AIR VICE MARSHAL K J CHANDI VSM
THE SCHOLAR, THE TEACHER, THE OFFICER, THE FARMER, THE POET
THE SCHOLAR, THE TEACHER, THE OFFICER, THE FARMER, THE POET
INTRODUCTION
Daddy, why does the river flow in only this direction? Daddy, which is the longest snake in the world? Daddy, how many countries are there in the world? Daddy, why do the trees look green while mountains covered with the same trees look blue?
Without question, the most treasured memory of my life, would be sitting in Daddy's lap as a six year old, asking him a hundred questions about history, geography, physics, chemistry, topography, tennis and world politics, long long before I even knew what any of those terms meant. With infinite patience, Daddy would explain to me the reason things were the way they were, in a manner that would pique a six year old's interest even further, only to patiently listen out, and then answer the barrage of questions that would inevitably follow. Not only was he my childhood encyclopedia, he was also my Lap of Comfort, and constantly fanned the flame of curiosity within me, turning it from the innocent spark every child is gifted with into a raging bonfire (much to the chagrin of my teachers, classmates and seniors in years to come).
My only regret while writing this Story is not having done it earlier while Daddy was still alive, when I could have accurately pieced together the wonderful adventure that was his life. Now all I have to base it on are my memory of dozens of random stories told to a child by his grandfather, over the better part of two decades, and often out of context.
THE EARLY DAYS
It all began way back in 1928 on what was going to be the Republic Day of the nation twenty two years hence. Into this world arrived the eldest of a whole dozen boys and girls, in the very lap of nature, Kerala. Like was the norm in those days, Daddy was born at his mother's home in Erattupetta, to Joseph and Aley, better known as Ichayan and Ammachi. The arrival of his first son prompted Ichayan to embark on a new beginning, and along with his family descended the mountain from Parathanam to the quaint little valley village of Koottickal. Himself built like a rock, Ichayan built his house-to-be for the next half century, Pazhe Veedu, at the very top of a hill using rock broken from a cliff face using nothing but a sledge hammer and his bare hands. This would be the home where Daddy would spend the better part of his childhood. With a new sibling arriving every couple of years, not only did Daddy grow up with an ever-increasing weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but he learnt to be an exemplary example of the human character.
Whenever Ichayan was out of home - on an errand, visiting relatives, farming or breaking rocks to build property walls, Daddy had to play the male head of the family. From getting groceries from Koottickal village four kilometres away to killing a snake that had strayed into the house, from escorting his younger sisters to school and back to helping Ammachi with housework, Daddy played an important part in home affairs.
THE SCHOLAR
The early days saw him study at the St. George's School in Koottickal where, despite not being fortunate enough to have a curiosity-piqueing grandfather like I did, he absorbed everything the teachers had to impart like a sponge. The years went by, and at the age of sixteen, with the blessing of his parents, he packed his bags and found his way to Changanacherry, continuing his education at St. Berchman's High School.
These were the years when World War II ravaged the western world, while the devastating ripples of turbulence were felt all around the globe. India in addition, was on the brink of Independence, and the freedom struggle was at its acme, strikes and protests detrimentally affecting school routine. Daddy however, did not let any of this stand in the way of his quest for knowledge, and used the professors only as guiding compasses, while the actual miles of erudition were trodden on the backbone of his books. Time flew by, and very soon, it was time for the next big decision.
The opinion of society, while beneficial within confines, could also sometimes be an ugly-headed monster. While Daddy was on the path to academic enlightenment, back in Koottickal, certain uncles suggested to Ichayan that the 'norms of society' called for his eldest son to return to Koottickal and look after the lands. While Ichayan himself had not had the good fortune to have received a formal education, the desire to see his children break the shackles of society and succeed deserves not only mention, but applause. The Uncles in question were 'thanked' for their archaic advice, and Daddy, like all his brothers and sisters after him, was given the full go-ahead by his father.
With nothing holding him back now, Daddy set his eyes on the stars. The two main colleges in South India at the time were both in Madras - Presidency College and Loyola College. Choosing the latter, Daddy chose one of the least likely subjects expected from a village boy from Koottickal - BSc Honours in Chemistry. This was the time when Daddy developed an interest in Tennis. Intensely competitive, he soon became the top seed of Loyola College. While he excelled in local tournaments and competitions, I remember him recounting with admiration, respect (and maybe a trace of disbelief), a scrawny vegetarian opponent from Presidency College (whose name I cannot remember for the life of me), the only college player who regularly beat him in Madras Constituency. Anyway, three years passed studying the constitution and interaction of living and non-living matter around him, and Daddy was awarded his Chemistry degree with flying colours. This was the place where he met some of his closest friends, who he fondly remembered all through his life - Ganeshan, G K Abraham and Franky. One day, the four of them, thoroughly inebriated, were walking around town when they saw an advertisement 'JOIN THE AIR FORCE - SEE THE WORLD'. Daring each other, they went into the booth and filled out application forms.
Now that he had reached the logical conclusion of the first Chapter of his life, that of the Scholar, he felt obliged to give back. The student had to become the teacher. He began by teaching for a few months at Loyola College itself, before he was offered a job in a College in Sri Lanka. Grabbing the opportunity with both hands, Daddy disappeared across the Palk Strait in the summer of 1949 with barely a mention to Ichayan and Ammachi. For the next year, he gave back to young Sinhalese men and women, all the knowledge he had accrued over the last twenty years. Ichayan however, did not take kindly to this overseas adventure, and through some local contacts, got through to the Ambassador of India in Sri Lanka with a request to send his son home. Soon, Daddy was back on the mainland with his tail between his legs. However, while returning home to face the music, out of the blue, he received a call for the Air Force recruitment interview at Agra. His drunken dare had paid off. Boarding a train to Agra, Daddy landed up at the Air Force Station where the interview had been planned. Standing in line right in front of him was none other than Franky Uncle. Exchanging knowing smiles, they performed well, and were both selected for training to become commissioned officers in the Indian Air Force.
THE OFFICER
Though having had just earned her Independence, the nation was still teetering from the struggle, and the thinkers of the nation were planning the road to recovery. Wanting to do his part as well, Daddy signed up for a career in the Indian Air Force, one of the primary initiatives being taken towards rehabilitation of the country.
After having joined the Logistics branch and undergoing basic training at the Academy in Sulur, Coimbatore, Daddy was commissioned into the Indian Air Force in 1953, and coincidentally his first posting was to the same unit. The highlight of this tenure was getting married to Ruby Emmanuel of Ramapuram House, Palai better known as Acca to those close to her. Introducing Acca to the Air Force way of life, he was pleasantly surprised by how smoothly she accustomed herself to the military way of things. While he continued to shine on the tennis court, he decided to try his hand at, and ended up excelling at hockey as well.
From Coimbatore, Daddy and Mummy then moved east to Avadi in 1954, where Jojo was born. Three years went by as a junior officer before he was posted to Bangalore. The charming and likeable gentlemen he was, Daddy made great friends everywhere he went. It was here in Bangalore that Daddy reached the pinnacle of his sporting career, becoming both the Services Tennis Champion as well as a member of the Air Force hockey team. A year into his Bangalore tenure, Mani came into the world. Two more years passed before it was time to move again.
This time he was selected for deputation to London, as part of a sensitive Air Logistics assignment with the Indian Embassy. Now a family of four, this was a big move for him. His boss, Group Captain G B Singh, was a strict, yet colourful Sardar, who always had a wise crack up his sleeve. Even till late in life, Daddy had fond memories of dear old G B, mention of whom would always bring a reminiscing smile to his face. It was during this time that Mummy's brother Emmanuel, in his efforts to charm the beautiful young Italian girl Lily, had to weather out a year in the English drizzle staying with Daddy and Mummy, in order to respect Lily Aunty's father's wishes to give his daughter away only after she had reached the age of eighteen. Closely involved in a number of crucial military deals between the governments, Daddy rose in experience and stature during his tenure here.
Returning from England in 1964, it was time for Daddy to move from the excitement of operational billets and foreign postings to the drudgery of a desk job in Delhi. Jojo and Mani, initially enrolled in St. Xavier's School, Delhi were later transferred to boarding school at the Lawrence School, Lovedale to enable them a more stable education. Daddy then spent a decade and a half in Delhi, with the exception of 1969. While Neil Armstrong made it to the moon and back, Daddy spent the year doing short stints in Chandigarh and Bidar. Getting promoted from Wing Commander to Group Captain to Air Commodore and finally to Air Vice Marshal while in Delhi, Daddy and Mummy were the default local guardians for any member of the Konthiamadom or Ramapuram families, as well as a host of other acquaintances who studied in, or wished to visit Delhi.
An interesting anecdote that I remember Daddy recalling regarding this time was when Jojo, who had joined the Merchant Navy, decided to return home unannounced after twenty four continuous months at sea. Having grown a wild beard and long hair, he was a frightening sight indeed. On leave from the Merchant Navy, he decided to surprise Daddy and Mummy by arriving early. It was four in the morning when he arrived home braving the freezing temperature. Knocking on the French Windows of the Delhi house, teeth chattering in the bone chilling cold, he desperately hoped to be let in quickly, regretting his decision to land up at this unearthly hour. Finally, the clattering woke Mummy up. Making her way to the living room, she cautiously peeped out at the silhouette of the man on her porch. Stumped, she returned to the bedroom and woke Daddy up, saying there was a Beggar(Dharmakaran) on the doorstep. Daddy, armed with a torch, cautiously opened the front door, only to find it was his son - looking like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Not surprisingly, while he was allowed into the house for the moment because of the cold outside, he was officially accepted back into the family only after he had had a haircut and shave first thing after the sun rose.
In the last few years of his illustrious career in the Air Force, Daddy attended the National Defence College, soon after which he was promoted to the rank of Air Vice Marshal, and was subsequently awarded the Vishist Seva Medal. Finally, as his thirty third year in the smart blue uniform drew to a close, he decided to finally draw the curtain on a career of wonderful accomplishments. 31 Jan 1984 saw Daddy hang up his uniform, and step out onto Civvy Street.
THE FARMER AND THE POET
Post retirement, Daddy's initial plan was to build a house and settle down in Chennai. Though he did complete the construction in a year, along with it he had a change of heart. Despite the lure of the numerous conveniences that city life provided, he did not want to spend his retirement breathing in the pollution and getting caught up in the rat race that inevitably came with it. After weighing the pros and cons, the heart prevailed and the decision to return to his hometown, Koottickal was taken (a decision which Daddy often recalled as the best one he had ever taken in his life).
Returning to Koottickal, he set about buying a property on the banks of the Koottickal river and building a house. Next, he set up a rubber factory in Kokkayar, investing a lot of money and effort into it. However, at this point, an unfortunate incident occurred where he was swindled of both the factory as well as his life's savings by a family member. Never one to give up or break down, he got back on his feet, and taking a loan, started another factory with Jojo's help. Having learnt from his earlier mistakes of trusting the wrong people, this time they made it work.
In the next couple of years, Daddy settled into retired country life. From attracting a thousand incredulous village stares during his and Mummy's sacrosanct morning walk, to making it a point of attending every single function he was invited to, Daddy soon rose in stature, prominence and respect in the eyes of society. In 1987, Daddy took over Presidency of the ailing Mundakayam Club and pumped life blood back into it. Taking an initially unpopular, and hence difficult decision, Daddy banned the playing of cards, the club's primary source of income. Generating new methods of sustenance, he almost single handedly converted the institution from a shady Gentleman's haunt to a lively Family Club that welcomed and encouraged participation of Ladies and Children to their functions. The next few years witnessed Daddy and Mummy become grandparents, and along with it saw a mindset change take place as well. The stern, disciplined retired officer transformed into a 'Lap of Comfort' whenever any of us grandchildren got a firing from Papa or Mama.
On the sporting front, as expected, Daddy with his explosive Serve and Volley game continued to rule the roost at the Mundakayam Club for a number of years before age, and together with it opponents half his age caught up. Rather than continue playing with a deteriorating game, at the ripe age of Seventy, Daddy stepped down, and let the next generation of budding veterans carry the game forward. With regard to tennis, the only regret I have is not having been able to have played a game of singles with Daddy. His last days on the court were when I was still learning the basics of the forehand and backhand, and within a year, by the time I was ready for a game, it was too late. However, even after he hung up his racquet and tennis shoes, Daddy would regularly enquire about all of our progress and tell us stories about his tennis career and opponents over the years, constantly pushing us to improve on our weak areas.
It was around this time that the Farmer in Daddy arose from a generation long slumber. His love for exotic plants from distant lands combined with his study of the flora of the region saw the land around the house transform from a wild, messy property to a Botanical Garden of sorts.
On the literary front, Daddy was an avid reader. Every morning, he would spend one hour reading the newspaper from cover to cover. In the evening he would spend a similar one hour watching BBC, assimilating news from around the Globe. Apart from current affairs, Daddy loved collecting and studying books on science, the inquisitive village child from six decades prior reawakening within him. From Botany and Zoology, to Quantum Mechanics and Space Exploration, there was always a book on Science within an arm's reach of any of his chairs. With a penchant for Malayalam poetry, he would often recite hymns by Kumaranashan, while rhythmically tapping palm on thigh.
In Kuttikanam, I have fond memories of numerous walks with Daddy, down to the Dam and Cave, to Magic Mountain (the other side of which Daddy had us children convinced that a wizard lived), to the Secret Lake (which I believed Daddy and I discovered, and we kept a secret from everybody else) and to the Travancore King's supposedly haunted Summer Palace.
THE CLOSE
In August 2014, Daddy fell and broke his right forearm. As it was discovered that he had a low platelet count, forceful requests from doctor relatives in the United States saw him being moved from Mundakayam Medical Trust to the ICU in Amrita Institute in Kochi, a traumatic road transfer for an octagenarian with a broken arm. With no family allowed to be near him, and other patients dying all around, Daddy, who always believed in living life large, despite the warrior within, finally failed to see the reason to hang on with tubes and machines keeping him alive. The trauma he faced during these last days was unpleasant, unnecessary and avoidable, and the family learnt an important lesson with regard to 'advice' from 'over-qualified' doctors from the West. 
I had the best possible childhood a little boy could hope for, and considerable credit goes to Daddy, my Grandfather, my out-of-curriculum Teacher and most importantly my Lap of Comfort.
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