<p>I had been invited by the Director, All India Radio, Mysuru to take part in their special programme on 'daughters of famous fathers.' I was to speak about my father, the late Professor N A Nikam, the former V-C of Mysore University. After having surveyed the panorama of life, I'd shared with my father, I realised I was duty-bound to participate in the programme.</p>.<p> I had joined the CMC Hospital in Vellore after completing my studies in the US in a field which was in its nascent stages, a step taken against my father’s wishes. After my short stint at the CMC, my father came over to take me to Mysuru. Besides, he felt being among his friends in the city, my well-being was guaranteed!</p>.<p>In my new location, noticing my solitary occupancy, my father observed, "Such solitude! So conducive to creative work! What have you written?” I had no answer. He himself made good use of the solitude to work on his book "Some Concepts of Indian Culture". He ensured my speedy departure to office every day. “Don’t bother about lunch. I can make my own as I did in Cambridge. Just leave some tomatoes, eggs and a cucumber.” Another day he insisted I leave for work notwithstanding my being indisposed. “Don’t waste your leave” was the justification although we both knew he merely wanted to be left alone to pursue his creativity.</p>.<p>My father also visited me sometimes in my office. He came over at 4pm one day and said, “Come on let’s go home. I want my tea.” I told him there was still an hour to go before I could leave. He said, ”You know, you don’t have to work all the time. Be a delinquent now and then.”</p>.<p>Visiting me in Mysuru also gave him an opportunity to be on the Manasa Gangotri campus which he was instrumental in developing. The new post-graduate campus gave Mysore University its first post-graduate departments in Science. During his visits he would meet the faculty in the various departments and share coffee with hostel inmates in the dining hall. During his morning stroll, he would be invited in by my neighbours. “Shailaja’s father is here. Bring him coffee” the host would call out. </p>.<p>My father’s wit was an effective weapon in overcoming opposition. Out shopping in Kashmir, he had selected a saree for my mother, a choice his daughters disapproved of. Hurt, he told the shopkeeper, "See, I don’t even have the freedom to choose a saree for my wife." The shopkeeper quietly packed the chosen saree and handed it over.</p>
<p>I had been invited by the Director, All India Radio, Mysuru to take part in their special programme on 'daughters of famous fathers.' I was to speak about my father, the late Professor N A Nikam, the former V-C of Mysore University. After having surveyed the panorama of life, I'd shared with my father, I realised I was duty-bound to participate in the programme.</p>.<p> I had joined the CMC Hospital in Vellore after completing my studies in the US in a field which was in its nascent stages, a step taken against my father’s wishes. After my short stint at the CMC, my father came over to take me to Mysuru. Besides, he felt being among his friends in the city, my well-being was guaranteed!</p>.<p>In my new location, noticing my solitary occupancy, my father observed, "Such solitude! So conducive to creative work! What have you written?” I had no answer. He himself made good use of the solitude to work on his book "Some Concepts of Indian Culture". He ensured my speedy departure to office every day. “Don’t bother about lunch. I can make my own as I did in Cambridge. Just leave some tomatoes, eggs and a cucumber.” Another day he insisted I leave for work notwithstanding my being indisposed. “Don’t waste your leave” was the justification although we both knew he merely wanted to be left alone to pursue his creativity.</p>.<p>My father also visited me sometimes in my office. He came over at 4pm one day and said, “Come on let’s go home. I want my tea.” I told him there was still an hour to go before I could leave. He said, ”You know, you don’t have to work all the time. Be a delinquent now and then.”</p>.<p>Visiting me in Mysuru also gave him an opportunity to be on the Manasa Gangotri campus which he was instrumental in developing. The new post-graduate campus gave Mysore University its first post-graduate departments in Science. During his visits he would meet the faculty in the various departments and share coffee with hostel inmates in the dining hall. During his morning stroll, he would be invited in by my neighbours. “Shailaja’s father is here. Bring him coffee” the host would call out. </p>.<p>My father’s wit was an effective weapon in overcoming opposition. Out shopping in Kashmir, he had selected a saree for my mother, a choice his daughters disapproved of. Hurt, he told the shopkeeper, "See, I don’t even have the freedom to choose a saree for my wife." The shopkeeper quietly packed the chosen saree and handed it over.</p>