Profiling Papa

See him dart across the backyard, chasing his three-year-old grandson. Noshir Padamjee Kapadia’s childlike laughter, enthusiasm and zest for life belies his 69 years yet leaves me with no surprise; it is something I, his daughter, have grown up with.

Technology, tools, machines. Cold, impersonal words to many. But to dad, friends, companions and the everlasting loves of his life. In 1953, having topped his batch at the Victoria Jubilee Technical Institute — Bombay, dad entered the world of professional engineers. A couple of years later he joined Larsen and Toubro (L&T) which steadily grew as a technological giant with multinational presence and became a formidable force to reckon with. For the next 30 years it was his second home. He was all of 23 when he was handpicked to spend a year in Denmark, learning the finer nuances of switchgear technology and tool engineering. On his return, he played a pivotal role pioneering L&T’s switchgear manufacturing division, soon to become the company’s goldmine.

Intolerance of mediocrity and refusal to allow the minutest compromise on quality lent him professional perfection and won him the admiration of many. The brilliant brain and power of creative visualization was something he had been blessed with. Combine with it the confidence to challenge paradigms, courage to risk the untread, enormous hard work and exacting self discipline. The tools division that he led soon earned the enviable reputation of being among the finest in the country and in Asia.

But professional superiority was only part of what made my ‘little’ 5’3” and 43 kg dad a giant of a man: His readiness to extend a helping hand, silently without ado. His integrity and the ability to unflinchingly say no when his conscience did not permit otherwise. His conviction that what is right must never bow before a show of might.

Kapadia: "a giant of a man”

Dinnertime through our growing years overflowed with stories... tales of accomplishment, of challenges sought, obstacles overcome, perfection personified. "Dad’s bag of tales,” we’d rag him.

Take for instance the Rajasthan project. Years ago, when work commenced on the Rajasthan Atomic Power Plant, the first in the country, dad — a young man then — had the privilege of being nominated on the core team. The project required machinery then not available in India. For all practical purposes, it would have had to be imported, an expensive proposition. Dad insisted it could be indigenously produced. Despite strong reservation from relatively senior quarters, he persisted. And succeeded.

Or for instance, the time when a brand new, imported (at a hefty price) electric crematorium refused to work as required. No one including the manufacturer could find a solution. At least not a cost effective one. Until dad, having barely started his career in the organization then, took one look at it and soon set it right. Not content with having done so, he took it upon himself to prevent similar mishaps from recurring. He wrote to the manufacturing company, pointing out in painstaking detail the fundamental error in design and measures for eliminating it in future. And so he continued through his working years, creating, solving, accomplishing.

Indigenizing was a pet passion. With scores of import substitution measures to his credit, his contribution toward conserving the nation’s foreign exchange is monumental. To make India as self-reliant as she could be, always remained his driving dream. I can recall several instances over the years when offers came his way from other lands, other employers. Tempting and lucrative enough to entice the average professional. But not dad. He remained loyal, for his motivations were far above the lure of money or material luxury.

Recognition by the country came his way in 1978 when he received the National Invention Award for creating a sophisticated tool that completely converted an imported ‘Callahan’ Press; meant for one product, it was adapted for another. In addition to considerable saving of foreign exchange, the process did wonders for the machine’s productivity. And then as the years passed the true mettle of the man emerged. Integrity and idealism had to cross swords with pettiness and politics. Tough times those were, when it seemed like his beliefs, ideals and his life’s work were being overpowered by the pettiness of others.

Battered and bruised, but not beaten, dad continued untiringly in his efforts. Distressed but never defeated, when one door closed, he sought another, a valiant warrior battling the odds. And then even as material wealth dwindled, new riches revealed themselves. Spiritual treasures. Strengthening of spirit, fortification of character, reinforcement of ideals. And thus we managed to navigate those choppy waters, never forgetting that what is right must never ever bow down to a show of mere might.

Organizational politics seems to have become so much a part of our life today, that we seem to have accepted it as a ‘constant’ of organizational reality, something we cannot and need not change. We stay insensitive to the victim’s anguish. So numb have we become to the denigration of values in hallowed corporate corridors, that we think nothing of belittling courage shown by the odd individual who chooses to be true to himself. ‘Maverick’ we call him. That a collective conscience can be so lacking in guts is a pity, a crying shame.

Noshir and Mehru with grandson

Even in the midst of turmoil and hardship, dad’s passion to create and contribute continued to burn. Noteworthy among his technological achievements of these latter years are breakthrough innovations in the field of flameproof switchgear technology.

A piece on dad would be unforgivably incomplete without a mention of his beloved wife, Mehru. Mom’s walked with him every step. His best friend, worst critic, loyal companion. She stood by him steadfastly and devotedly, keeping up the faith, soothing away disappointment, sharing the pain, helping him up when he stumbled, reminding him of the dawn that lay in wait beyond the dark. By his own admission, she is his anchor and inspiration.

In even the few months he spent visiting his son in Canada, his innovative ideas were published by American Machinist, a leading North American technological journal. Imagine the family’s joy and pride when dad’s contribution was judged by readers of the publication as the most valuable, a cut above those contributed by younger engineers with more contemporary knowledge.

Learning, he says, is something that will not stop until his last breath. Now his days in Canada are spent poring over technological literature at what has become his second home, the Concordia University library. Back home, the British Council library is a decent substitute and a favorite haunt.

In a world which is increasingly lamenting about losing control over its fate, I have learnt from Dad and Mom some invaluable lessons: That true freedom is not what the world permits us but what we grant ourselves. That nothing is worth selling one’s soul for. That heaven is not something to reach out for but to turn in towards.

When I look around and see his contemporaries lead a laid back, retired life, I urge him to take it easy. "Bah,” he dismisses, without a thought. No retired life for this full-of-beans gentleman, 69 years young. "I’m not old,” he insists.