My dear Bhau,
I have paid my silent tributes to your memory the day you got salvation from this world.
There not being any communication of any sort I've no way of knowing your mind about our not undistant relationship between two close brothers
I indeed have a great respect for your capability as family man, social person and as a person with great talent in drama,music,socialising and being an ICON in every field that you ventured.
In your professional field as well, you have been a shining star, being the youngest Manager of a fledgling Bank outlet in commercially powerful Market Place such as Karol bagh
You have exerted extensively during your mature years in totally unfamiliar world of drilling rigs moving here and there and everywhere
It is a pity that you did not have respite of taking it easy in your city of youth, home to drama and KARMABHOOMI of college days
It is great that I could express my bottled thoughts thro' this medium after almost a couple of years
I am sure you must be exerting with all your strength in your fond activities wherever you are
I wish and hope YOU ARE AT PEACE YOURSELF
Vasudeo
Monday, April 07, 2008
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Written by Shubhada Sakurikar (Moved from comment)
Dear Bhau,
I am sure you would be also celebrating the 100th birth anniversary of Appa today.
I tried it my way little by saying it poetically.
Want you to read it,posting it here for you.
Inspiration
Eyes once again imagine the familiar silhouette of a tall man
Adorned in cotton white, with a cane, walking briskly.
Sea-blue eyes closed to clatter, deep in thoughts, rather meditating,
Strongly determined, walking the miles imperviously, step by step.
Leaving behind shadows of arduous childhood, full of sweat and toil
Fatherless at early age, brought up by winds of time, in adversity.
Youthful years full of hope and desire to excel in life.
And the will to succeed in spite of all odds, a true symbol of edification.
For warmth and happiness treading the path, tirelessly, with conviction.
Sorrow insurmountable after losing partner, but happy to have a fruit.
Knotted again to spend life’s beautiful moments, sharing and caring.
Existence full of ups and down, every mile crossed in faith, together, made for each other.
A persona of high intellect, discretion and passion hand in hand
Voracious reader, wit and wisdom oozing out of millions of cells.
Confidence almost intimidating all other lesser mortals on earth
Values and belief in oneself, of the highest order, unshakable, by the tides of time.
My grandfather taught me to think, act and perform on the canvas of life.
Let there be any season, fill your colors around make life worthwhile, living.
And do not worry about anything; the Supreme Intelligence will look after you.
Speak fearlessly, hold head high, seek perfection, be un-compromising towards mediocrity.
I saw him down only once during illness, on death bed, for a while, unanticipated.
Faint whispers, nonchalant even then, everyone around seeking his attention.
He, passing into the oblivion, seeking the eternal truth, veins frozen.
I look up to him for strength, for living in paucity, with pride and hope,
And to fulfill life’s mission, explicit, without burning out.
The candle of light continues the journey, forward…....
Shubhada Sakurikar
April 3, 2008
Hope you will like it. Tell me your feed back in the dreams.
Shubhada
Dear Bhau,
I am sure you would be also celebrating the 100th birth anniversary of Appa today.
I tried it my way little by saying it poetically.
Want you to read it,posting it here for you.
Inspiration
Eyes once again imagine the familiar silhouette of a tall man
Adorned in cotton white, with a cane, walking briskly.
Sea-blue eyes closed to clatter, deep in thoughts, rather meditating,
Strongly determined, walking the miles imperviously, step by step.
Leaving behind shadows of arduous childhood, full of sweat and toil
Fatherless at early age, brought up by winds of time, in adversity.
Youthful years full of hope and desire to excel in life.
And the will to succeed in spite of all odds, a true symbol of edification.
For warmth and happiness treading the path, tirelessly, with conviction.
Sorrow insurmountable after losing partner, but happy to have a fruit.
Knotted again to spend life’s beautiful moments, sharing and caring.
Existence full of ups and down, every mile crossed in faith, together, made for each other.
A persona of high intellect, discretion and passion hand in hand
Voracious reader, wit and wisdom oozing out of millions of cells.
Confidence almost intimidating all other lesser mortals on earth
Values and belief in oneself, of the highest order, unshakable, by the tides of time.
My grandfather taught me to think, act and perform on the canvas of life.
Let there be any season, fill your colors around make life worthwhile, living.
And do not worry about anything; the Supreme Intelligence will look after you.
Speak fearlessly, hold head high, seek perfection, be un-compromising towards mediocrity.
I saw him down only once during illness, on death bed, for a while, unanticipated.
Faint whispers, nonchalant even then, everyone around seeking his attention.
He, passing into the oblivion, seeking the eternal truth, veins frozen.
I look up to him for strength, for living in paucity, with pride and hope,
And to fulfill life’s mission, explicit, without burning out.
The candle of light continues the journey, forward…....
Shubhada Sakurikar
April 3, 2008
Hope you will like it. Tell me your feed back in the dreams.
Shubhada
Written by Shruti Panandiker (Moved from comment)
Dear Bhau,
It’s 6th of August 2007. Time has just gone by - days into months and months into a year since your demise.
But it just seems like yesterday that we all were together. Everything keeps coming back and the memories are so fresh, so new that it’s hard to imagine that they will not be relived.
Yesterday I made your favorite Sabudana Khichadi and was reminded of how much you had relished the ‘Sweet Home’ khichadi at Pune. Today I made your favorite ‘phodni chi poli’ and was again remembering how you and I would try and take a bigger share. Whenever I play Kumar Gandharva’s ‘Uthi uthi Gopala’, I go back to the LP record days and to the times when you would play that early in the morning during Diwali.
I remember the Rangayan days and the days when you used to make my plats and ajji used to feed me scrambled eggs before going to school. I remember our days at Belgaum and the fun we had at the house on pillars. I remember our South India trip and the cake aai had carried from Delhi for me and I had cut it early in the morning before our visit to Tirupati.
Dear Bhau we have all the memories to keep us going but please watch over all of us. Just the thought that you are still somewhere close by, watching over all of us gives us a lot of strength!
Love
Shruti
Dear Bhau,
It’s 6th of August 2007. Time has just gone by - days into months and months into a year since your demise.
But it just seems like yesterday that we all were together. Everything keeps coming back and the memories are so fresh, so new that it’s hard to imagine that they will not be relived.
Yesterday I made your favorite Sabudana Khichadi and was reminded of how much you had relished the ‘Sweet Home’ khichadi at Pune. Today I made your favorite ‘phodni chi poli’ and was again remembering how you and I would try and take a bigger share. Whenever I play Kumar Gandharva’s ‘Uthi uthi Gopala’, I go back to the LP record days and to the times when you would play that early in the morning during Diwali.
I remember the Rangayan days and the days when you used to make my plats and ajji used to feed me scrambled eggs before going to school. I remember our days at Belgaum and the fun we had at the house on pillars. I remember our South India trip and the cake aai had carried from Delhi for me and I had cut it early in the morning before our visit to Tirupati.
Dear Bhau we have all the memories to keep us going but please watch over all of us. Just the thought that you are still somewhere close by, watching over all of us gives us a lot of strength!
Love
Shruti
Written by Shruti Panandiker (Moved from comment)
Dear Bhau,
It’s been four months since your demise and I just realized how soon the days are turning into months. I haven’t been writing on the blog because probably I have been constantly talking to you. You have been watching, guiding, smiling, frowning and I have seen those expressions reflected on your photograph hanging on my wall.
It’s almost as if you are in India with aai and we will soon see you again. Then when I recollect how the Pune home will be without your presence, or when I’ll see aai without you beside her, it brings tears to the eyes.
I think it’s good to cry every once in a while to face the reality of your loss rather than to pretend that you are in India and we will see you soon.
But then I also feel good that you are watching over me and guiding me.
I still remember the story you had shared with me from Saint Ramdas’s life history. The story was that as a young boy Saint Ramdas had set off from his home, in search of god. He walked along the banks of river Godavari as his mother had told him he would find god at the mouth of the river. He walked on for days and yet couldn’t find the mouth of the river Godavari. One day he met an old hermit living in a hut besides river Godavari. He rested at the hut for some time and then asked the hermit if he had seen the God at the mouth of the river.
Hermit told him that he too had set off in search of god and had spent days looking for him. He could get only this far and now he was too old and frail to walk any further. But he could guide Ramdas and show him the path to reach to the mouth of river Godavari. And so he did.
We too need a hermit in our lives to show the sign ‘this way please’ and I am glad you guided me like the hermit. I too have set off on a trail where I know I have a long way to go. I also realize that I can take a few people along with me. So my music classes have become my goal and I am enjoying them thoroughly. I also realize that sharing my knowledge with others increases it ten folds and there is immense satisfaction in that too.
I just wish that I could have spent more time during childhood and in growing up years learning from ajji . I remember her frequently and all the old songs, which she had taught, are coming back. It’s amazing how the childhood memories are imprinted in our minds, all we need is some stimulation to activate the defunct memory. I also wish that I could have spent more time with you as you had a lot of knowledge on varied topics and it was there to seek but we never had the time to do so.
Anyways what is past cannot be amended but the future can learn from the past. So I hope I continue to learn and learn and keep my heart and mind open to learning. Every experience in life has a learning and I hope I make the most of it. And I know I will have your and aai’s blessings with me forever.
Love
Shruti
Dear Bhau,
It’s been four months since your demise and I just realized how soon the days are turning into months. I haven’t been writing on the blog because probably I have been constantly talking to you. You have been watching, guiding, smiling, frowning and I have seen those expressions reflected on your photograph hanging on my wall.
It’s almost as if you are in India with aai and we will soon see you again. Then when I recollect how the Pune home will be without your presence, or when I’ll see aai without you beside her, it brings tears to the eyes.
I think it’s good to cry every once in a while to face the reality of your loss rather than to pretend that you are in India and we will see you soon.
But then I also feel good that you are watching over me and guiding me.
I still remember the story you had shared with me from Saint Ramdas’s life history. The story was that as a young boy Saint Ramdas had set off from his home, in search of god. He walked along the banks of river Godavari as his mother had told him he would find god at the mouth of the river. He walked on for days and yet couldn’t find the mouth of the river Godavari. One day he met an old hermit living in a hut besides river Godavari. He rested at the hut for some time and then asked the hermit if he had seen the God at the mouth of the river.
Hermit told him that he too had set off in search of god and had spent days looking for him. He could get only this far and now he was too old and frail to walk any further. But he could guide Ramdas and show him the path to reach to the mouth of river Godavari. And so he did.
We too need a hermit in our lives to show the sign ‘this way please’ and I am glad you guided me like the hermit. I too have set off on a trail where I know I have a long way to go. I also realize that I can take a few people along with me. So my music classes have become my goal and I am enjoying them thoroughly. I also realize that sharing my knowledge with others increases it ten folds and there is immense satisfaction in that too.
I just wish that I could have spent more time during childhood and in growing up years learning from ajji . I remember her frequently and all the old songs, which she had taught, are coming back. It’s amazing how the childhood memories are imprinted in our minds, all we need is some stimulation to activate the defunct memory. I also wish that I could have spent more time with you as you had a lot of knowledge on varied topics and it was there to seek but we never had the time to do so.
Anyways what is past cannot be amended but the future can learn from the past. So I hope I continue to learn and learn and keep my heart and mind open to learning. Every experience in life has a learning and I hope I make the most of it. And I know I will have your and aai’s blessings with me forever.
Love
Shruti
Written by P W Kale Kaka (Moved from comment)
Remembering Shriram Kanitkar,as I knew him !!!!
One day in Pune in Oct’2004,Meena my wife,called me on my mobile to say that she met Mrs. Kanitkar( Saroj) and Shririam in Bal Gandharav Pune and she was bringing them home. Kanitkars were in our house and we renewed our ‘guppa’ all over after several years.The time seemed have not elapsed and we related to each other instantly.
Kanitkar’s were again Punekar’s after almost 40 years after their courtship years in Ferguson college.Roots, after all, take you to their origin.
I first met Shririam in 1971 in Mumbai where Bank Officer’s association was holding elections.Shriram got elected unopposed on the managing committee to represent Delhi & North.My first impression of him was suve,handsome,very well dressed in a light brown suit and a matching tie.It was December & he flew from Delhi all the way.When we met,he instantly related to his Pune days and wanted to know how’s theatre activity in Pune going on. ‘Ghashiram Kotwal’ was a rage at that time.His turnout and command over spoken Marathi,Hindi and English impressed everyone.We became friends from that day. A real Chitpavan in his looks,light mischievous eyes and pink brown complexion.An appearance & intelligence inherited from his parent whom I had the pleasure to meet subsequently.I believe his value system came from his father and culture,and music,theatre from mother an excellent combination indeed.
Yes,Shriram was an active, knowledgeable, theatre personality.
The organisation where we were working had made plans to grow.The expansion was being implemented & I was assigned to go to Delhi in Jan’75 by the then Charman Mr. V.M.Bhide.On our debriefing session Mr. Bhide asked me’Do you know Mr. Kanitkar from Delhi ? I said ‘yes I do.Mr. Bhide said ‘then 50 % of your problems of settling in Delhi are solved’.He knew Shriram and his abilities well. Unfortunetly subsequent gentlemen heading the Bank affairs did NOT have close rapport with executives in Delhi.
Me, a pucca Punekar(then),landed in Delhi in a wintery February ‘75 evening by Forntier mail. My Puneri estmate of Delhi( hya,thandi,thandi mhanje kiti ?) winter was shattered with same intnsity of my shiver down the spine.Next day I called on Shriram in his office in Karol Bagh.He was Manager of Karol Bag office. He was very firm & effective in his mannerisam. What impressed me most was his command over Punjabi language.I made a mental note that if I have to take roots in Delhi spken Punjabi is mandatory.
Over about next week or so Shririam helped me to settle down.Took me home and went out of the way to ensure that I was at ease in a new city.This was a cultural shock to me coming from a city which suspected anybody trying to help.’What is his motive’ they would have asked ?
By Pune standards Delhi was ‘Khoop Laamb’.I was so moved by his help that I carried the tradition of helping to anyone one coming to Delhi from other states for the first time.
P.W.Kale
Remembering Shriram Kanitkar,as I knew him !!!!
One day in Pune in Oct’2004,Meena my wife,called me on my mobile to say that she met Mrs. Kanitkar( Saroj) and Shririam in Bal Gandharav Pune and she was bringing them home. Kanitkars were in our house and we renewed our ‘guppa’ all over after several years.The time seemed have not elapsed and we related to each other instantly.
Kanitkar’s were again Punekar’s after almost 40 years after their courtship years in Ferguson college.Roots, after all, take you to their origin.
I first met Shririam in 1971 in Mumbai where Bank Officer’s association was holding elections.Shriram got elected unopposed on the managing committee to represent Delhi & North.My first impression of him was suve,handsome,very well dressed in a light brown suit and a matching tie.It was December & he flew from Delhi all the way.When we met,he instantly related to his Pune days and wanted to know how’s theatre activity in Pune going on. ‘Ghashiram Kotwal’ was a rage at that time.His turnout and command over spoken Marathi,Hindi and English impressed everyone.We became friends from that day. A real Chitpavan in his looks,light mischievous eyes and pink brown complexion.An appearance & intelligence inherited from his parent whom I had the pleasure to meet subsequently.I believe his value system came from his father and culture,and music,theatre from mother an excellent combination indeed.
Yes,Shriram was an active, knowledgeable, theatre personality.
The organisation where we were working had made plans to grow.The expansion was being implemented & I was assigned to go to Delhi in Jan’75 by the then Charman Mr. V.M.Bhide.On our debriefing session Mr. Bhide asked me’Do you know Mr. Kanitkar from Delhi ? I said ‘yes I do.Mr. Bhide said ‘then 50 % of your problems of settling in Delhi are solved’.He knew Shriram and his abilities well. Unfortunetly subsequent gentlemen heading the Bank affairs did NOT have close rapport with executives in Delhi.
Me, a pucca Punekar(then),landed in Delhi in a wintery February ‘75 evening by Forntier mail. My Puneri estmate of Delhi( hya,thandi,thandi mhanje kiti ?) winter was shattered with same intnsity of my shiver down the spine.Next day I called on Shriram in his office in Karol Bagh.He was Manager of Karol Bag office. He was very firm & effective in his mannerisam. What impressed me most was his command over Punjabi language.I made a mental note that if I have to take roots in Delhi spken Punjabi is mandatory.
Over about next week or so Shririam helped me to settle down.Took me home and went out of the way to ensure that I was at ease in a new city.This was a cultural shock to me coming from a city which suspected anybody trying to help.’What is his motive’ they would have asked ?
By Pune standards Delhi was ‘Khoop Laamb’.I was so moved by his help that I carried the tradition of helping to anyone one coming to Delhi from other states for the first time.
P.W.Kale
Your's Truly Said ... Written By Amruta and Apurva (moved from comments)
Hello! Amruta and Apurva Nargundkar here. (Sharwari's and Satyajit's nieces)
To us Bhau Kanitkar was always Bhau azoba, just as his grandsons Rutwik and Rohit called him. We didn't know him very well, but whenever we met him he was always smiling, telling witty jokes and being a friend to all the kids around him.
Rutwik and Rohit adored him very much, and through them we too grew to respect and be very fond of Nani ajji and Bhau azoba.
Whenever we met him, he was the grandfather we missed having, filling the void of a loving azoba in our lives.
We remember admiring him a lot, whether it was his habit of keeping physically fit even in his sixties, or all the general knowledge that he had and imparted to the kids, the memories our mami shared with us about Bhau azoba playing guitar and singing all the classic songs, or his great sense of humour.
When we heard that azoba had passed away, both our parents and we were shocked, but as we said to mami, his beloved family was there with him when he died, and he must have known how much everyone loved him and taken that love of his wife and children and grandchildren with him.
Over the years we've met all his grandchildren, Rutwik, Rohit, Prajakta, Sannidhi, Siddhart, Nandini and Parikshit; everyone of them must have felt the loss of their much loved grandpa greatly. But his teachings will always be with them and we're sure that they'll cherish in life all the qualities that he passed on to them.
Nani ajji is a very brave woman, and this quality of hers is in all her daughters too. Sharwari mami and Sharmilee mavshi who I know very well have carried on with their daily lives never letting the smiles on their faces show their sorrow. And this blog in honour of Bhau azoba is a very fine tribute to him, since it remembers him with creativity and love, in the form of poems written by his near and dear ones, and we're sure he would have been wanted to be remembered exactly like this, inspiring creativity rather than sadness.
We hope more great memories of Bhau azoba will be posted on this blog in the future.
Best of luck to everybody.
Amruta and Apurva.
Hello! Amruta and Apurva Nargundkar here. (Sharwari's and Satyajit's nieces)
To us Bhau Kanitkar was always Bhau azoba, just as his grandsons Rutwik and Rohit called him. We didn't know him very well, but whenever we met him he was always smiling, telling witty jokes and being a friend to all the kids around him.
Rutwik and Rohit adored him very much, and through them we too grew to respect and be very fond of Nani ajji and Bhau azoba.
Whenever we met him, he was the grandfather we missed having, filling the void of a loving azoba in our lives.
We remember admiring him a lot, whether it was his habit of keeping physically fit even in his sixties, or all the general knowledge that he had and imparted to the kids, the memories our mami shared with us about Bhau azoba playing guitar and singing all the classic songs, or his great sense of humour.
When we heard that azoba had passed away, both our parents and we were shocked, but as we said to mami, his beloved family was there with him when he died, and he must have known how much everyone loved him and taken that love of his wife and children and grandchildren with him.
Over the years we've met all his grandchildren, Rutwik, Rohit, Prajakta, Sannidhi, Siddhart, Nandini and Parikshit; everyone of them must have felt the loss of their much loved grandpa greatly. But his teachings will always be with them and we're sure that they'll cherish in life all the qualities that he passed on to them.
Nani ajji is a very brave woman, and this quality of hers is in all her daughters too. Sharwari mami and Sharmilee mavshi who I know very well have carried on with their daily lives never letting the smiles on their faces show their sorrow. And this blog in honour of Bhau azoba is a very fine tribute to him, since it remembers him with creativity and love, in the form of poems written by his near and dear ones, and we're sure he would have been wanted to be remembered exactly like this, inspiring creativity rather than sadness.
We hope more great memories of Bhau azoba will be posted on this blog in the future.
Best of luck to everybody.
Amruta and Apurva.
Written by Arun K Tiwari (moved from comment)
I measure every grief I meet
with reasoned gaze;
I wonder if I grieve you,
loosing father feels so old an ache.
I wonder if it hurts to live,
and if we all have to try,
and whether, could we choose between,
we would not rather die.
I wonder if when years have piled--
decades after decades--on the mind,
Of hurt, of crave, of pain, of loss
could life give it any pause?
We go on aching still and more
through the years ahead,
Enlightened to a larger pain
longing for the elusive gain?
The grieved are many, I can see that;
the reason but deeper lies,
Death is but one and comes but once
and only nails the eyes.
There's grief of want, and grief of losing hold,
a sort we call despair,
there’s banishment from native eyes,
in sight of local air.
And though I may not guess the kind
correctly yet to me
a piercing comfort my memory affords
of the moments I spent with you.
I experience your departure
and watch standing alone
still fascinated to presume
that you were like my own.
___________
Arun K Tiwari
I measure every grief I meet
with reasoned gaze;
I wonder if I grieve you,
loosing father feels so old an ache.
I wonder if it hurts to live,
and if we all have to try,
and whether, could we choose between,
we would not rather die.
I wonder if when years have piled--
decades after decades--on the mind,
Of hurt, of crave, of pain, of loss
could life give it any pause?
We go on aching still and more
through the years ahead,
Enlightened to a larger pain
longing for the elusive gain?
The grieved are many, I can see that;
the reason but deeper lies,
Death is but one and comes but once
and only nails the eyes.
There's grief of want, and grief of losing hold,
a sort we call despair,
there’s banishment from native eyes,
in sight of local air.
And though I may not guess the kind
correctly yet to me
a piercing comfort my memory affords
of the moments I spent with you.
I experience your departure
and watch standing alone
still fascinated to presume
that you were like my own.
___________
Arun K Tiwari
Written by Sharwari Rajurkar (Moved from comment)
Every moment that I spent with you my dad has left an imprint on my mind
childhood,adolescent,teenage,youth,womanhood,
motherhood all in its own kind,
But never knew that your unending surprises would leave no place to unwind.....
You taught me to love the world with a throbbing heart full of passion and laughter
which elated me to a high pedestal leaving behind the sorrows of life.....
You were always a pillar of strength to lean-on in all my tough times,
though the frightful call told me you were in pain my eyes searched the
reassuring smile saying everthing was just fine.....
The sky was pouring through my eyes not knowing the floods of sorrow rise
all along till I saw you my heart was pleading for your life to the God in the blue skies.....
Then I saw the reflection of serenity beaming on your face
and that moment told me you had made up your mind for a graceful escape.....
I shook your heart,touched your forehead and reached to your soul
to let you know that its my turn this time at your bedside with a heart to console.....
We your daughters and your wife surrounded you with our boundless ties
and then we saw you fading away with tears in our eyes and a solemn prayer.....
You had waited for this Moment to give us a spark of your golden heart
Oh! my dad your final surprise gave us courage to let you depart!
Written By Shubhada Sakurikar (Moved from comment)
BhauThe world says you are dead--
not seeing, not seen;
not hearing, not heard;
Not asking, not responding;
Not taking, not giving.
But I can see your light
Showing me the path.
I can hear your voice
Inspiring and reprimanding.
I can feel your asking for a righteous conduct
I can feel your assurances when I am grieved.
You are receiving my prayers
and giving your blessings.
How can you be dead Bhau
When you are alive in my trillions of cells
Each of 23 chromosomes you gave me
Perpetuate a bloodline that was pious
And carry forward a tradition to which
You are a glorious link.
Bhau you live in me
Bhau you live in my children
O World, never say Bhau is dead.
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