Among the Not So Great

His Ways

What amazed me and could have or should have amazed many others too, is that though I was acquainted with him for many years (not as student, but as a colleague and friend) I have not heard his voice ever raised above the normal conversational levels — that voice needed sharp or attentive ears. Even the little conversation — if heard — was never unnecessary or loosely indulged in. One would think that managing the washing section would require, sometime or the other, that he raise his voice! And it was not that the workers were docile lambs or saints who needed no second telling. Yet the section functioned smoothly enough. I have heard that if a worker was absent, Sitaram would himself quietly replace him, do the work, in addition to his own. We did not know it then, but we often saw him going back late, perhaps the last one to leave, from his work — doubling up for some absentee?! He never took the bunker to task. But this sort of schedule often delayed him elsewhere, often even in reaching the general Blessings of the Mother. In those (g)olden days the Mother came down to the Meditation Hall and the ashramites and devotees passed in a queue to receive a flower from Her. She waited along with two or three others who attended on Her, and people like Sitaram (or even unlike Sitaram) were able to reach Her. Some thought this was not right. They reproached Sitaram for keeping the Mother waiting. She heard of their reproach and was not sympathetic to Her ‘wellwishers’. She asked them to keep quiet and said, “He is doing my work.” It also happened that in his hurry to get to Her, he would rush straight from his work, clad as he was — a bit untidy, a little sweaty. This too displeased some, who tried to advise him to be more presentable (if not chic). Nolini-da heard of this and advised the advisors to “leave him alone — no one need say anything to him!” What with his ‘softness’ for others and none for himself — (a total unconcern, we could say) — he often failed to find time to eat. Baba-ji (Ramkrishna Das) who had a soft corner for this young newcomer saved his dish of food for him, but often found the food untouched!

His work for Vaikarai too had its ups and downs. When he took it up, it had more of ‘downs’. He wrote to the Mother. She simply sent some ‘Prosperity’ flowers and Blessings. By and by, the paucity of funds disappeared but work had to be done. There was no letting up on that score (even miracles are the end-products of hard work done somewhere, some time). Later, a friend, Mahalingam, came in to help. He also was a bodybuilder. He too had a good upper body — also lacked a matching lower body. His source of protein was, if I remember well — groundnuts; meat, the more popular source was not required.

The Dining Room expanded, changed in quality too. More young workers joined, some old ones left, but Sitaram was always around. But Kaala (Time) is a friend (or foe) of everyone, living or non-living. Sitaram was getting older and he would never say ‘No’ to work. Fortunately help did come. Vijayalakshmi (our teacher — physicist) rendered yeoman service at a crucial period; then came Mahalingam, then an energetic-looking young man Ananda Bharati. They were great supports in Sitaram’s publishing work. For the washing too, many came and went, some true ones stuck on, the chaff flew, the grain stayed. (Rani, Prashant and many more that I cannot name or recollect.) What Kaala could not change was the real Sitaram. He remained steadfastly “Sitaram” — never a word of complaint or very probably never an unnecessary word. Yet the body moved towards ‘Old Age’ without fuss or fretting. His eyes troubled him. One developed a problem — the retina dried. His friend (late) Dr. Venkataswamy Naidu did take him to Madurai, did whatever was possible — yet the eye lost its vision. Sitaram continued with one eye, which too was not in great shape — glaucoma was the culprit. He was again taken to Madurai; but nothing much could be done. Then the hearing too was impaired.

Sitaram continued but now seemed to feel the burden of the years. His achievements were many but not sung about, and most of us are not attuned enough to “hear” Silence! The adage “out of sight, out of mind” may be expanded by adding “out of earshot, out of mind”. So let us hearken to at least some faithfuls who watched him with awe, and then watched over him in his last days of failing health. I only recount as faithfully as I can what they said, with unshed tears in their eyes and love in their hearts: no names, no comments.

When Sitaram was working for Vaikarai, the Mother gave (for Vaikarai) the impression of Her feet with Her Blessings. I believe the magazine is doing well. He had another chore, done with love. Everyday, for over 40 years or more, one could have seen him, nearly lying on a blackboard, almost one with it, copying down a passage or a poem from Mother or Sri Aurobindo. This board is hung at the entrance to the main Hall — all can read as they “Q” past for the counter. He poured all his attention and care into this, as into all else he did — the regular lines, the word spacing, the handwriting etc. were remarkable, near perfect. Someone is keeping that tradition alive.

Sitaram did the washing of vessels for many years. He might have continued to do so longer, but he developed an allergy and Dr. Dilip Dutta prevailed over him to stop the washing. Fortunately he agreed to pass on the work to others (Rani, then Prashant took over). Prashant was also one of his trusted helpers who took care of him and accompanied him on his walks (exercise). Sitaram went for these walks and did his magazine work nearly till the last day. He carried on, with help, much of his work. But he was always apologetic saying, “Oh! I am disturbing your work.” He even told Prashant a few days before he departed, “Prashant, you have done so much for me. A little remains to be done!” How prophetic the statement was!

Sitaram’s heart too was growing weak and weary. He must have foreseen the approaching end. Sometime towards the end of January 2007, a thought crossed Sitaram’s mind; “I have not told anything to anybody. My time is approaching. Those close to me may feel sad!” So he did finally say some interesting things.

(Much of what follows is what he said in those one or two weeks or 10 days before he passed away. I have put some of it in first person, even though those are not his exact words — they were told to another who told me. Second-hand, one may say.)