Chapter 14

The little lamp that burnt out

Noted writer M.T. Vasudevan Nair's view that Death is a clown making an untimely entrance on the stage of life came true in my life also. Like a budding flower withering away suddenly, my younger brother Rajasekharan passed away in his adolescence. It was November 19 in the year 1982 We were woken up by the telephone ringing early in the morning. I took up the receiver nervously as nobody usually calls at that time. When people sleep in America, it would be day in India. So Keralites in America would call home only between 8 and 10 a.m.

We had a feeling of something amiss when we heard the telephone ringing; we thought of our aged parents back home. But quite an unexpected news was waiting for us. The lamp of our house, my youngest brother Rajasekharan, had been put out forever. As usual he had his evening meal and had gone to sleep. Others could see only his lifeless body when they went to wake him up the next day morning.

I was totally heart broken when I heard the sad news. Baby also found it very difficult to console me. Rajasekharan wanted to test the power of the chloroform which he had stolen from the lab. It is still not known how he was tempted to take such an extreme step.

Rajan was my great hope. Of the five sons of Vamanan Nair, he was the most handsome and the smartest. Rajan and Suresh started going to school when our family was slowly coming up financially. I was like a father to them. I took special care to give them excellent education by admitting them in a good school. They should achieve what I could not. They had their primary education in the Nirmala Bhavan school. After that Suresh joined Christ Nagar and Rajan SMV school. Rajan, after having passed the school final exam with excellent academic record, joined the pre-degree course opting for the second group. As a student he was also given tennis coaching. Who could imagine that the chloroform of the college lab would snuff out his life so early?

Unable to bear Rajan's loss, I drank too much. That was the third birthday of the twins John and James. We visited them on way to the church. I drank during the meal. I had never drunk that much at any time earlier. As a result, I vomited. Since then, I have never touched liquor in my whole life. After a very long time, when my life had veered into some tragic days, I just had beer.

My brother's death came at a time when I had the consolation of getting a job and had a steady income. I found it difficult to suppress the sorrow that I could not see him at least once. The last cheque I had sent him was not even cashed. Thus I came to experience the great tragedy of an untimely death.

I experienced the pangs of death once again when Krishnakumar of Kuravankonam in Trivandrum expired. He was one of my dearest friends. Even after becoming an engineer, he considered me his best friend. Once he had to undergo a surgery for hernia. When he recovered from anaesthesia he had asked: where is my only friend Velayudhan? I still remember his words spoken to his relatives which gave me great joy. He left for eternity 23 years ago in August 1991 after a massive heart attack.

The death of Henry, another close friend, also was a great shock to me. It was Henry who was instrumental for the train journey which had rerouted my life. He was working as a technician in Air India after his graduation from the engineering college and staying with his sister in Bombay. After that I met him in New York. By that time he was a flight engineer. We regularly met each other when he landed in New York airport. Moreover, whenever we were flying home via Bombay we would visit him at his house. It was 20 years ago that we met last. Then we had bid adieu promising to meet again. But he is no more today. His wife and three children are permanently settled in Bombay.

My father expired in 1999. As I was unable to see my younger brother when he died, I was greatly worried about my ability to visit him before his death. My father was bed-ridden when we were planning to go home that year. When we flew home without any more delay, he was nearing his end. Without much ado he also left the scene.

The 'Sivavilalsam' hotel in Kawdiar was still there. My second sister took over the hotel later. The tiled hotel was finally closed in 2011. The place where the hotel stood is a banana garden now. It had provided a large family subsistence for 50 years The tiled small 'Sivavilasam' had to ultimately give way to the majestic surroundings of today's Kawdiar.