Iron Man 4: A personal connection

In a Southern Indian state lies an imposing spiritual hill. Circling the hill on foot is considered to be a spiritual obeisance to the supreme. In that city a man held a reputation for making that round trip by foot in record time, faster than people a quarter of his age. In fact, faster than anyone. He was 84 years old then.

There was also the time when the doctor advised him that if he didn’t give up smoking four packs a day he would die that same year. In a typical display of iron will, central to his character, he kicked the addictive habit in a heart beat. He was 40 years old then. Then there’s the story of when he came to the western state of Gujarat with a pair of chappals and shorts, his wife and fifty-five rupees. He was only 19 years old then.

I still remember my class four project – my parents had chosen the wildlife photos and the storyline for my assignment. But we needed someone with pristine handwriting. It was he who wrote the creative captions for which I received numerous accolades the next day. He was 67 years old then.

Here was a man who redefined time –  if P.K Ramaswamy had just walked into work, it had to be 9 a.m – if it wasn’t, the clocks were wrong and needed adjustment. He was in his 30′s then when he earned this reputation. There was the story of how he would go to school – he would wade across the river to the school on the other side while holding his books above water. He was 12 years old then.

We knew him as the ‘Iron Man’ and as a kid I was terrified off him, being on the receiving end of numerous spankings. He used to forcibly drag me out of bed at 5:30 am and make me join him for his regular walks. As an 18 year old I couldn’t keep up with this man who was around 80 years old then.

I remember when I had visited him last and when he stubbornly walked me to the bus stop, even though he could barely walk. He kept waving at me as I shot out of view and this would be my last memory of him. He was 90 years old then.

I was in an MBA class in Melbourne in 2009 when the news floated in that he had died. I absorbed the new but didn’t shed a single tear. He was 92 years old then.

In 2010 I went with my CEO (who had recently lost his mother) to India on work. During a presentation I met an elderly man in Ahmedabad who to my surprise spoke about knowing my grandfather and the amazing things grandfather had achieved in his younger days and the hundreds of people he had helped. That night at a formal debrief with my boss I suddenly bawled my eyes out and cried for the first time since grandfather had passed away. My boss understood, saying he too cried often thinking about his mother.

Before I went to bed that night I recollected all that the elderly man had said about my grandfather and the lives he had changed. I realised one thing – he was timeless and ageless then.