How I Taught My Grandmother to Read and other Stories Read online

  I was thrilled.

  ‘Sir, you don’t know me but I know a lot about you. I have read about your life in the book Wings of Fire.’

  ‘But I too know about you by reading your columns. I read Ananda Vikatan regularly, where you talk about your dreams and your struggles. Today when I read ‘IT Divide’ in the Week, I laughed and laughed. You have written on a tough topic in such a humorous way! I called my colleagues in the office and told them to read the column. Normally whenever your column appears, I read the last paragraph first because it contains the gist. Then I read the remaining portion as and when I get time.’

  That was the best compliment I had ever received. When I write, I always think of the end first and then the beginning. Kalam seemed to have guessed that in no time.

  I had heard from many people that he is extremely simple, wears only white and blue shirts and slippers. Soon I got to know that this was not an exaggeration. After our talk on the phone I met him several times. Till today, the more often I meet him, the more I am convinced about the essential simplicity of the man. Any interaction with him is a joy and I always look forward to it.

  I met him for the first time in Bangalore. He sent me word that he wanted to see me though he had a packed schedule. I was waiting for him in a room when he came in, looking cool inspite of a long tough day. For a while we talked about literature and human qualities. He asked me in chaste Tamil, ‘How come you know such good Tamil?’

  ‘No sir,’ I replied, ‘I can’t speak Tamil but I can understand. My translator, Mr Arokia Velu is an excellent translator. The credit for what appears in Ananda Vikatan should go to him.’

  As we chatted, a man without a prior appointment wanted to enter. Kalam’s security personnel were reluctant to let him enter. Finally Mr Kalam said, ‘Please allow him. It does not matter. He might have come from a long distance.’

  A middle-aged man entered the room along with a photographer. He was holding a huge album and a bag. He told Kalam, ‘Sir, I own this institution,’ and kept the album in front of him. ‘Please come for our Prize Distribution Day. It will be a great honour for all of us.’

  Kalam looked at a few pages of the album and said, ‘I am short of time so I will not be able to make it. May God bless the children.’

  Then the man requested for a photograph with Kalam, to which he agreed immediately. The gentleman took a pink-coloured shawl from his bag and told the photographer to take his photo while he was laying the shawl on Kalam’s shoulder.

  The photograph was duly taken and Kalam thanked him and continued talking to me. But my attention was still on the man. I noticed that he took back the shawl and walked out of the room. I could not control my anger.

  ‘Sir, he has taken the shawl which he presented to you.’

  Kalam smiled at me and said, ‘It does not matter. I don’t need any one of them. Probably he needs it.’

  Each time I meet him, I am amazed at his straightforward behaviour and his secular outlook. He has a compassionate heart which particularly loves all children.

  After that meeting, whenever I was in Chennai, I would see him in his chamber in Anna University where he was teaching. We would talk about many issues, the main one being about education, particularly in the rural areas. He is extremely grateful to his teachers and holds them in the highest respect.

  Once I was sharing my experiences in Chandipur, Orissa and a lesson I learnt from a young fisherboy called Javed. He was a poor schoolboy who helped his mother sell red crabs. For an entire day’s work he received only Rs 5. Yet he was happy and enthusiastic. When I asked him how he could always remain so optimistic, he said, ‘It is better to be worn out than to be rusted.’

  As soon as I told this story to him, Kalam wrote Javed’s words down on a piece of paper and exclaimed what a great piece of advice it was. He told me that he liked Orissa immensely, as he had spent many years in that state doing missile tests.

  ‘If you are doing something in Orissa I will definitely come. I know you work there and that state is very dear to your heart too.’

  Once, I decided to visit Rameshwaram, along with a group of friends. When Kalam got to know, he was very eager to go with us as it is his birthplace. He said he would join us at the Madurai railway station. He had made all the arrangements when his nomination for the post of President of India was announced. He told me, ‘We will keep the plan open for Rameshwaram.’

  By this time I was sure he was going to be the President of India irrespective of the election. We could not ask him to join us as it could be a major security problem for him. Sadly I had to tell him, ‘No sir, please do not come. We will go on our own.’

  By the time we returned from the trip, he had, as I had predicted, been elected President. He invited me to his swearing-in ceremony in the central hall of Parliament. What I saw when I stepped into the hall amazed me. It was filled with children, teachers, his family members, odd people like me and Father George, who used to be my student in Bangalore and then was doing his research under Kalam in Anna University.

  It was a most unusual oath-taking ceremony. Everyone seemed to be close to Kalam. Normally, such ceremonies are attended by industrialists, politicians and other VIPs. But here there were students, teachers, scientists, ordinary middle-class people and friends of Kalam. I saw Mrinalini Sarabhai, whose husband the late Dr Vikram Sarabhai, was also a great scientist and knew Kalam well. Her sister, Captain Laxmi, had contested against Kalam for the post of President. She, too, was present in the audience.

  I came away from the function feeling deeply moved by the love I saw everyone showering on Kalam. After a few months, I asked my son, who is a teenager, to meet Kalam.

  My son said, ‘Amma, he is the President of our country. He is a learned and well-respected scientist. He is a very busy man. What will he talk about to a person like me?’

  ‘Child, please understand. I knew him before he became the President and I have met him after he became President. There is absolutely no change. He loves talking to people of your age. That is his mission. He interacts with children through email and chat. That is the reason I want you to meet him. Learn from him those qualities which you will never learn in any university.’

  Somehow my son was not very convinced. ‘He is too big a man for me,’ he muttered.

  Nevertheless, he was there when we had dinner with Kalam. For the next two hours they hijacked the entire conversation. Murthy and I could only sit and listen. They discussed the best operating systems for computers, the great Tamil saint Thiruvalluvar and his teachings, the future of the children of India, teaching methodologies in America, etc. After he left, my son told me, ‘Amma, I never felt that I was talking to the President of India. Rather, it was like talking to my grandfather whom I loved so much and lost four years back. Amma, what you said was true and not at all an exaggeration.’

  When Kalam went by train on a tour of Bihar, he invited me to go with him along with five other friends. There I saw another face of Kalam. He would work more than all of us. His schedule would start at 6.30 or 7 a.m. and end at 10.30 or 11 p.m. At seventy-one years, he was tireless and the most enthusiastic person in the team, all of whom were much younger than him.

  He would regularly address large groups of students, followed by question-answer sessions. He would take individual questions and answer them. Then he would make the children recite some of the important lines after him. He reminded me of a loving schoolteacher or a doting grandfather or an excellent friend to these children irrespective of the difference in age.

  During Bangalore’s IT.Com I watched him taking an internet class for thousand students. He held their complete attention and was excellently prepared.

  When we built a 150-bed Paediatric Hospital in Bhubaneshwar, Orissa for poor children, I was very keen that he should come and inaugurate it. I remembered his promise made to me in Chennai that he would come to Orissa if I invited him. But now he was the President of India, and there were many people like me i