Tauji was the family head in Mansi' side of the family. He was the guiding figure in all keys family decisions and rituals (including the ones in our marriage). In spite of not having his own children, he loved and cared for every children in the family. He had an aura that made respect for him come naturally. When we decided to get Papa's book released at Aakhya's first birthday, Tauji was the obvious choice to do the honors. Tauji was significantly older than Mansi's father, and so I never felt like an in-law kind of relationship with him; rather it was more like a warm and jolly grandfather-grandson kind of relationship. And it was not just me; I am sure everyone who ever met him found it easy to connect with him. This is why I am writing this blog in his memory.
There were three distinctively peculiar things that made Tauji the person he was.
First one was his smile. Its hard for me to recall Tauji in any conversation without picturing his ever-present smile. Sometimes I wondered whether it was just his face structured that made him seem to be smiling. At other times, I thought that it was his voice which makes it appear as if he is chuckling a bit in every sentence. But perhaps in reality he was a genuinely happy person and this happiness radiated through his smiles. The impact of those smiles was not just the aesthetic appearance, but how they acted as invitation to people: invitation to open-up, invitation to talk, and invitation to connect. And so it is not surprising that Tauji was able to connect with people across gender and age-groups, professions and interests, or even richness and poverty. Mansi was very close to her Tauji and felt strongly for him, sometimes even more than for Taiji; my mother-in-law was able to talk many things to Tauji and in fact in his last days he visited her just before a major surgery of hers; Tauji's elder as well as younger siblings were both very closely attached to him, even the worker families in his farm took their problems to him. Smile as a mechanism to open-up and invite is today taught in many professions, including human resources, hotel management, sales and marketing, and customer facing services such as tourism and medical services. Tauji already knew this better.
Second was his curiosity. Tauji was interested in knowing everything, from everyone, and all the time. Since his primary occupation was farming, he was interested to know the kind of vegetables and fruits that were grown wherever we lived after marriage (Germany, Boston, California, and finally Seattle). He would always ask us about the characteristic vegetation there and would even try to replicate that locally. This curiosity of his indeed lead him to innovate quite a bit in his farm. Mansi tells me of instances where Tauji's innovation didn't work (e.g., purple cabbage) and they had to eat all the produce at home. But he never stopped learning and even actively engaged with professors from agricultural universities to learn and do more. His curiosity was not limited to farming; he also asked me about my work a few times and I tried my best to explain computer science to a lay person. The cool thing was that due to his curiosity, conversations with him were very engaging. There was never a blank silent moment, which often happens to us when we meet new people or visit disconnected relatives. Tauji instead was always up to something and the clock seemed to tick faster than it really did.
Third was his warmth. Tauji was a large hearted person soaking up all the negativities around him and allowing just the goodwill and harmony to prevail. I don't think he was ever seen complaining about anything and words like bitter, harsh, angry are hard to attribute to him. Rather he was the congenial soul that was ever comforting and ever peaceful to talk to. The great thing about warmth is that it stays for long, and this is why today when Tauji's conversations and engagements are gone, his warmth is still with us. It is for this reason that when we lost Tauji, everybody expressed regret that they hadn't done enough for him; that they could have cared more for him; they could have shared more with him; they could have treasured more with him. It is for this same reason that when our second child was born yesterday, Mansi remembered Tauji and how we were just six weeks short of having Tauji's blessings for our new baby. Even though his body may be done, there is still a warmth and an ethereal sense of Tauji around us. This I think is his biggest gift to us.
As we wake up to the new reality of the world without Tauji, we must move beyond regret and continue forward on his path. We must remember what Tauji stood for and what he stood against, and rediscover those values and those ideals in our own lives. And we must step up to uphold, nurture, and transform them to newer levels. Because that is how we will truly persevere Tauji's warmth. The tall tree that fell left behind a soil that is rich and fertile enough to grow many more saplings to similar or even greater heights.
May you rest in peace, Tauji!
