A Personal Tribute to Dr. Ranganath
By Kalpana Rao, October 25, 2015
I open a page in history:
To pull free the Ranganath stories
That hang there like snowy wisps,
That flow about from the many fragments of memory chips.
I played that day with the story of Rama,
On my lips and in my story, he became the master of Kama..
The player who danced and scorned the real Ramayana
And created many new modern Sitayanas and Lakshmanayas.
At the end, he spoke rich words,
That soared my imagination upto the flight of birds.
I wondered at the new fan,
Only later to learn that he was a medicine man.
Many a time, I met this tall, lanky Ranga,
Along with the synergy of love, Prema,
And the sparkling, twinkling Vidya,
Much later the crowd grew stronger with Satish and Pragya.
This Ranga, Oh! was indeed a handful
Running off all over the map to various football gangfuls.
Roaming around in a decrepit TVS,
Trying to scramble so as to catch the imaginary Juhi Chawlas, Madhuri Dixits and Priyanka Chopras,
This Ranga had a Sunday tryst with the Himalayas,
Trying to achieve the impossible medical layas.
He twisted, strained and held together
Like Hercules, the various forms of knowledge together.
This Ranga had doctors, nurses and others
Listen to new knowledge stories without borders
His sleeping form arose,
To beat time with various data and information roses.
Creating new records and achievements Ranga,
You were indeed the great mighty mover of a new Sangha.
Oh! This Ranga has indeed incredibly lovely life tunes,
His love for youth, his sympathies for all, his passion for perfumes
His trysts with different phases of life,
His vigour, vitality and excitement keep him alive.
With him around the music, dancing and excitement never stops
We hope you do rise right upto the top
Oh how we all love and cherish you….
and are proud of you Doctor.
I Can't Wait Until Tomorrow Because I Get Younger Every Day: A Tribute to My Father
By Kalpana Rao
Until I was 27, my mother was the center of attention in my life. I shared all my daily activities with her, knowing she would listen and offer gentle advice when needed. Even after I married, I wrote her long letters from Shillong, describing the beauty of the place, the people, and the cultural activities we participated in. I often missed her dearly and longed to return to her comforting presence. Her patience, wisdom, and kindness left a lasting impact on me.
When she passed away, her loss lingered in my heart for over a decade like a festering wound. While the pain hasn’t entirely vanished, she now resides in my heart as a silent spectator. Miraculously, with her passing, I began to pay more attention to my father. I realized he had loved her in his own way, even though we never saw them as a loving couple.
A year after my mother’s death, I visited home and was astonished by the change in my father. He had prepared lunch for me, including a sweet pumpkin dish he had overcooked, which he sheepishly admitted. I assured him it was delicious, though I noticed the house was no longer as tidy as before. I understood his composure was a front, masking his worries about finances and my younger siblings’ lives.
Over the years, I developed a grudging love and respect for my father. I remembered a photo of him as a young 32-year-old, holding me as a baby. Despite challenges, he found suitable partners for my siblings and adjusted to having a new daughter-in-law at home. He continued to travel, even amidst criticism from relatives, and brought back music CDs and paintings for me, hoping I would enjoy them as he did.
Recently, we celebrated his 90th birthday with a gathering. While preparing a biography for him, I realized the many wonderful traits of his personality—his strictness, moral values, loyalty, exuberance, and childlike wonder. He had a deep love for music and often took me to concerts. In his professional life, he worked in water management and agriculture, helping farmers in Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka.
His democratic and open-minded nature was evident throughout his life. At home, he treated sons and daughters equally, never imposing religious rituals or traditions on us. Instead, he encouraged our pursuit of knowledge and education. He proudly introduced me as a university professor at family gatherings.
My father’s passion for food and his vast knowledge of the best places to eat in India made him a connoisseur. As the birthday celebration ended, I realized my deep love for him, which had been overshadowed by my focus on my mother. Today, I attribute my integrity, loyalty, appreciation of music, arts, and nature to my father.