It has been 68 months since my father passed away, December 4, 2013. Merely 8 days after my 50th birthday. In fact, I had not even yet told him about all the birthday gifts I had received. I used to call him just once a week, every Tuesday. Looking back, that was a huge mistake. But that's how it was. There was always a distance between us. Plus we only lived together for a total of 8 years.
We barely spoke to each other.
Only time he spoke to me at length was in 2010, when he was recuperating from a surgery. I sat next to his bedside in a nearby hospital. He agreed to be recorded on my blackberry. Just the audio.
He recounted his life. His was a remarkable journey. Not from rags to riches. But from an illiterate till the age of 10, to secure a Ph.D from London at the age of 33. That was quite an achievement, considering my grandfather never went to school and thoughts of sending his kids to school never occurred to him for the simple reason that there was no school in the village. The village had a population of about 500.
My father received no formal education until he was 10 year old. He learned it all from a Maulavi (a traveling religious teacher) under a tree.
He had a photogenic memory. This helped him earn the highest grades ever, and earning a gold medal in LLB - Bachelor of Law.
Later on, he earned a scholarship to do LLM from University of London. This was unheard of in 1966. How is it possible for a kid from a small village to go to London?
But he did go. He returned with LLM and PhD within 3 years in 1969.
He went on to be Dean of Law College, Calcutta University at the age of 41. It was a very prestigious post at a very highly regarded law school.
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