticism or praise for a particular decision.
I will spend the remainder of this lifetime in doing some justice to the important lessons of her life. To be passionate and driven, persistent to a fault. To be absolutely fearless in voicing dissent or critique when a course of action needs to be rectified. To be respectful to people of all races, genders and demographic types regardless. To remember names, histories and milestones. To honour commitments, and above all, to be positive always.
Try as I might though, the tears do not stop flowing.
Goodbye, Rajamma.
Video tribute: