Typical that a man, who represented a bygone era, should have such a long forgotten musical tradition to bid him goodbye.
Illustration/Uday Mohite
One day you’ll realise that material things mean nothing, all that matters is the well-being of the people you love
Take the stories people throw at you and build a monument
—Ratan Tata
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For 35 years, I lived close to Ratan Tata. The moment of true proximity came when he built his own bungalow, literally ten yards left of my building. I’d enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the sea till then, so when I heard this news of the impending construction, I panicked. South Mumbai had just witnessed a monstrosity come up, another business tycoon, had built a tower, looming into the sky, effectively destroying the landscape. Would a massive structure obliterate my sea view?
I needn’t have worried, this was Mr Simple Accommodation. In fact, he was till last Tuesday, my mother’s neighbour—her windows looked out at his home, his swimming pool, his tasteful garden, his bevy of dogs, and you’d never know that the Chairman Emeritus of Tata Sons, lived next door to my mom. No heavily armed black commandos, no sniffer canines, no noise, “no taam-jaam”, no traffic jams. Just a simple man living in a simple home.
The morning he passed away, I watched as the red “suited booted” band played, accompanying the hearse as it headed to the National Centre for the Performing Arts for the final rites.
Typical that a man, who represented a bygone era, should have such a long forgotten musical tradition to bid him goodbye.
The outpouring of sorrow at the demise of Mr Tata, have to say, surprised me, with its unanimity—clearly this wasn’t an over-the-hill octogenarian, who was way past his sell-by-date—he was a living breathing gentleman, leaving in his wake, kindness and kinship, a remembrance of an India we used to know, non-toxic, non-troll-ised, non-terrorised, when culture and civilised behaviour existed, untainted.
This was a man, that generations valued because he had values—in a nation consumed by arrogance and anarchy, where might is right, where ruthlessness is celebrated as a virtue, where flaunting ones wealth is the norm, where intolerance, insensitivity and inauthenticity rule, he was an exceptional exception.
There was a solitude about him, a counterpoint to the white noise that consumes one’s lives
For a man, whose profession demanded profit, he kept his passions alive.
When other businessmen were inviting Snoop Dogg to perform at their functions, he merely trained his loving dogs to perform dutifully. Plus flying jets.
Ratan Tata had a generosity of spirit, we shall miss.
Goodbye sir, we shall celebrate your life, as we mourn your passing—thank you for your old-school attitude, which co-existed so harmoniously with your new age ideas. That you always thought for the common man, the Nano for example could and should have been the greatest invention in India. We could do with more men like you, non-scoundrels, non-scamsters, non-swindlers, non-“success means I can get away with anything”- just upright, unostentatious, upstanding, unique human beings. A man who could back a big idea when he saw it. A man who contributed to no less than 50 start-ups.
A man who kept the family flag flying when independent mutinies threatened. A man who took an institution and built it into an invincible asset. A kind, good, generous man, In an era dominated by AI and artificiality, Ratan Tata was the OG. Avjo sir.
Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at [email protected]
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