A tribute...to NanaJi

Once upon a time there lived a great man. His greatness was not linked to his name or his fame. He was not even great because he did something great for the society. Most of you would not even know him if I won't tell you about him. But his story needs to be told. I would rather say his struggle needs to be told. Yes, he was a struggler, a struggler who struggled for whole of his life.

He was eldest son of a very small farmer born in a very ordinary village in very remote India. He helped his father in his daily work and used to study sidewise. He was a brilliant student and his teachers knew it very well. To his misfortune, his village had only primary school after which one needed to go to nearby town for study. His father, being poor and illiterate was averse to sending his son and would not agree even to his teacher's request. But the boy wanted to study at any cost and so he flew away from home. He went to a city where his struggle began. He lived the kind of life which we only get to see in movies. In daytime he used to work in factories and studied in the night. At the age when we played cricket and ate chocolates, he lived the life of a mill-worker, somehow trying to make ends meet. He tried quite hard and passed 8th standard with satisfactory marks. Somehow he was able to secure a job of a crafts-teacher in a govt. school and life became a little steady. But his struggle did not end. He continued his study and brought his younger brothers and sisters from village, educated them and enabled them to stand for themselves. Throughout the period, he was the sole source of income for the family. In the meantime he got married and his family again expanded. He never desired luxury for himself but he tried everything possible to make his children well educated and self-dependant.

He remained a simple teacher throughout his life and changed the life of many poor students who came to him and learnt the art of succeeding by working hard. So many people came in contact with this person, and his simplicity and humilty earned him respect from everyone. His life was a struggle, the struggle of a poor Indian villager who tried to be different. He was the most humble and straightforward person I have ever met and I am very proud to say that he was the father of the lady who gave birth to me. He is my hero, my idol, my God who taught me how to live life. He is my inspiration and today with wet eyes I pay my respects for the great soul who departed from this world a few days back leaving an undying remark. He might not be an important person to anybody else but his character and his life will always remain my guiding spirit.