Periyar in Pondicherry
Puducherry Municipal Council. In the year 1969. A reception was organized for Periyar on behalf of the Puducherry Municipality on the first floor of the ancient building. My father, the poet Puduvaishivam, was then Deputy Mayor of Puducherry; a Member of Parliament. He was leading the ceremony.
After the welcome ceremony, Periyar and my father who was sitting on the chairless platform were talking for a long time. I was standing a little far away. I was 13 years old then. The figure is small. I was wearing a black leg shirt and a black and red striped shirt. After talking, my father said goodbye to Periyar and got ready to go out. I showed Periyar to my father,
“I want to talk to him,” I said.
“Go and talk,” said my father.
“What should I talk about?”
“Say hello sir”
I went near Periyar holding my father’s hand, folded both my hands,
“Hello sir,” I said.
At that time, Periyar, who was carefully reading the welcome card given to him by my father, suddenly raised his head,
“Hello,” he said.
At the same time, he held both my hands tightly with his one hand. The next moment I was on his lap. Apart from the fear of causing him any discomfort. His urine was going down a tube into a glass jar in a bucket on the floor. So, I decided to jump down hastily, just in case something bothers him. He crossed his arms and held them tightly. I couldn’t keep his hands away. His hands were like the strong forelegs of a lion. However, I tried to get off his hands. holding me tight
“Sivaprakasam, is this your boy?” asked Periyar.
“Yes,” said my father.
Then bowed slightly to me,
“What are you studying?” asked Periyar.
“ninth,” I said.
Immediately laughed out loud saying “Ok ok…”
“Be Like Daddy”
Saying that Periyar kissed my scalp hard. Only after I tried to get down four or five times did the old man loosen his grip and let me down.
Grandparents are wonderful companions for young children. My grandmother died when I was four. Grandfather also died before that.
Periyar gave me the touch, compassion, affection, and scalp kiss of a grandfather.
“This is my grandfather,” I was saying to myself.
After that Periyar visited Puducherry many times. Every time I go to his meeting and sit beside or behind him so that he doesn’t see. I am afraid that he will see me and put me in his lap again. He had passed ninety years by then. After the meeting, I would stand by him until he got into the van and said goodbye and then I would return home.
That day came. 24. 12.1973. Periyar passed away. I was 17 years old then. “Grandfather is dead” I said to myself and fell silent.
To my father, he was Father Periyar. He is the grandfather of my generation.
With a heavy heart, carrying the radio set in my hand, I was sitting on the sand of the Muthialpet beach, listening to an interview on Periyar’s funeral event on Chennai radio.
My eyes were impassively watching the waves coming and going again.
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