iRADiX

What exists appears,

Lets itself be encountered

But you can never deduce it.

Nausea, Pg 188.

Jean Paul Sartre,Existentialist Philosopher

Of the many things we shared, it was the love of the written word that bound us the most.

Every family is a ghost story

In Mitch Albom’s “For one more day” he writes about a story about a family and as there is a ghost involved you might call it a ghost story. But every family is a ghost story. The dead sit at our tables long after they have gone. Ask yourself this-Have you ever lost someone you love and wanted one more conversation, one more chance to make up for the time when you thought they would be here forever?

If so, then you know you can go your whole life collecting days, and none will outweigh the one you wish you had back.

This feeling of “One more chance for a conversation” comes strongly today, as I recall dear LC Uncle.

He taught us many little things about life.

A brief summary of his achievements

PADMASHREE DR.L.C.GUPTA, MD (RADIOLOGY) MD (PSM)
Retired as Director, Medical Services, Border Security Forces(BSF)
Holder of World record of writing 112 Medical books.
Born: 10th July 1939 Died: 27th May 2010

He was awarded the Padma Shri in 2010,Dr. B.C.Roy National Award in 1988, President's Police Medal for distinguished Service in 1993.

He joined Border Security Forces (BSF) on June 7,1966 and retired on July 31,1997 as Director Medical Services .

He wrote 112 medical books, a world record. He had 65 scientific papers in national and international journals and served as Medical Advisor to the Editorial Board of the Indian Medical Gazette and Current Medical Practice.

An Artist

His miscellaneous achievements include giving a One Man Show of painting in London in 1962. He delivered 39 talks on All India Radio and Television.

He served as a resource person in the expert group on leadership development in Health care, WHO in 1987.

Some personal recollections

But today ,as I remember him, I recall LC Uncle the man, simple and smiling.

Many were the times when we would be working in the “dead” evening shift in the MRI centres at Green Park -Delhi and LC uncle would come and tickle our brains with his insights. Then we would go to Aurobindo place market and read some books, have chaat in front of Free Church.

LC uncle, simple and smiling,faced many worldly people with a smile and one of his favorite phrases was

Mujhe Ae Duniya Walon Kum Na Samjho

Mere Phatey Hue Kapdon ko mera kaphan na samjho

Do not take my torn clothes for my coffin.

His sons called me “Uncle” though they were only a few years younger than me.

Why? I asked.

We call all our father’s friends Uncle, they replied, making me realize that whenever I went to his house, I usually enjoyed conversing with LC uncle and hardly talked with the sons (beyond the cursory obligatory Hello..how are you) though they were closer to me in biological age.

Our trails together-In Search of John Lang

He was a friend and fellow-traveller...

We once went to Sardhana (around 40 kilometers from Meerut) together searching for the tomb of the 19^th century writer John Lang, mentioned in a beautiful article by India’s Wordsworth in prose-Ruskin Bond. (Only a friend like LC Uncle would have come with me there). We never found the tomb of John Lang, but discovered the Basilica there with centuries old tombstones and lovely marble statues..a rich day in photography and travel.

Following the trail of John Lang helped us rediscover a link to Gwalior.

John Lang the writer was also a lawyer and had represented Rani Laxmibai of Jhansi.

As all of us Indians know it was at the Gwalior fort where Rani Laxmibai of Jhansi was turned away when she was fleeing the colonial forces in 1857.

LC Uncle was from Gwalior and I remember a trip around a decade ago-in December 2001 when I visited Gwalior –fondly invited by LC uncle for his son’s marriage.

A lovely afternoon spent on the Gwalior fort ramparts, watching the sun going down, wondering what would have gone on in the mind of Rani Laxmibai on that fateful noon…

Later I followed the trails of John Lang and the Basilica of Sardhana (Meerut) and discovered the stories of Begum Zumroo and many lovely statues at the St.James Church of Delhi. There are many interesting stories associated with these places, the trials of the Skinners (Skinner’s horse is the oldest Cavalry regiment of the Indian army) and the valour of William Fraser (those interested can read William Dalyrymple’s lovely books on these).

But it all started one afternoon..when LC uncle and I went searching (unsuccessfully) for the tomb of the 19^th century writer –John Lang.

Beyond awards and accolades.

As I remember LC Uncle, the man, the words of the writer Virginia Woolf written in 1932 come to mind.

I have sometimes dreamt that when the Day of Judgement dawns and the great conquerors and lawyers and statesmen come to receive their rewards-their crowns, their laurels, their names carved indelibly upon imperishable marble-the Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy when He sees us coming with our books under our arms.

“Look, these need no reward.

We have nothing to give them here

They have loved reading”

***

Of the many things we shared, it was the love of the written word that bound us the most.