Down memory lane
VIMALA ANANDARAM
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A niece fondly remembers her uncle, R.K. Narayan on the occasion of his birthday.
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My uncle, Narayan was an enigmatic person whose mood could never be taken for granted. He could be affable one moment and irritable the next.
WORDSMITH R.K. Narayan in a jovial mood
R.K. Narayan, the writer needs no introduction. A legend in his lifetime he is one of the most widely read Indian writers in the English language. The sympathetic humour and broad humanity of R.K. Narayan has no parallel in Indo-Anglian fiction. He conceptualised a sleepy town, Malgudi in South India and wrote stories out of day-to-day incidents. A reader often identified himself with some character or the other in his stories. In the process, Narayan immortalised Malgudi. He subscribed to the tribe who believed that a writer is the voice of the people. Narayan the man was serene, gentle, courteous and unpretentious - one who shunned publicity. He was also most reclusive, having always preferred to let his work speak for itself.
On the occasion of his birthday (October 10) remembering R.K. Narayan and writing about him is a daunting task. But memories helped to sustain this task, bringing into focus the many-splendoured personality of the man: the writer and the relative.
My uncle, Narayan was an enigmatic person whose mood could never be taken for granted. He could be affable one moment and irritable the next. Awards and fame came his way at the national and international level, yet all this adulation left him unaffected.
Down memory lane, a segment of my childhood comes into focus, bringing images of Mysore and summer vacations spent at my grandmother's place. Three generations of the family gathered, and all of us, savoured the time we spent together. My favourite cousin was Hema, Uncle Narayan's daughter. Narayan seldom returned empty handed when he went out for a walk or elsewhere on work. He brought home small tins of fragrant talcum powder, plastic toys and pieces of costume jewellery that warmed our hearts. I still cherish a tiny plastic doll with a red bead necklace that he brought back for me on the occasion.
Most evenings after dinner, the family would gather in the main hall where grandma - Narayan's mother, held court. Mysoreans love walking and Narayan was no exception. It was on those occasions that the characters of Malgudi, were conceived. When Hema and I were around six years old , the family decided that we should attend summer school. My uncle was the only dissident factor, as he was totally against sending children to school during vacation.
In the ensuing years, despite transfers my husband and I managed to keep in touch with Uncle Narayan. And by a happy co-incidence, when he was nominated to the Rajya Sabha we too were in Delhi. He looked at Parliament, as a cynic and used to regale the children and I with stories of the happenings in the House. He seemed to enjoy the masala dosa at the Parliament house canteen, perhaps, it reminded him of Malgudi.
On one occasion when I took him shopping to Connaught Place, at one particular bookshop he paused and asked me to see if any of his books were there for sale. "Don't tell anyone I am here", he said his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I will be hiding behind the pillar in the verandah"
His sense of humour was infectious and in many ways he was childlike. Narayan's inner strength, I believe came from his sincere belief in God. From my uncle, as I knew him, I have learnt that "We are here on earth to live - to experience whatever comes, to act on that experience as well as we can and hence to grow. Life is a candle meant to burn ever brighter, a fire meant to light other fires. It is a gift from God and an inheritance for those who come after."
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