Ramu Kaka's legacy is formidable for my generation. Known for his honesty, hard work and wisdom, Ramu Kaka was the right hand of the malkin (the lady of the house) and the man Friday of the maalik (the master of the house). Dressed inevitably in a grey/beige kurta with a red gamcha around his neck, with white pajamas, Kaka remained loyal to a particular family for generations, serving the father, the son and then the grandson, until he grew impossibly old, wearing black-rimmed spectacles. Kaka was finally pensioned off to the village he came from, and his son and grandson took his place in the household. Wiping a lone tear when the spoilt son insulted Ramu Kaka and called him by name (instead of "Kaka"), our Kaka was quick to forgive "Dipu Baba" or "Chotey Sahib". He cooked, cleaned and sometimes helped the master take important decisions by giving insightful suggestions. Ramu Kaka's unwavering loyalty and dedication made him an important part of the household, and without whom the family would have run like a vehicle with punctured tyres.
It's not that our dear Kaka just toiled in the household. He was a person with inherent responsibilities. Ramu Kaka trained the new brides, who married the Saheb or Chota Saheb - be it cooking, learning the rules of the house or knowing the likes and dislikes of the husband, Ramu Kaka's presence was of utmost importance. He also tended to the impressive garden which had a variety of flowers. Ramu Kaka bossed over the other servants in the house and also had a say in selecting the subordinate servants. Most importantly, despite being a part of almost everything that mattered in the household, Ramu Kaka never rose to prominence and remained blended in the background.
While innumerable actors have portrayed Ramu Kaka on the silver screen, two names stand out, Satyen Kappu and A.K. Hangal. These two artists immortalized Kaka in the archives of the Hindi film industry.
So how did Ramu Kaka die? Let me explain. Joint families disappeared and the communal existence of yesteryear transformed into isolated existence of nuclear families. In addition, the need for space and privacy, which were unheard of in large joint households, was not conducive with the constant nagging presence of Ramu Kaka who lived, ate, worked and slept in the house. The screen now lights up with the efficient Kanta Bai, who works part-time, and in multiple households. And thus, Ramu Kaka died a dignified, but definite, death. The sturdy decency associated with household helps disappeared with the demise of Ramu Kaka from Hindi films.
The medical profession is associated with trust, hope and confidence. Yet, decades back when we were kids, the character of "doctor" implied melancholy and fatality in Hindi movies. Usually played by an unsmiling male actor ( the only exception being the obstetrician, who was always a middle aged lady doctor in crisp cotton saree and oversized spectacles), the doctor carried a brown leather briefcase or bag, and he never smiled. His clinical acumen was sharp because he was trained to diagnose everything from "mamooli bukhar" to "brain tumour" by just checking the pulse for ten seconds. His medicine was invariably a white tablet (ek goli subah, ek shaam ko). But most commonly, he told the attendants to seek divine intervention (aapke mariz ko dawa ki nahi duwa ki zaroorat hain) rather than soliciting a second opinion.
The Doctor Sahib in movies made unpaid home visits and refused financial remuneration even when offered by the patient's relatives. The doctor of yesteryears performed complicated surgeries in his regular dress, with just a green gown thrown carelessly over his formal dress , and carried out "antigravity blood transfusions" (blood rose up a plastic tube from the donor to a bottle, and went via another tube to the patient). On some rare occasions, he glanced at x-ray films and arrived at a rare diagnosis. He minced no words in informing the patient about his/her imminent death, and could accurately tell the number of days for which the patient will remain alive.
It was a brutal yet final end to our no-nonsense doctor - the place is now taken over by the smart, soft-spoken and smiling doctor who devotes a respectable amount of time in explaining and counseling.
But even now, a pair of rheumy eyes with black-rimmed spectacles and a red gamcha around the neck reminds me of Ramu Kaka's presence. And a brown leather briefcase resonates with the advice to seek divine intervention rather than relying on medication to expect improvement in the patient 's condition!
