The ‘Travelling Man’

Gauri Parasher Joshi

AS an IAS officer, he embraced the idea of visiting every corner of his jurisdiction. After-office hours were also full of movement. He would pick up his hardy vehicle for a midnight trip to the hills (for the sake of a friend's child aching to see snow!). He has been averse to being stationary. 

He has been asked for advice by family and acquaintances. There isn’t a person I know that can grasp a situation and give life-saving advice, like he does. I should know, for he helped me resolve my first law-and-order problem, and then others. And he is a writer and a photographer, albeit one who doesn’t try enough to project his work. 

He voluntarily became witness to defend the state in a case of the irrigation department. When I asked if this was a part of his duty since he had retired, he replied with a firm ‘yes’. The questioning ended after a tedious 11 months and not without a compliment from the lawyer who had expected to give him a difficult time but had found him in command of the subject. 

I learnt to listen carefully when he spoke, even take notes, for the exquisite connect between his thoughts clarified so much to me as I grew. Years ago, he drew a diagram to tell me the difference between going deep into a subject and spreading one’s wings to look at things laterally. “You cover a wider area through the latter method,” he had said. Yet, I’ve seen how he can analyse deeper than a subject expert. In the ’80s, when few were comfortable with computers, he would fix the glitches in his desktop without professional assistance. Today, when the world is in a frenetic search for specialisation sans analysis, one bemoans the absence of the ‘Jack of all traits’. Incidentally, the IAS is meant to be one of generalists. We are supposed to be able to grasp a subject in a very short time and take an integrated view of it. I’ve learnt this from my father. 

He would say excessive focus on the destination takes away from the joy of travelling. My parents have been an adventurous couple. They would go trekking and wading through streams looking for eroded stones and driftwood. I found the idea of drifting most pleasant, even romantic. One didn’t have to worry too much about not getting somewhere because the waters moulded one into something new. Drifting helps one grow. Drifting helps one grow. It’s like lateral study. You have life flowing beneath you and the world passing you on either side. What better environment can a learner hope for!

When recently he took off in his off-roader to Kacchativu island in Sri Lanka, it came as no surprise. We nearly placed a sticker that screamed “Travelling Man” on his vehicle, for he fit the picture of ‘Uncle Travelling Man’ from Fraggle Rock to perfection. My mother had to vent her worries to me on the phone. Stocked with camping equipment, he drove 42 days and nights to attend the festival of St Anthony with some fishermen from Kanyakumari. He is now back, much to our relief. My mother knows that his homecoming is but a break in his daring travels. For now though, it’s time to listen to sun-burnt Papa’s stories and enjoy the photographs he is sure to have been taking of life, along his drive across our country and back home.