His Religion Was Human: Remembering a Father Who Redefined Success

A question frequently crosses my mind: Are leaders born with an innate quality of leadership, or do circumstances forge them? Even if circumstances create a leader, there must be an underlying intent a fierce determination to use those challenges as a springboard rather than surrendering to them.

Whatever the case may be, my father was a leader. It breaks my heart that I must now speak of him in the past tense.

In my last Father’s Day article, I wrote about how he would sit and recall his lifelong service to society and his loved ones, even as his world grew quiet and dark, constrained by failing vision and hearing. There is no doubt that his leadership was extraordinary; he served the people despite the hostilities, resistance, and insults he sometimes faced. His intent was entirely noble: to lift the community as a whole. With that singular goal in sight, the surrounding noise could never distract him. Yet, despite his grand impact, he was beautifully human he found genuine happiness when people simply acknowledged and spoke of the work he did.

The Choice of the Heart Over the Corporate Ladder

I have often wondered how his leadership skills would have translated had he climbed the ranks of a major institution. How much would a corporation have benefited from his vision?

The reason he chose never to opt for promotions during his tenure at Mahindra & Mahindra was profoundly simple: moving up would have distanced him from the workers he sought to protect and serve. This was not a lack of capability far from it. His greatest satisfaction, his absolute joy, lay in witnessing the happiness of others. That pure fulfillment would have been swallowed up by a corporate leadership role. Even if he had accepted such a position, I know he would have redefined it, pioneering a deeply human way of corporate governance. While others might debate this, having witnessed his lifelong devotion to social work, I am certain of it.

He chose the shop floor over the executive suite, because to him, power was only meaningful if it was used to lift the hands of the working class.

A Beautiful Paradox: Leftist Ideology and Community Spirit

He was a staunch, lifelong believer in Leftist ideology, yet his actions often presented a beautiful, human paradox to rigid political boundaries. Of the countless initiatives he spearheaded in Kerala, two stand out as monumental: the complete revival of our village temple and his transformation of the Kerala Traders Association.

As the President of the Village Goddess Temple for over two decades, he elevated the temple’s activities and annual festivals to unprecedented heights. Similarly, he took a defunct, struggling Kerala Traders Association and transformed it into a thriving, cash-rich institution, opening up entirely new revenue streams for its members.

When he first floated the idea of building a dedicated headquarters for the association, he didn't just ask for funds he opened his own purse first. "The donations will start from my end," he declared, "Tell me how much more we need." Inspired by his transparency and generosity, others immediately followed. Today, they stand proud in their own building.

To a rigid ideologue, religion and commerce are opposing forces to Leftist thought. But my father looked past dogma. By embedding himself in the temple and the market, he ensured he stayed intimately connected with the common man. In an era where trade association heads often abuse their positions for personal profit, he had absolutely no such intentions.

His integrity extended to every corner of his life. Though he served as a Director for a Cooperative Bank and a small chit fund company, he would selflessly advise villagers to take loans from Nationalised Banks instead, ensuring they got the best financial support. In fact, the Branch Manager of the local State Bank of India branch would regularly seek my father's help to secure both deposits and loans. Even while representing local financial bodies, his only priority was that the common people received the maximum benefit.

The Chain Reaction of Kindness

In his final years, when his physical health no longer permitted him to be on the ground, he refused to stop helping. Instead, he mobilized the vast network he had built over decades of social service.

He used his phone and his connections like a lifeline. The response from his network was always a beautiful chain reaction those he called upon were the very people whose lives he had touched, guided, or saved in the past. They moved mountains for him because he had once moved mountains for them.

The Lion’s Last Battle

Even as his eyesight dimmed and his hearing faded, he kept his mind active by staying in constant touch with his network. It was the only way he knew how to live.

Then, about a week before June 13, 2026, he began to slow down. The morning walks he strictly took in our courtyard became a heavy struggle. Walking to the temple a short 500 to 600 meters from our house became impossible. Yet, being a man defined entirely by action, he pushed himself to walk the courtyard for a couple more days, deeply frustrated that he couldn't complete his usual number of steps.

On June 13, 2026, he had to be admitted to the hospital. I rushed from Mumbai, arriving at his bedside by 6:45 PM. Though he was unstable, we never imagined things would escalate so rapidly. In a matter of just three to four hours, he suddenly slipped away.

For a man who spent his youth in relentless motion, and his later years using every ounce of his remaining energy to serve others, the moment he lost the battle was the only time he ever remained silent. It is a heartbreaking irony of life: a man who saved so many could not be saved when his own time came. Death is the ultimate, inescapable truth, and we must accept it.

A Farewell Fit for a King

To do true justice to his service to society, his family, and his friends, one would have to dedicate an entire book to him. Today, I can only speak of the moments after he left us.

We brought him home past midnight, after completing the painful formalities at the hospital. A dedicated group of people who loved him stayed by his side through the entire night. Word spread in the darkness to the countless social organizations he belonged to, and to friends and relatives near and far.

From 6:30 AM on the morning of June 14, the people began to arrive. A continuous, unbroken stream of grieving souls flowed through our home, lasting until nearly 10:00 PM at night. I have only ever witnessed such scenes on television upon the passing of major political figures or celebrities.

There were wreaths from rival political parties, community leaders, and trade unions alike. Irrespective of religion, caste, or social standing, people from all walks of life walked through our doors to shed a tear for him. The next morning, the newspapers carried the heavy news of his departure.

As his son, it was the proudest, most profoundly humbling moment of my life. He was not a celebrity. He was not on social media. Yet, the sheer weight of his absence brought an entire region to a standstill because he had quietly etched his name onto the hearts of thousands.

In my childhood, when fund-collectors came knocking on our door for religious causes, I remember him countering them with a simple, powerful question: "Is there something you can do for human beings instead?" 

When someone needed help, he never saw their religion or their caste. To him, their religion was 'Human' and their caste was merely 'Male or Female'. He was secular in the truest, most visceral sense a stark contrast to the pseudo-politicians who use secularism merely as a tactic to catch votes.

A New Definition of Success

He had always told me, "I have helped everyone, and I never want to be a trouble to anyone." He stayed entirely true to his word.

Throughout his 92 years of life, he was a man of absolute action, never once bedridden. Four years ago, when he suffered a severe health setback, he fought back like a lion, adopting a disciplined lifestyle so strict that he never saw the inside of a hospital again except for routine check-ups. And this time, when he walked into the hospital, he ensured he spoke until his very last breath. He was so inherently optimistic the very trait that allowed him to achieve the impossible that he fully believed he would walk back out. Unfortunately, this was a battle he could not win.

If I have to sum up his life, he was the most successful person I have ever known. He changed countless lives, built enduring institutions to serve the community, and ensured that my mother was completely secure and protected in every possible way for the day he would no longer be here.

He never did good work to gather followers; he did it solely to see people happy. Because he shunned the spotlight, history books may not write about him. But the hundreds who came to pay their final respects did not come for the cameras they came because they loved him.

My father has given me a brand-new definition of success. Success is not merely a corporate title or a climbing career; it is measured by how many human beings you have made happy through service, while fiercely protecting and securing your loved ones.

From this moment on, Father’s Day will no longer be marked by an article. It will be marked by his enduring, beautiful memory.