Happy Birthday, Dad!

Today is my Father's birthday.

I called him early this morning to wish him. My father, as usual, is working. He is a simple man who is totally committed to his work.

Today, he is conducting his weekly Sunday medical aid visits to far off islands around Kochi. He has to travel by a boat and then take a ferry to reach these islands. With a team of like minded, highly committed doctors and pharmacists, he spends his birthday helping and healing many neglected and sick people who have no access to doctors, hospitals or medicines.  The expenses are borne by him and this team. He has been doing this for more than twelve years. 

Today, too, though it is his birthday, he is with them. There is no cake, no celebration, nothing to felicitate the remarkable man that he is. But his life is his message. There is no artifice to him. He is as simple and humble as a person can be. He doesn't like any kind of ostentation. He believes in simplicity, like a religion or something. He takes it very seriously. And the only time you will find my dad in a 'party' or 'celebration mode' is when his daughters are with him. Otherwise, he withdraws into his world of work.

I remember an occasion, an inauguration of a project for mentally handicapped children with which my father is closely associated. The occasion had Dr. K.J. Yeshudas inaugurating it. The doctor in charge introduced the great singer to every one and to my father, as well, who stood in the background, never wanting to catch the limelight in anyway.

Suddenly. Dr. KJ Yeshudas exclaimed to the doctor who was introducing them, "Hey, you are introducing me to my friend who studied in the same school with me? I have eaten from his place more than my own. His sister, Shantha teacher is my favorite teacher and almost like my mother."

Then he said, to Dad,  "Raghu, its been so long since we met, let me talk with you and I want to meet Shantha teacher now."

The doctors there were so surprised because Dad had never told anyone that he knew the singer since childhood.

But you know what? That's one of the reasons why I adore my dad, as do so many people. He never tries to hog the limelight. In fact, he hates any kind of unnecessary attention on himself.

When we decided to go on the Dubai trip, a Muslim patient came home in distress - a young lady in purdah - and she said to us, "If Doctor goes, whom do we have for our children when they are sick? We have no one if Doctor goes." That trust, that love - it cannot be bought with money. It comes from the heart.

The first time one of my articles was published, I was one proud teenager. While my dad read it and said, wistfully, "I feel so happy to see your name in print and that my name is next to yours. Of course, it will change with time."


I told Dad right there, "My name will never change with time, I will always have your name next to mine no matter what." I've kept my word to him.

It makes me proud to be Swapna Raghu. The truth is that without his name next to mine, I would never be me.  I'd not be existing.

Happy Birthday, Dr. C.R. Raghu! I love you.