Father, sitting on the front seat besides the driver, a small hard-bound worn-out Ramayan in his lap: ‘Dekho beta Lomrhi’. Son: ‘Nomri? nomri… khanpal? Khanpal?’; missing the elusive animal with the bushy tail and legendary cunning, as the old Landmaster rumbled through the plains of Northern Bihar. Father, amused, solicitous, reassuring: ‘Kanu Ram nahin dekh paye, koi baat nahin. Aage aur milegi’, extending an assuring forefinger behind for the son to hold. And the boy with the big ears and a serious pointy face kept peering out during the entire journey from Purnea to Saharsa trying hard to catch a glimpse of the elusive animal till his eyes hurt.

It was raining as it can only at night in the Eastern Himalayas, a constant drum on the tin roof, when the clouds have closed in and the only thing visible through the chequered windows are wet leaves glistening, shivering in the cold streetlight. Father, sitting beside a neatly tucked-in son, who is in his first night suit – vertical pastel lines run down – holding his five-year-old palm, reassuring, slowly opening his son’s desperate grip: ‘so jao beta, we’ll come back to meet you again tomorrow morning. Promise.’ Ma, trying not to cry, and Ramu Uncle, who headed the tailoring shop in the small hill-town, looking on. A promise deliberately not kept, but a lifetime’s and beyond holds.   

A few years later, father, visiting another residential school, located at the confluence of Ganga and Varuna in the ancient city, where the son studied, patting the son’s head: beta kya tha aaj khaane mein? Son, trying hard to remember, all the time worried parents might go away soon: yaad nahin aa raha. Pata nahin kyon. Father: Munwa beparwah. Kaise achche number le aata hai?  

In the same school, a few years later, father talking to a sharp, young teacher fresh from IIT-Kanpur, who had left a career in Chemical Engineering to study Jiddu Krishnamurti’s teachings, looking at his son with new eyes as the teacher talked about the young student’s understanding of one of the most original thinkers the world has ever seen. Then, later, like he was, bringing a sense of realism to his son’s thoughts, saying: work hard beta. There is no substitute for hard work and then, quoting from his favourite book Gita, “our right is only in work and not in the result, in its fruits”. Simple. He made things simple. If you have work to do, start doing it now. Don’t procrastinate.

In all these years of school, a unique bond grew between father and son during school holidays traveling from place to place, from construction site to construction site. An inquisitive son and a know-all father. Questions about roads and routes – which ones led where and from there where…, about trees and crops, birds…, farmers, about the people living in villages, about Gandhiji – how as an Intermediate student in Patna Science College father would daily attend the morning prayer meetings at Gandhi Maidan, the meetings that began with a solemn, compassionate Vaishnava Jana toh …, meetings where the speaker and the large crowds of students and villagers and town dwellers became one not in an excited mass but in an introspective self-analysis, how Gandhiji had taught Frontier Gandhi to spin cotton, and India’s first President Dr Rajendra Prasad to wash his Lota after morning ablutions, about the first PM Pandit Nehru – how charismatic he was… how suave, how he electrified the crowds, how he could be temperamental… rushing into the crowd, and above all how in his election speeches he could discuss the problems confronting India in the realm of foreign affairs with a crowd mainly comprising villagers in Eastern Uttar Pradesh, and more perplexingly how they understood and absorbed it all, while the aspiring Congress candidate hoped that at least towards the end Panditji would put in a word in his appreciation.

About the war of 1962… how it demoralised India and Pandit Nehru, who would never recover, about 1971… and the birth of a proud nation, how the sirens sounded in the late evenings and lights would be put out so as not to attract enemy bombers and ultimately how India stood proud in the comity of nations – forever changing its image and memory. The son heard and saw through his father’s eyes and wanted to be a freedom fighter, a soldier and an Engineer. The heat in the Chotanagpur plateau would be near unbearable during these Ambassador rides, and the times still etched in memory, when Fanta and Coke bottles were cooled by ramshackle roadside shops in pits dug deep in the rocky ground.

I wanted to be like father, ever dreaming to walk in his footsteps on rocky and riverine terrain. A hardworking, workaholic man proudly showing his numerous dam and barrage sites and canal systems and the Patna flood embankments built in record time. Later, rising to the pinnacle of his service to be the second person in the Govt. of Bihar to hold the position of Engineer-in-Chief after the renowned Sanyal Sahab. Completing and commissioning multitudinous minor and medium irrigation works. One who had grown to admire large multi-purpose irrigation projects of Canada and the U.S. like the Tennessee Valley Project slowly becoming a convert to the utility of smaller projects with less collateral. 

Father, giving up his position at the Central Water Commission, post retirement as a house had to be built in Varanasi. A house where he turned into a near saint and breathed his last. After all his grand projects, he wanted a simple house to live in, but here mother prevailed and he reluctantly and then happily accepted a lesser role.

A slightly surprised, proud father as I entered service and he visited remote places (he was used to it all his working years) across the country, from the deserts of Rajasthan to Ladakh. A saintly figure with beautiful wavy white hair siting in the sun outside the OCR in Leh. A swaying, dappled light falling on his face and the passers-by folding their hands in salutation. He loved Ladakh like no place else. The stark mountains and its hardy, religious people. When he was returning, they gave him a large painting of two friendly-looking dragons in the Tibetan Tantrik style.

With son, he visited Central Asia and Europe soaking in the world, its wonders. It was the father’s turn to be inquisitive and the son’s turn to explain. His immense grace making the son stand tall and proud.

Father, growing feeble yet independent, doing everything or nearly everything by himself, his strong legs still coping with thousands of miles behind them, waiting for his children, for me, to visit. To sit with them, talk, share tea and coffee, recite and explain his favourite shlokas from the Gita and Chaupais from the Ramayan and above all to look at them, to look at him – to fill in his face till the next visit. The son knowing, somewhat awkward.

Father standing with Ma in the portico, hand raised in blessing, a feeble hand, an old couple growing older, as the car turned at the gate to leave for the airport, the picture inevitably blurring …

Lying on a cemented platform, near the BHU Mortuary, still, bereft of life, cold… peaceful, what a man and father he was. This thought had been with me for some time that I should touch him – his hand, shoulders during my visits home, but didn’t… couldn’t bring myself to. Just the feet when arriving home and leaving and receiving a light pat on the head in return. Patted his cheeks and his head trying to reassure him to take the lonely journey ahead… in my imagination, somewhere far off the haunting Ud Jayega hans akela … played…

Gangajal in the small earthen pot from which drops drip in a rhythm on to the sturdy roots of the Peepul tree, the drops holding on to the intertwined Kush grass as long as they can, in the morning and evening, with flowers he would offer to the Gods floating and a lighted lamp in the other small pot hanging beside. I felt it was reaching him, and the Pinds giving him sustenance on the long journey to where Vishnu stood beckoning, as he reluctantly drew away from all attachments …, but the gnarled forefinger was now held more tightly from behind, refusing to let go …

AN ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER

He was a topper of sorts or a near topper where academics mattered – methodical, hardworking, at times a bit of a show-off.

After completing his B.E. (Bachelor of Engineering), father joined the prestigious DVC (Damodar Valley Corporation) project and was part of a team of Indian and foreign Engineers, led by an American Chief Engineer, involved in the construction of the Maithan Dam. In the words of India’s first Prime Minister, DVC was one of the “temples of modern India”. Father’s work was highly appreciated by his seniors.

After DVC, father joined the one of its kind World Bank funded Kosi River Valley Project, one of the largest river valley projects in the country, and was posted in the Kosi area (known as Kalapani during the British period) for seven long years, first at Purnea and then Saharsa. He worked in this project as an Assistant Engineer, Executive Engineer, Superintendent Engineer and successfully held responsibilities of Kosi Barrage (Main Structure) and Kosi Canal System. In between, after completion of the Barrage, the project came under the jurisdiction of the Government of Bihar and father joined the State Government of Bihar as an Executive Engineer. His work was appreciated by both the central and state governments.

A large model of the Kosi project sprawls, hopefully still does, in the premises of the Irrigation Department guest house (many decades later it was serving as the residence of a senior police officer) in Purnea. I am not sure if the historic model is still there. As children, we would climb and navigate around the huge model that included the world’s highest peak of Mt Everest and the temperamental Kosi. The model was built to brief the visiting WB President Robert McNamara when he came to see the progress of ongoing work under the Kosi project. Father as Executive Engineer was asked to brief Robert McNamara.     

In the year 1974-75, he was transferred as Superintendent Engineer for construction of North Koel Project at Daltonganj. The main components of the North Koel Project are summarised as follows:

1. Mandal Concrete Dam (65 m high) in Palamu district, now in the state of Jharkhand;

2. Barrage on the river at Mohammadganj, District Palamu;

3.North Koel Canal from Mohammadganj Barrage to Japla, Amba, Aurangabad, Deo, etc. The canal irrigation capacity was more than 2.5 lakh acres.

Under his leadership, projects were started under difficult conditions. In addition, he was assigned the job to construct the Patna Flood Control embankment. In the year 1976, this huge and prestigious project was completed in one working season to protect Patna, the capital of Bihar. Completion of Patna Flood embankment in one working season was considered a near miracle. The work was appreciated by the Government of Bihar as “extra ordinary performance” as also appreciated in the Assembly.

He was promoted as Chief Engineer and under his leadership following works were completed:

1. North Koel Dam at Mandal (except positioning of the sluice gate);

2. North Koel Barrage, Mohammadganj (completed);

3. Canal System from Mohammadganj to Deo (Completed); and

4. Irrigation of a large tract of land started.

The day the Mohammadganj canal system was opened, the people of the area welcomed him as a Hero. He was honoured by the people of the area and also by the government. The supply of water through the canal system was announced in an ongoing session of the State Legislative Assembly. Till date residents of the districts of Palamu, Aurangabad and Garhwa fondly remember his dedication and work.

The following irrigation projects were also completed under his supervision in these districts:

1. Malay Dam and Canal System;

2. Auraj Dam and Canal System;

3. Chirka Dam and Canal System;

4. Left Bankipore Dam and Canal System; and

5. Batane Dam and Canal System.

In the year 1986, he was promoted as Engineer-in-Chief cum Additional Commissioner and Special Secretary and posted at Patna. During his tenure of almost three years, he managed and guided all state projects, so that these projects may be completed in time.

According to an Engineer (Shri R. N. Chaubey), who worked under him for more than a decade, and later became a close friend, father was an “un-paralleled Engineer and Administrator” as well as an “un-paralleled soul”.