A life well lived

MY FATHER, T. Mathiaparanam (probably the only person in Malaysia with this name), came from Sri Lanka to Malaysia in 1934, at the age of 19, to seek greener pastures. He got to work as a temporary clerk; later, on a permanent basis; and finally as a chief clerk with Public Works Department (or JKR, in Bahasa Malaysia).

Dad married my mother in 1942 and got to be a father of eight children.

Though a good 45 years have passed since his demise in 1972, it is never too late to write a tribute to my father.

My dad showered his love and affection on each and every one of us in his very own special way. As all five fingers on our hand are not the same, so each of us had our own personality and ideosyncrasies.

He never ever raised his voice or a finger at any of us.

He left the “stage” in 1972, when I was still a teenager. Only with the passing of time have I come to appreciate and value the greatness in him.

One instance of his love and empathy towards me is etched in my memory till today. I was in Standard 4 and it was my school sports day. Dad quietly sneaked into my school in his “Rolls Royce” (huge bicycle) to watch me in action. But, alas, sad to say, I didn’t match up to his expectations – no podium finish and no medals.

With disappointment written all over his face, he must have “driven off” to the sports shop and bought a silver cup – which he presented to me when I returned home from school.

My sporting great has to be my father, who excelled in athletics and volleyball in his prime.

By nature, dad was a very sporting person, very generous to people, extremely soft-hearted and wellloved by all, especially the Ceylonese fraternity of Pahang.

My father lived a flamboyant lifestyle. He was a happy-go-lucky guy. His forte was his vocal cords. Being a naturally gifted Tamil classical karnatic singer of the superlative degree, he was always called upon to sing at functions.

His passing away was sudden and untimely, but one which was beautifully “choreographed”.

On that fateful day (July 23, 1972), the Ceylonese Association of Kuantan organised a get-together picnic at the Beserah beach. My father got to meet all his friends and relatives, and had a merry time.

Upon returning home, he had a pleasant surprise to see his eldest daughter, son-in-law and his two granddaughters whom he so adored. In the euphoria of pampering and playing with his granddaughters, he received a “sudden call from the Almighty”, and that was it – a really beautiful passing of ways, said by all who loved him dearly. We couldn’t have asked for a better script to depart.

Though time is slowly inching towards the half-century mark of my father’s demise, he is always remembered by all his loved ones.