It has been 22 years. I clearly remember that day when my father passed away. And here I sit and think about him. Some times when I am alone and thinking of him, it scares me that I am now slowly forgetting him. I try hard to remember his voice and how it sounded like — but that voice seems to have disappeared, never to come back. It is difficult to describe this feeling. And it amazes me how our minds work.
If there is anything good in me, and for anything that I have been able to achieve in life, I owe it to my father, who I rightfully call as my first guru — who taught me a lot, with fewest of words.
I remember the day he died. And I look back now at those moments. I was standing there outside, with people around. Somehow I felt there were multiple times when my mind went into altered states. I was out of the present and somewhere else, not with the people around. What was that? I had asked myself many times later on.
His body had arrived from the hospital. I remember looking at the body, and I looked carefully. I remember thinking — this is not my father. That person who I had called father all my life, had left. He was not this body — cold, expressionless, helpless. Where are you? A question arose.
That night, the body burned. Sitting by the riverside, I watched it disappear slowly, turning to ash. Random pops and crackles of the wood, and the sparks that flew to light up the night. The river flowed silently. The rush of the day, that swarm of people who came to pay respect was not there anymore. Only a few close relatives and friends were left. Someone on the other side of the river bank was playing a sad tune on the flute. How beautiful and serene that sound was. Who is playing at such an hour? I had wondered and even now I can remember that tune.
We come from dust and we return to dust. We will all leave like this one day, one by one. This is a good place to meditate, to contemplate death. In spite of the chilly darkness, the mind is clear here. Shiva is here somewhere. If you cared, he will tell you all about Turiya. Here Krishna will smile and ask you, “What did you bring with you, that you have lost?”. Here Buddha will teach you about Anicca and Anatta.
Buddha said you can let it go only when you see reality. And what is that reality? That reality is Anicca - the inherent nature of all beings changing second to second. The idea of this permanent self is the dream and all our lives we are so deeply stuck in this dream. Well, I guess this is the place when that dream breaks, and we get a hint of reality.
Contemplate. And contemplate a little more. On death and decay. Some day, then we might as well go beyond it. Meditate on Death to get to Deathless state. Otherwise, the cycle continues. And I remembered this beautiful poetry of Kabir:
माया मरी ना मन मरा
मर मर गए शरीर
आशा तृष्णा ना मरी
कह गए दास कबीर
Illusions nor desires died
Bodies died over and over again
Hope and wants do not die
Says Kabir, that’s the game
After cremation, I returned home. It was quiet and dark. I remember looking at my mother, lost in thought and sad.
That night, now that I had time to think about the loss and the father who had gone forever, my tears flowed. What brings tears to one’s eyes? Guilt! You think you were doing everything right, but somewhere deep inside your mind, guilt is hiding. We just do not see it. Quietly and silently, our sanskaras wait for their turn to come out. For me and my guilt, it was that day. Someone inside started asking questions: Did you do enough for your father? Did you help him when he needed your help? Did you do your duty as a son?
One of my earliest memories with him was when I was, maybe 5–6 years. I remember that place, I was holding his hand and going to see the doctor, probably to get a shot. The idea was I would get chocolate once it is done.
As a child, I saw poverty — a lot of it. Sometimes, we wouldn’t even have money for food. Our over 100-year-old house roof leaked, sometimes from one side and sometimes from another. One spot patched, the other will leak, and so on. This is monsoon season, and whenever we see the dark clouds, we would grow grim and anxious: rain is coming. Maybe the roof will fall this time. And it did one day. It almost fell on top of me. By some luck, it didn’t fall right on top of me but to my side and I am still alive to write this. Then we finally got the tin roof thanks to my maternal uncle’s help. And finally, we were relieved.
He somehow instilled in me the habit of loving books. As I mentioned earlier, we were not very rich. The better word is we were poor. But whenever I asked for a book, I do not remember that he ever said “No”. He would somehow manage the money. Only one time do I remember, he said, “Can it wait?”
Russian classics enchanted me — Dostoyevsky, Gogol, and Gorky were some of my favorites. I used to live in the world of Raskolnikovs and Karamazovs, the Nose, and the Coat. Hindi, English, Nepali — I read them all, sometimes even the same book in a different language.
But as I grew older, I started thinking more about our poverty, our condition — about what I should be and what should be my career direction. Books did not help with our money problem. It was one of those days, he saw me and remarked, “these days I do not see any book in your hand”. Now if you examine this sentence a little closely, you will notice that it was neither a command to do something nor a question that sought an explanation. I got my hint, and those words are here with me — always ready to remind, to keep on reading and learning.
He has mentioned this in his articles, and in his notes, that he became a socialist when, as a student in Lucknow, India, he saw a poor guy searching the trash dump in the street, looking for food. This was a life-changing moment for him, making him think about the suffering and plight of the downtrodden — people forced to live a life not knowing what they will have for their next meal, while others lived in luxury.
The idea of equality, justice, and brotherhood of mankind was the underlying theme in each of his talks. His initial influence was Arya Samaj and Gandhi, who had famously declared:
There is enough in the world for everyone’s need; there is not enough for everyone’s greed.
He genuinely cared for the poor people and dreamed of Nepal as a country where there is no poverty, where people had enough to eat and can live a life of dignity.
“Remember one thing”, he used to say. “No matter how rich you are, you will never be respected truly by people of other countries as long as your own country is poor”. This was a gentle reminder to rise above the individualistic and selfish tendencies and do something for the country too.
“What a rich country we have”, he used to say. “There should be no need for people to suffer. There should be enough for everyone.”
Later on, I have thought about these words quite often. What’s the point of having a few billionaires who control the wealth of the entire nation, and even the world. I would rather see millions of millionaires — where wealth is distributed more evenly. These ideas of socialism have remained with me, even though a lot of time has passed, and I am not that poor boy anymore.
There is no end to the greed of human beings. This idea of justice has evolved a little further in me. It should not be limited to just humans, but rather to all and everything we share our planet with — animals, birds, insects, rivers, trees. All of us have our own place and should have a right to co-exist. Humans are no superior to animals or nature and have no right to destroy it.
Having said that, as I grew up and got a scholarship to study in the then Soviet Union, my views of socialism changed. And I had a disagreement with my father on socialism. What I saw was not what I had imagined. Yes, they had a solid foundation of science and technology. People I guess had enough to eat, and basic necessities were met. But then I also saw long queues for food. We used to go to grocery stores, and the stores would be empty. You want a better room, bribe the dorm warden. Or, present a bottle of vodka to get something done. The bread was cheap. 3–5 kopecks maybe? But then, near the common kitchen, I would see a mountain of bread dumped. “This is what happens when people are given things too cheap or almost free”, I used to think. Human psychology is not to value what you get free or cheap.
“If this is the socialism we are talking about, I don’t think I like or want this socialism”, I had mentioned to him in one of the letters. But he was not someone who would outright reject my observations. He would listen and was always open to ideas.
He strongly rejected and criticized the age-old religious Brahmanism, dogmas, ritualism, and blind faith and exploitation in the name of religion. But he never criticized the enlightened figures — Shiva, Krishna, or Buddha. Rather, he studied the Vedas, Upanishads, Gita and Buddhism, and found the roots of socialism.
“The idea of socialism is not a new idea”, he would say. And he would quote this ( in Sanskrit ) from the Upanishads:
Let us be together;
Let us eat together
Let us be vital together;
Let us be radiating truth, radiating the light of life;
Never shall we denounce anyone, never entertain negativity;~ Taittiriya Upanishad
“Gita is not that simple. I know people who have gone mad trying to figure it out”, he would say. “When Krishna says ‘I’ — he means all — the common thread that binds all of humanity.”
Whenever virtue subsides and wickedness prevails, I manifest Myself. To establish virtue, to destroy evil, to save the good I come from Yuga (age) to Yuga.
~ Bhagavad Gita 4.7
And:
I look upon all creatures equally; none are less dear to me and none more dear.
~ Bhagavad Gita 9.29
“Look at Shiva. How he swallowed the poison for the sake of all. And he never differentiated between Gods and the Asuras”.
He always emphasized on ethics and morality and believed in Karma. I remember once, a shopkeeper had returned 10 paise more than he should. So I was happy. But when I had told this to my father, he made me go back and return that money. So that was a lesson: you should never take that doesn’t belong to you or you haven’t earned.
I also remember him often telling a story about Madhav Raj Joshi, who in 1896 launched Arya Samaj in Nepal, who is also the father of martyr Shukra Raj Shastri. He was an intellectual and reformer but despised by the pandits of the time. So a few of those pandits make a plan and challenge him to debate. They couldn’t defeat him, but citing he insulted the Rana ruler of the time, they made him get arrested. But what happened to these five pandits? They met a strange fate. They say one went mad and used to shout “Madhav Raj was right”. Another went to take a bath in a river and never came out. And the others had met a similar mysterious fate. So the lesson was: never do harm or wish harm to anyone. Karma will get back at you.
One quality I admired in him was his ability to talk to people on their own level. I would hear him explain the complex concepts of philosophy, Marxism and Dialectical Materialism in simple words, giving easy to understand examples. I think this is the quality of all great men.
He used to go for long walks in the morning. I have acquired this habit too. And sometimes he used to meditate, and I started doing that too. “I start meditation and soon I feel sleepy”, I remember him say to my mother. Now I think about it, it brings a smile on my face. Now that I know a little bit about meditation, I wish I could help him. At least I could show him how to get rid of Sleepiness and Drowsiness — one of the five hindrances during meditation.
Another quality I admired of him was hard work, concentration, and being consistent. I would see him wake up at 4 in the morning, and start writing.
“Your brain is like a knife, the more you use it, the sharper it gets”, he used to say.
Sometimes when he saw me frustrated with a math problem, he would give the example of Napoleon, who he said stayed in a room for three days to solve a problem.
“If you didn’t get something in one read, then read three times. If that didn’t work, read five times. It will come to you”.
Every son looks up to his father and seeks his opinion. Why does a father’s opinion matter so much? Once I wrote a story and showed it to him. He liked it. It did not matter to me if anyone else liked it or not, but the fact that he liked it had given me great satisfaction and pride.
Time had come for me to make a decision on my career. Sometimes I wished I could help my father, but then I did not want to be in politics. I think he sensed it, and I believe he did not want us to go through the same path that he traveled — because it is not an easy path, it calls for sacrifice not just of yourself but also of your family.
He was one of the only 5 people who had a Masters's degree in Nepal then. He had a good starting job in the only bank in Nepal, with the promise of promotion to be the General Manager. But he chose politics.
While in exile in India and struggling financially, he was asked by the then king to come back, and maybe be part of the system. But he rejected. So he had many opportunities to choose a comfortable life. But he chose otherwise.
One day he came to me and said, “No matter what career path you choose, you can still do good for the people and country”. It was clear to me what he meant. I chose to be an engineer.
So these are some of the things I remember of him.
What is his legacy? I know people like to judge and like to point fingers. That's an easy thing to do. He did what he had to do. Now it is time for those who ask the question to ask themselves: what did I do? If you ask me, I would say his honesty and integrity is his legacy. His genuine compassion and care for people is his legacy. His love for Nepal and being a true patriot is his legacy. Not shaking from his ideals on the face of temptation is his legacy.
Now about the title. If you are wondering why I chose Fathers & Sons, it’s because I feel this is not just about one son and one father. This theme, the relationship, stories, conflicts happen to all fathers and sons. When I started writing it, it just happened that I remembered Turgenev’s novel Fathers & Sons. I had liked how forcefully Turgenev shows the generational conflict in this novel.
All of us learn something from our fathers. We accept some things. We reject some. There is love, but there is also a conflict of opinions. There is respect, but there can also be some misunderstandings. We choose our own ways. But deep within, our cores have been shaped by our fathers even before we know it. Where did these ideas come from? Why do I feel this way? You wonder.
There’s a series on the life of Chanakya. There is one poignant moment I remember most vividly. It’s the moment when Chanakya returns to his home after a long time. There he pauses for a moment, and remembers what his father Chanak had said:
If not the Sun, be the candle for sure
My father too must have wished the same for me, as now I wish it for my kids: if not the Sun, be the candle. Get rid of your darkness, be as bright as possible and then go help others do the same.