Human interaction was the core area of life that my father, the late Professor N A Nikam, emphasised, be it by calling on people or inviting them home or keeping in touch through mail. He would make sure that, as children, we met the many learned people from here and abroad who visited him and also take us along when he called on dignitaries, like for instance, the then President Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan in New Delhi.
“You should make a mark as a teacher.” Saying so, my father had me switch jobs. I found the role fulfilling and cherished the bonds I formed. But one of his students commented, “But you are not like your father.” True. David, who had held on to father’s typed notes on Hindu scriptures that he had distributed in class in the US several decades ago, recently sent me copies, but I had no comparable experiences to relate. Some found him to have a calming effect on their troubled minds. Clearly, his interest in his students went beyond the classroom.
Observing me spend much time reading novels and magazines, my father told me, “Reading is a good habit but read some serious books.” So I picked up The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt, seeing which my father told me about his encounter with her at a UNESCO meeting in Paris. The Fine Art of Political Wit gave an insight into the national differences in wit and humour. My father, a Cambridge graduate, commented, “None to beat the English when it comes to humour.”
Wit and humour were his hallmark, both in personal and official work. While addressing a gathering, my father would hold the audience by injecting humour into his speech and giving it a personal touch. When an elected representative who targeted my father on the floor of the House lost the elections, my father told me jovially, how about sending him a telegram “Will miss you in the Assembly”? In a Syndicate meeting, when the principal of an undergraduate college asked why his allowance was lower than that of another principal, my father replied, “He is an older man with a large family. When there is an addition to your family let us know. We will increase your allowance.”
My father often referred to the one-meal-a-day of his childhood. Loveable and always well-dressed, his help to the needy was spontaneous and immediate. The memories of a compassionate person who generously shared his gifts of mind and heart will always be with us.
Email: dr_s_nikam@yahoo.com