Goodbye to the story teller extraordinaire
Night after night, when my little six-year-old cuddles up to me in anticipation of a new hero’s tale from the Mahabharata, Uncle Pai has always been there to help me remember how an Abhimanyu pierces the Chakravyuha or how Babruvahana makes it to the Kurukshetra to his father’s rescue. Blood and gore apart, the tales he had once upon a time told me still reverberate in me thoughts of the victory of good over evil. And, that makes me pass it on to my enthusiastic kid who loves to sleep thinking of these heroes and the heroines of the mythical yore.
This afternoon, as every website I visit tells me the news of the passing away of Uncle Pai, I get transported to my school days when my father made it a point to buy me and my sister at least two copies of the Amar Chitra Katha every month. This happened without fail till we – me and my sister - thought we had grown up beyond that so-called childish chitra katha regime.
Uncle Pai is no more. But then, tears fail to roll down my cheeks even as I confirm the death of the man who told me tales of even the most inconsequential asura or a rare weak meek soldier in the Kaurava ranks. Mahabharata, Ramayana and even modern age personalities and saints who did the universe proud by their inventions and thoughts were whispered into my inner ear by this man, who for me, had been the master story teller of granny tales. For me, in fact, Uncle Pai never dies. He never can.
Reading aloud every new copy of the latest Amar Chitra Katha volume had spurred in me the reader I am today. May be, the varied volumes have even influenced the way I write too. It isn’t just me, though. Hundreds of thousands of kids still continue to learn the subtly told narratives of the mythical and historical realms by way of those enticingly illustrated pages churned out in quick succession month after month from the Amar Chitra Katha presses.
And, every page that taught me and the kids of my ilk during our formative years still continues to educate us, every time we revisit those days. Duryodhana, Krishna, Bhima, Ghatotkacha, Pururavas, Uloopi, Gandhari, Mandodari and Urmila still talk to me, spurring me to run down memory lane where good always triumphed over evil. At an age when the Sanskrit slokas failed to dwell in my tongue and heart, Uncle Pai had been there for me as the quintessential tutor, story teller and guide to the mythical and historical texts.
Even as I narrate to the sanctum sanctorum of the mind a fresh tale from the Mahabharata that will be the sweetest lullaby for my daughter tonight, Uncle Pai seems to be bidding goodbye. May be, he has already stuffed his pockets with innumerable stories he can narrate from now on to the beings of the other world, up above.
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