
K.R. Pechimuthu with his self-published Thirukkural booklets. Photo: M. Srinath
From blood donation to tree-planting, vermicompost and Thirukkural dissemination, retiree K. R. Pechimuthu has espoused each cause with gusto
K.R. Pechimuthu has clearly never thought of retirement as an end. What else would push him (literally) to cycle from his home in Kumaresapuram, on the outskirts of Tiruchi, distributing free booklets of the Thirukkural to primary-level school students?
“Instead of expecting the Government to come and bail us out each time, why cannot we do something ourselves?” he replies with a question.
And so, motivated by the idea of inculcating good values in youngsters, Mr. Pechimuthu and a helper hop on to their bicycles, packed with at least four 25-kilo bundles of booklets at 7 a.m., and visit the schools. Mr. Pechimuthu holds a value-orientation class using the Tamil literary classic as a foundation, for an hour, and encourages children to learn how to recite the poetic lines precisely. To keep them engaged, he offers a prize of Rs. 10 per correct recitation.
“We used to have moral science in our education system earlier, now it’s gone,” says Mr. Pechimuthu. “I use the Thirukkural to unite young children in learning how to venerate their parents and teachers, who are our founts of knowledge.”
It is 17 years since Mr. Pechimuthu stopped working as a mechanical engineer in BHEL, Kailasapuram, and 15 years since he started the Thirukkural project through his Akarur Educational Trust.
Mr. Pechimuthu reckons that at least 10,000 copies are given away every one or two months. He has cycled up to Manachanallur, 15 km from Tiruchi, on this unique mission, eager to use his retirement benefits to fund his dreams.
Father’s lessons
And there has been no dearth in the dreams department either. “People often wonder why I do all this,” he says. “When you grow older, shouldn’t you be getting more careful about your money? But then, no matter how much you earn in this lifetime, are you going to take it all with you when you die? So I thought, ‘let me look for people who need help.’”
Mr. Pechimuthu, born in Mayiladuthurai, and brought up in Devakottai, names his father A. Karupaiyya, a farmer, who worked briefly in Burma before setting up a timber depot in Devakottai, as his chief source of inspiration. “My father was a spiritually-inclined person, and used to recite theThevaram Thiruvasagam (sacred poems written by Saivite saints known as Nayanmars). “I used to be entranced by the recitation, though I couldn’t really understand their full meaning until I was much older,” recalls Mr. Pechimuthu.
“In his advanced years, my father handed over his timber depot to Periyasami, a worker who had joined us at the age of 10, as a symbol of gratitude for his long years of service,” he says. “Besides, as both my brother and I had moved on in our education and career and my sisters had settled into married life, he felt it was the best thing to do. My father’s selfless gesture convinced me to become more socially conscious.”
Social concerns
Mr. Pechimuthu’s social work started with blood donation in 1966, when he was a foreman in BHEL’s design engineering department. He donated blood around 75-80 times until he was 58 years old. He then shifted his attention to raising awareness about eye donation. In the mid-1980s, he got interested in organic farming and vermicompost, and got guidance in the subject from Chennai-based soil biologist Dr. Sultan Ahmed Ismail and Dr. Kalai of Bangalore University.
Popularising the concept through All India Radio broadcasts and workshops for Tamil Nadu Women in Agriculture, Mr. Pechimuthu mastered vermicomposting enough to develop his own study material that was used in many institutions.
Approaching retirement, he decided to set up an industrial training unit for rural youth in Vaiyyampatti block. Its students were also roped into the voluntary tree-planting drive overseen by Mr. Pechimuthu. Some 10,000 neem and laurel saplings (given free by the Agriculture Department), had been planted throughout the block by 1996, with Mr. Pechimuthu paying Rs. 10 per month out of his own funds for the maintenance of each tree planted in a public place. Unable to sustain the institute due to land problems, Mr. Pechimuthu shifted to Kumaresapuram, still keen to be of some use to the youth of the area.
And a new cause soon suggested itself to him. Approached by a tearful mother for aid to pay her child’s school fees, Mr. Pechimuthu wondered why the poor couldn’t have an affordable savings programme that would help them to educate their children.
He decided to act on the advice of his insurance agent friend, and offered to enrol the mother in an endowment assurance scheme where a Rs. 300 premium would ensure a substantial payout at maturity. “I asked her to give half the premium, and I offered to pay the other half,” he says. “By the grace of God, some 568 children have been able to pay their school fees through this policy.” It was while interacting with the students that he realised the need to teach them good manners and ethical awareness through the Thirukkural.
The man who gets up at 4 a.m. to sweep the street outside his home and clean out the open ditches, then accompany his wife on their daily stroll through the neighbourhood and finally gets ready for his school visits, is an inspiring figure. He doesn’t accept (or expect) any kind of financial or ideological sponsorship for his work.
“I don’t want people to praise me, just to absorb the ideals and values I’m putting across,” he concludes.
Mr. K. R. Pechimuthu may be contacted on 9715426463.
Source….Nahla Nainar …www.the hindu.com
Natarajan