A drop of tear for my Damodaran Potti

 

I did not want to go there as I did not want to see Potti’s motionless body. I did not want to see his face without that eternal smile on his lips. The smile that spoke a thousand words. The smile that won many a heart and demolished many an adversary without uttering a word. Yet I went there as I knew for sure that Potti would love to see me before leaving. He was just peacefully sleeping. But with that missing smile, was that my Potti? I don’t know. My mind was still shuttling between reality and a refusal to believe it. Standing beside him, did I hear someone saying that Potti  departed after a heart attack? Very much possible. How could his slim body house such a big heart. Yes, he was incredibly large hearted. It is an irony of fate that there were people (very few of course) who could not understand the depth or vastness of his love. It is equally incredible that he could overcome hate with love. After all, love was the only language he knew.That sparkle in his eyes, those soft words he uttered, that smile that radiated love: Oh God, all these not any more?

Only those close to Potti knew him as a humourist. Of all the dimensions of humour he perhaps lacked just that clownish one. Most often his humour carried an element of the intellect. Self ridicule may sound clownish but it is possible only for those who are very confident of themselves. I remember the following incident. Potti was a PG student of physics in CMS college during 1986-88. The students of that class were on a tour to Kodaikanal along with some teachers. The students were engaged in some games in the Kodai garden and we all went back to the Kodai guest house where we were staying. Next morning Potti came to my room and said, “Sir yesterday Mini (P T John Sir’s daughter) lost her mutthumaala while playing in the garden. She realised of the loss only after reaching the guest house. She asked me to accompany her to the garden. But since it was too dark by then and after all it’s only a mutthumaala I discouraged. I thought she could buy a new one during the next Thirunakkara Utsavam. But Sir, she now tells that it coasts a few thousand rupees. Sir, will a mutthumaala cost ten or twenty thousand rupees?” This mutthumaala was a pearl maala! I sat wonderstruck by the Potti innocence. But in the years to come I had many occasions to realise that he was an incredibly strong personality who chose to remain behind the veil of innocence. He knew a lot on a variety of topics. He had a lot to speak. He never tried to impress anyone. But whoever came across him was won over by his purity of thoughts and the romantic beauty of the words he chose while speaking even casual things. His dreamy eyes spoke all that he wanted to speak. But did everyone hear those unspoken words? I doubt. He never complained and was a very contended man. While talking he was never in a hurry to stop. “But dear, didn’t you leave a little too early, in a hurry”.

Long back, once I met him near the Thirunakkara temple. Then he was working with the AHUJA company. He was their engineer responsible for the acoustics of big auditoriums in different parts of the country. I asked whether he was happy with the job. The answer to my question was so characteristic of him. He said. “ Sir, sabdathinte ardtha thalangal manasilaakki cheyyan aanenkil, dharalam cheyyanuntu” ( Sir, there is a lot to be done if one works understanding the nuances of sound). His employers might not have wanted him to go this far. But Potti with his sincerity and his eternal quest for perfection would go farther. These are virtues not often or never appreciated or applauded. But Potti never  worked to impress a boss. He was his own boss. Any work he took up, was done with the same devotion with which he performed poojas at the temple.

Let me come back to the tour to Kodaikanal. We all were having some exciting times at Kodai. During one of those ecstatic moments Mohan Kurien Sir’s then small little daughter Mini addressed Potti as Pottichayan. After that moment, Potti was Pottichayan to his class mates and we teachers. It is over three decades now. His name is saved as Pottichayan on my mobile phone. Some four or five years back we had this conversation.

“ Potti, I have saved your name as Pottichayan on my phone. I am going to change it as Potti”

“Why Sir?” He asked

“Potti, when we gave you that title you were a boy. Now you are a man, in fact a senior man. I should not take your name lightly.”

With his characteristic smile he replied,

“ You are not taking it lightly. That title carries the weight of love. Don’t change it Sir ”.

I did not change it.

I might not call up that number again.

But that name will never be deleted. That cannot be.

'Kabhi Alvida Na Kahena'.

"No Byes For You Potti'; Oh no .Pottichaya .........