Goodbye Uncle Marcel (1938 - 2019)

Uncle Marcel was five years older than my father. He was the second eldest brother in a family of 10 children. It’s not every day I write about every deceased relative, but uncle Marcel was very different. Marcel was 81 when he passed away this Sunday, the 1st of September 2019. He went for his daily walk on Saturday with the dog. A fever rose that evening and he had to be admitted. He suffered a cardiac arrest late on Sunday.

I rarely got an occasion to meet uncle Marcel, till I was well past my teenage years. Growing up, the extended family would descend into my paternal grandfather’s home, a village placed in the hilly region, an hour’s drive from the city of Mangalore. Uncle Marcel rarely made it for these.

He lived in Bangalore. He and his wife had a daughter, but they were rarely present for family get-togethers. He moved to Bangalore ages ago, after completing his studies. I’ve only heard tales of Marcel uncle as a youngster. He was always modest, but dynamic, and well-read. To me, Marcel uncle was the cool uncle. He was the tallest, towering 6 feet, maybe a bit more. He was fit, with a squared, flat face, soft-spoken always mildly smile. He had the build of a fit athlete, a wrestler but a character that was humble except when faced with nonsense.

Uncle Marcel was a vocal atheist, a non-believer, a true rationalist and practical. Oddly enough, he took a liking to Jiddu Krishnamurti a guru-like figure who preached selflessness and anti-theism. I do not subscribe to any guru but I guess he is one of the lesser evils you could follow. Uncle had no ego, he was selfless and that should explain why he didn’t inherit anything when his father passed away. He didn’t fight or whine about it. He would make it to every funeral, rarely to weddings. He would come, mix with the family, having a drink or two, eat what was served and sleep on the floor, or in the veranda without a complaint.

Marcel uncle would spend most of his adult life selling text books and other novels to schools in and around Karnataka. I think of that profession as noble. It wasn’t his plan, but things turned out that way. My grandfather’s brother was instrumental in teaching Marcel the art of writing books, printing, distribution and selling. Uncle Marcel was perpetually curious and willing, as was my grand-uncle in guiding him. He spent most of his time reading, and of late he was glued to the laptop and the web. I’m glad he appreciated technology, something most people only use for mundane entertainment.

Uncle Marcel enjoyed playing football, and he would spend late evenings at Azad Maidan in Bombay back in the day. I’m told he once chased a BEST bus back, all the way back home. One other popular event was him playing late through the evening. Exhausted, he decided to nap only to wake up the following morning. If you ever cracked a joke or made fun of him, he’d just shy and look away or loosen his jaw, trying to avoid laughing along. Back when one of my older cousins was 8 or 10 years old, uncle Marcel came visiting and apparently, she’d heard things at home or on TV. She saw him and screamed, calling him a bloody, filthy bastard. Uncle Marcel only smiled. Typical!

Uncle dismissed all kinds of superstition and he did it boldly, fearing no judgment. He’d be rolling in his grave if he knew his family was bidding him farewell in a church, then a cemetery. When our extended family met him on his 80th birthday, he had his couple of beers. He would’ve preferred vodka or rum, but I guess his doctors strictly advised against it. He stood up on his birthday celebration, spoke about how stupid people were, to believe in faith and religion. It was all a scam, it was rubbish, we aren’t going to heaven and that priests were only fooling the masses with their rubbish. Everyone was trying to be polite on his special day, they were dumbfounded and probably thought he was drunk. He was talking sense as he always did, speaking more sense than most people do when they are sober. I was busy laughing my ass off during his speech.

Marcel uncle was quite liberal. He allowed his only daughter to marry a Hindu from up north. I’m glad she did well in her career, made him proud. She did her best to make things very comfortable through the years of cancer my uncle went through. He had an instance of lymphoma several years ago, then stomach cancer which later metastasized to the brain. Uncle took things as they came, never blaming bad luck.

When I met him last year after his brain surgery, he looked frail but alert. He still went on his walks, taking the dog along, but only with a helper around in case of any emergencies. He told me his family was tensed about that surgery. He was calm, he said the doctors had to do what they had to do. There’s no hesitating and having second thoughts. If things go through, I live and if they don’t, I die.