Bharat's precious ratna
The pain of the death of Abdul Kalam was felt all across India, cutting across race, religion, creed, age. And it is this quality which makes Kalam what he is – a true Indian. He lived a life which was beyond religion; for him religion was just a way of communicating with the Almighty, a personal thing. He never brandished his religion; in fact majority of us, when it came to Kalam did not even think whether he was a Muslim or Hindu; we just celebrated our good fortune that we had someone like Kalam amongst us. And that was the greatness of this man.
I remember, a year or two ago, there was a show at Shanmukhananda Hall, Mumbai. It was a unique show – to commemorate ordinary heroes in our day-to-day lives – like the man who cremates unclaimed dead bodies, the man who feeds street beggars through his own small income and many more such extraordinary souls. And to give away the awards to these humane human beings, who could have been a better choice than Kalam!
He arrived promptly at the given time; the moment word got out that his car had come at the entrance, believe it or not, the entire auditorium stood up voluntarily and gave him a standing ovation. The thunderous applause began before Kalam even entered the hall and continued till he walked up to the stage and urged us all to stop so that he could speak! Such a spontaneous show of love and respect, I have never ever witnessed. In that one moment, it became quite clear that he was a true leader of the masses, loved by all for his simple living and high thinking. His humility and honesty came forth like sparkling gems. Indeed he was the most unpresidential President. In fact, it would be no exaggeration to say that he brought a lot of respect to the seat of Presidency, which most of the times remained as a mere rubber stamp.
Kalam lived a full life and his story is an inspiration for all of us that success is not impossible. He breathed his last doing what he loved – inspiring and igniting young minds. Indeed a very fortunate death, to die right in his boots; that is precisely how Kalam would have liked to go. Salute to this noble soul and feel fortunate that we lived at a time when he was alive.
And yes, it is ironic that we gush out with all these emotions and wax eloquent about a person only when he passes on. Why don’t we celebrate people like this when they are alive?