N. Raghuraman's column: If money cannot reduce someone's pain, then it has no meaning

I was new to Pune. Till 2008, I was just a visitor here. While working on a project that year, I arrived at a meeting of a well-known celebrity in Pune with one of my reporters. He was about to make a public announcement. The person addressing the meeting was sitting on the stairs, which was his style. While all the reporters were standing around him. This is because he had booked the cheapest place to meet the journalists. It was not even possible for a late arr like me to see them. I stood quietly at the back of the crowd, as I could hear their voice clearly. His unique, charming and extremely authoritative tone not only kept the crowd quiet, but also kept everyone attentive, including me. Suddenly my phone rang and I immediately silenced it. But the caller tune that rang for a few seconds was enough to catch the attention of the person with an authoritative tone. Slightly deviating from the current topic, he ordered, 'Raghu, come forward and sit next to me.' Perhaps he was M.S. Subbulakshmi recognized me by my caller tune of 'Bhagwan Venkateswara Suprabhatam' – he had a keen eye for the minutest of things. What I liked about him was his extraordinarily simple and grounded way of living life even in the smallest of things. Once, in 2003, he came to the office of this newspaper in Indore and said, 'I need your car and driver for a day, because I am going to Mhow for rifle shooting practice.' He never said, 'Can you give it?' He just ordered. I said hesitantly, 'Dada, I only have a Maruti Zen, not a big car for your height.' He smiled and said, 'That's why I am asking you.' I just nodded and took him to the car. The office driver was overjoyed because he was going to take none other than Bollywood and Marathi theatre actor Nana Patekar, who passed away in Goa on Thursday morning. Due to his core principles and deep empathy for the common man, he had turned down a life of luxury. Whenever we met, he would talk about how lucky he was to start his journey as a painter making face of stars on the walls of the streets and finally see his face on the same billboards. Many people may not know that he had trained as a sketch artist and calligrapher from the prestigious JJ School of Arts in Mumbai. Later in his career, despite earning well, he preferred to live in the same 750-square-foot house — with plain-white walls and plain wooden furniture — because he refused to adopt the luxurious celebrity lifestyle. He loved to read and write and preferred the quiet life of the village. Troubled by the plight of farmers and devoting a large part of his income to their welfare, this man once told me, 'I do acting because it pays my bills. When I run out of money, I call a producer and ask for a role. Otherwise, I have hundreds of friends like you, who will feed me at least one day's food and your next turn will come after a year. He always wanted to connect with millions of people, especially the farming community. Because he felt that this would 'lead to many people to shoulder him in his final journey. The trick is that the real wealth of life is not what money can buy for you, but how it can help ease the pain of someone else. Earning can pay your bills, but sharing what you have can lighten someone else's burden.