My Father-A Tribute; : Deepak Budki

My Father - A Tribute;

                                                                                     -----Deepak Budki

    My father, born in 1916, played two roles during his life: that of the father and that of the mother, since he lost his wife very early in 1962. 

   Pt Radha Krishen Budki, alias Pt Nila Kanth Budki, was a thorough gentleman who rarely got angry or put on a stern, fatherly face. Despite facing many hardships in life, both physical and financial, he provided us with all the facilities we deserved. He owned two shops, SUDESH ARTS AND CRAFTS, one on the Bund with rare facing Polo ground chowk and the other in the Central Market bearing number 115, where he used to sell wood carving and papier mache. I often went to the Bund shop (after the sale was rechristened Ganemede) hoping he would take me to the nearby famous restaurant, The Ahdoos, either for lunch or for tea. 

    In 1961, he joined the Kashmir Govt Arts Emporium as Manager, but faced many official problems there, which strained his finances. Within a year, he sold both his shops and also lost his wife. He had to manage his family, comprising three daughters besides me, on a meagre consolidated salary of Rs 200/- pm due to some misunderstanding in the office. Worse still, he had a fall from his bicycle twice, breaking his hip bone, and his ankle swelled up like an elephantiasis patient due to a huge snow-laden signboard falling on his foot. All this happened during just one winter. Thanks to a local healer and bone setter, he recovered from all three accidents in about six months. He was working at the Kashmir Govt Arts Emporium (A Unit of the J&K Handicrafts Corporation) at the time and did not receive his salary. But he braved it all. 

    He was very keen that his children should be well educated. He used to say that if I had to beg, borrow, or steal for children's education, I should not hesitate to do so. It was this keenness that led him to shift me from a Government School in Nawakadal to DAV Higher Secondary School, Amira Kadal, which was 3-4 km from my home, and I used to ride my bicycle to school. The shift paid rich dividends, as the teachers there were good educators and took a keen interest in students' personality development. I obtained my M.Sc. (Bot.) and B.Ed. degrees, and so did my elder sister, who, however, pursued postgraduate studies in Zoology. Other sisters also got an adequate education.  

    After his retirement, my father worked as an LIC agent and was very successful at selling insurance. We continued to receive the hereditary agency commission long after his death. 

    He got me inducted into the same Emporium where he, too, was serving, and that, too, as Assistant Manager, at a monthly basic salary of Rs 140/-. I made many attempts to change my profession, but he was not happy with my decision to join the teaching department in Delhi, where I was selected as a PGT in 1973. He did not help me get the MD's approval so that I could hand over my charge. The reason was that he despised the teaching profession and wanted me to become a Business Executive.  

    Left with no choice, I appeared in the IAS and Allied Services Examination in 1975 and was allotted to the Indian Postal Service. I still remember the glee on his face when I went to his LIC office at Lal Chowk to announce that I had qualified in my written examination of the IAS and Allied Services. Perhaps to be doubly sure, he took me to the Press Information Bureau office and personally checked my roll no (2050). Thereafter, only the interview remained, which I cleared in due course. I qualified only for Allied Services, not for IAS/IFS, but secured the 5th position in the merit list. Since I had chosen the Indian Postal Service as my first option, I was allotted to it. Fortunately, I was also able to don the military uniform by going on deputation to the Army Postal Service for nine long years and return to my department as Lt Col.

    I always miss his cool, calm demeanour and patience, as I don't possess either. At times, I wonder how much he must have suffered, having lived alone without a partner for almost a quarter of a century.  (Pic: My father with my elder son >)

    I must confess that I could not be a worthy son to my father and could not look after him when he needed me the most. There were reasons for that, but the biggest reason was my whimsicality, stubbornness and hot-headedness. I have paid the price for that. But cannot atone for it at this stage when he is not with me.  

    My father breathed his last on 07 May 1986. At this stage, all that I can do is pray for his soul to rest in peace. Om Shanti Om.

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