On my Father's Death

My father passed away on August 28, 2011.

While he was quite sick for the past six years with chronic lung disease brought on by years of smoking, the last month was especially tough on all of us. He persevered and we stood by him. He never complained, so how could we? My mother, his companion of 55 years, knew very well that the endgame was on. But she was the epitome of patience and strength, telling us to also take care of ourselves while caring for him. Many lessons my parents taught me in my formative years were tested in those days.

My early years were spent not knowing my parents. They went for higher studies to USA when I was very young, leaving me in the care of maternal grandparents. It was very late at night sometime in the summer of 1962 that I first saw them - two good-looking strangers who showered much affection and brought me many gifts. The next few weeks went by figuring all this out. The ice was finally broken when on the train to Bombay to collect their shipped luggage the window fell on my hand and took a few nails with it. We were friends after that.

Abbu (as we called him affectionately) taught me the value of hard work and developed my interest in science. He was always surrounded by students, was hardly at home and the best place to meet him was in his laboratory. I was too young in the 1960s to understand that he was setting up a new Biochemistry program at the Aligarh Muslim University (AMU), but figured he must be someone important. I should become like him, I thought.

I enjoyed going to Abbu’s laboratory in one corner of the Chemistry Department, opposite the C-2 lecture theatre in which, many years later, I also attended my first Chemistry class at AMU. My first experiments were done in his lab. For a 6- or 7-year old it was pure magic to see the sudden appearance or disappearance of dark pink color (phenolphthalein) when two colorless liquids (acid and base) were mixed. Years later, when in High School, he encouraged my friends and me to take the National Science Talent examination. Two of us did the project part in his lab. We studied the physicochemical properties of various edible oils to detect adulteration and developed a simple method to estimate the water content of milk. Our research taught us the value of repeat measurements, variation, statistical significance and proper controls.

Abbu nurtured my interest in science and celebrated every success in his own subdued and easy-going manner. I was made to feel good, but not important, and encouraged to do better next time. Importantly, I was allowed to make my own choices. When I gave up the option to study medicine and opted for Chemistry instead, he supported me. By the time I was ready for my Masters degree, Abbu was Head of Biochemistry at AMU. While I liked the subject, the desire to be my own person made me declare that a Masters in Biochemistry from his Department would be my last choice. I never asked him whether my belligerence hurt him and Abbu was too much of a gentleman to raise it. He advised me to go to the Indian Institute of Technology-Kanpur to get my Masters in Chemistry, reasoning that it was the best Chemistry Department in the country, and with a strong background in Chemistry I could easily switch to Biochemistry. I saw the value of that advice many years later.

By letting me take my own decisions and learn from my mistakes, my parents took the fear of the unknown out of me. That confidence has been critical for me as a person and as a professional. Those who play it safe are rarely original. I was allowed early in my life to take risks with the knowledge that my parents trusted me and I would not be alone if I messed up. That is the best gift my parents have given me. I hope I can instill the same confidence in my own children.

Abbu nurtured my other interests as well. There were hunting trips during winter, an activity in which he participated enthusiastically, much to my mother’s dismay. While he himself did not play any sports, he never objected to my three-hour cricket sessions after school or the daily lawn tennis practice in university. He knew I had an academic focus that would not be compromised and trusted my judgment. That confidence allowed me to walk away from AMU in the year I was going to captain the university lawn tennis team, because I had the chance to study at IIT-Kanpur. Those aware of the AMU student culture will find this an uncommon action.

My extracurricular interests also benefitted directly from Abbu’s research activities. My air gun came from Germany and my first aluminum tennis racket from somewhere else he had gone to attend Biochemistry conferences. I became interested in photography very early because I had full access to his Carl Zeiss Contaflex SLR camera, which is still a prized possession. A few cameras and many years later, I am still excited at the prospect of shooting landscapes, people and monuments. There is no better way to spend an entire Sunday in Delhi. My camera also remains my most trusted companion on trips elsewhere.

He was a simple person, had no attitude despite being successful at almost everything he did and remained child-like in his enthusiasm to learn new things. Abbu taught himself computers when these were uncommon and became a vocal advocate for computer-aided learning. Biochemistry was one of the first departments at AMU to give students access to computers. Had he been well the past few years, I am sure Abbu would have been a rage on Facebook.

My parents had superb chemistry. They understood and complemented each other beautifully, and treated each other’s family as their own. My mother cared for my paternal grandmother through her 7-year bed-ridden state following a stroke. She also stood by Abbu as he educated and settled his younger siblings. Abbu on the other hand took care of my maternal grandmother in her later years. He commented on her death that he was now an orphan. The love and care they have provided their other son and my younger brother, who is intellectually challenged, is truly inspirational.

Abbu had been struggling in the ICU in a Delhi hospital since July 26, mostly unconscious and on a ventilator. The pneumonia was severe and had led to septicemia. My mother could not come and relied only on my twice-daily updates. We both knew it was a losing battle. She finally managed to come to Delhi on August 28. We left the hospital at 5:30 pm. Abbu died at 8 pm. The 55-year relationship had hung on for that last meeting.

Farewell Abbu. You were always my hero. Your life will continue to guide and inspire me till I meet my Creator just like you did that evening.

Abbu and Me (Year : 1957)