Tête-à-tête: Do What You Love, Love What You Do

I held out a coffee tumbler that I had bought a few weeks ago, after I decided to quit drinking coffee. My grandfather took it from my hand, read the text on it – Do what you love, love what you do. ‘This is what I used to tell my students. I didn’t use these exact words.’ I turned my head towards him, ‘This is what I often tell my friends and juniors too!’ He continued, ‘Accounts is a subject that I love. I used to tell my students that to understand the subject, to do well, they have to love it.’ I was excited. ‘I say the same for English!’ There were a few other people in the dining room then. Different conversations were taking place at once. No one was paying particular attention towards us. I had been making a presentation of coffee mugs and the equipment that I used to brew filter coffee. My voice itself is a people repellent. I talk so much for so long that people lose interest. They are also aware that I won’t stop until I am done showing everything in my agenda, so they respond with a nod every now and then.

It was amidst the altercation about the loudness of my voice initiated by my brother that my grandfather bent towards me. He lowered the pitch of his voice. ‘I used to tell my students that in order to do well in Accounts they have to love the subject as a boy loves a girl. A boy dedicates himself and makes every effort to be with the girl he loves. That’s the kind of love they have to have for the subject in order to do well.’ I would be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised by this confession. It seemed like a confession, a private detail from his life that wasn’t meant for others in the room. Given the childhood I have had, I had never imagined even a vague mention of romance coming up in any kind of conversation with my grandfather. 

I knew that no one in the family knew what I was told. As the momentary surprise sunk in, I replied, ‘That’s what I tell my juniors, not in those words but I express a similar sentiment.’ My mind was trying to problematise the words that he had used. I wanted to say that a girl loves in a similar fashion too. I knew that it wasn’t merely about genders, it was about the romance and commitment. I wanted to tell him, I am afraid I might not love anyone as much as I love analysing a text and more than that, writing. I was still a bit stupefied when he said, ‘I have loved Accounts so much. When there was a problem that I couldn’t solve, I used to go to sleep with it in my mind, I’d dream about it and when I used to wake up, I could solve it.’ This surprised me further. I couldn’t help but shout, ‘That’s the case with me too!’ His face was lit. Even after two decades of his retirement, I knew he truly enjoyed teaching Accounts and continued to love it.

A day before this conversation I was explaining my father how questions keep me awake, even when I am asleep. Many a times I dream about them. By the time I wake up, I have the answers to my questions. I no longer forget the 2am ideas; they stay in my mind till I find an appropriate use for them. When I understand the problems that pop up in my head, be it about books or writers, I feel a kind of high that I have never felt before. It keeps growing. It’s like opening new doors, exploring a new world. My father had said, ‘And that’s precisely why you’re always confused. You can’t focus.’ I knew that the well meant response was a result of listening to me talking about being passionate about literature over and over again while failing at seeing a material output for all the fire and love I have within me for the subject. However, in that moment I had wished to have someone to talk to who’d get the thrill that I was talking about, who perhaps loves something with such dedication that there’s probably no life without it.

When I saw my grandfather express his love for Accounts, I knew he felt what I did. I had always known that he had been a professor. I had never bothered to ask him anything about his career. What could I ask about commerce? Now, I asked him, ‘You retired as a professor, right? That’s the highest position, no?’ He chuckled. ‘I went beyond that in administration.’ Seeing my clueless face he said, ‘I retired as the Director of Higher Education of Odisha on 30^th April 1999 at the age of fifty eight. It’s the highest position, only one for the entire state. I had the privilege to be in that position for a while.’

The humility in his voice further enhanced my newfound admiration for him. I have a tendency to affirm a relationship based on a similar set of beliefs. In the end I told him, ‘You seem like my grandfather!’ At this everyone in the room laughed. I knew that he had become more than the person I had called Aja all my life. He was no longer just my mother’s father. He wasn’t just the person I used to play cards and monopoly with in the afternoon after returning from school. He was more than that. He had become someone who knew what it was to be in love with something that isn’t easily associated with emotions.