A Tribute to Naik Kaka – My Invisible Anchor

Last week, I lost one of the most admired personalities in my life — and I must say, there are very few I place on that pedestal. He wasn’t someone I met every day or worked with closely. We didn’t speak often, nor did we have long conversations over the years. But sometimes, influence isn’t about frequency. It’s about depth. And the influence Naik Kaka had on me — as a human being of some value — was profound.
Born on 26th April 1929, he was a living chronicle of India’s modern history — from witnessing the Second World War, India’s struggle and eventual Independence, to recent events like the recent small war with Pakistan (lying from his hospital bed, he genuinely wanted India to teach a good lesson to the enemy). Through it all, he lived a life of dignity, strength, and unwavering principles. And on 14th May 2025, at the ripe age of 96, he left peacefully for his heavenly abode — leaving behind a legacy that will forever stay etched in our hearts.
I first met Naik Kaka in the early 1980s in Guwahati. My parents introduced me to him when he was posted there from Mumbai. I was a child, unaware that this meeting would become the beginning of a lifelong connection. It was during my Hotel Management days in Bhubaneswar in 1985 that I grew closer to the Naik family. They became my local guardians during those crucial formative years — and what started as a convenience soon turned into a lifetime bond.
Though my visits to the Naik household were infrequent, there was always an invisible thread tying us together. His presence, even in silence, gave me a deep sense of assurance — that someone was watching over me from afar. I was like a son to Kaku, a brother to Meghna and Mohana, and to Kaka… I was someone special.
There were small but deeply meaningful gestures that defined our relationship. Without fail, Kaka would send a New Year and Diwali greeting card to all his friends and loved ones — I was privileged to be on that list. Even more touching, he never missed a call on my birthday. Every year, on the 24th of July, my phone would ring — and it would be Kaka on the line. As Kaku and the girls often told me, he would start reminding everyone in early July: “Atul’s birthday is coming — don’t let me forget!”
Somewhere along the way, I became family. I can’t even say when it happened — it just did. Perhaps that’s the beauty of genuine relationships — they don’t need defining moments. They simply grow, take root, and become part of your emotional landscape.
Yesterday, I visited the Naik family to offer my condolences. What I thought would be a sombre visit turned into a gentle walk down memory lane. Surrounded by my dear sisters, Kaku, and now even my wife Kalyani, who has become part of this journey, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude — for the enduring love, for the memories, and most of all, for the values Kaka lived by.
Upright, principled, yet gentle and deeply affectionate — Kaka was a towering figure in character and conduct. His life reminds me of the quiet strength that shapes people like me from the shadows — not through loud declarations but through consistent actions and unwavering values.
As the family and I bid our final goodbye to him, I feel both a deep sadness and a deeper sense of pride. Kaka will always be with me — as my inner compass, as my anchor, and as the man who, without knowing it, helped me hold on to the better parts of myself.
Goodbye, Kaka. Keep guiding me from up there. Your legacy lives on — not just in memory, but in the values you passed on, quietly and powerfully.

Atul