In my last post, I wrote about “Achachan,” my father. Today, I write about another father in my life—though, in truth, he was a father to many whose paths were blessed to cross his. With tears in my eyes and a twinge of guilt in my heart, I write about Rev Fr. Abraham Pallivathukal SJ—our beloved “Palli Achan”—who passed away earlier this morning. His earthly journey has ended, but his love, wisdom, and quiet influence live on in the countless lives he touched.

I first saw Achan on stage in 1988, at what was probably one of the earliest Jesus Youth campus gatherings I attended. As he walked onto the stage, the music team struck up, “Father Abraham had many sons, many sons had Father Abraham…” I remember being amused by the playful wordplay and by the warm smile with which he received it.

Little did I know then that my life was about to take a dramatic turn. In the months that followed, I attended a retreat and experienced God’s healing in my life. Before long, I had become part of the Jesus Youth movement and had the privilege of getting to know Palli Achan more closely.

He always greeted me with such warmth and affection that, in those moments, I felt as though I was the only person in the room receiving his attention. Over time, I came to realize that this simple, humble man had that effect on everyone. Even while juggling a hundred responsibilities, he would somehow find a moment to make each person feel wanted, loved, and deeply special.

There are memories in abundance and stories without end, but I want to dwell on three moments that are especially dear to me—three simple incidents that reveal the fatherly love with which Palli Achan touched and shaped my life.

The first one was at a Jesus Youth conference in Ernakulam in 1989, which had been inaugurated by a bishop, Palli Achan was seated with him on the dais while I was serving with the music team. Soon after the inaugural ceremony, someone came looking for me and said, “Fr. Abraham wants to see you urgently.” Puzzled, I went in search of him and found him in a parlour, having just seen off the bishop.

He smiled and motioned for me to follow him to his room. There, with the delight of a father sharing a treasure with his son, he placed in my hand a cashew nut—the largest one I have ever seen to this day—and said simply, “Son, I wanted you to have this.”

He had quietly saved it from the snacks that had been served to His Lordship, sent word for me, and waited until I came so that he could personally give it to me. I still remember eating it while he watched over me with that gentle, fatherly gaze that made you feel cherished. It was such a small gesture, almost insignificant to anyone else, but it revealed the extraordinary love hidden in the heart of a man who never missed an opportunity to make another person feel special.

The second memory takes me back to 1994. I was going through a season of uncertainty, anxious about the future, searching for a job, and wondering how I would find even a measure of financial security. Humanly speaking, the prospects seemed bleak.

One day, someone came to my parents’ home with a small envelope addressed to me. Curious, I opened it and found a handwritten note in Palli Achan’s unmistakable hand:

“My son, how are you? This is a small gift from me to you. God bless you.”

Inside were five crisp five-hundred-rupee notes—a total of ₹2,500. To many, it may have seemed a modest sum, but to me, at that moment, it was nothing less than the loving providence of Abba Father made tangible through Fr. Abraham. I could do nothing but weep in gratitude.Years later, I reminded Palli Achan of that act of kindness. He had no recollection of it. There was no trace of pride, no expectation of being remembered or thanked. All he said, with characteristic simplicity, was, “Now you help others.”Such was the man—he gave, forgot, and moved on, leaving behind hearts that would never forget.

I close with the 3rd one only because this post has already become a tad lengthy.

The third memory is from 2007, if I remember correctly. Our younger son, Deepak, was still a newborn when Palli Achan came to visit us in Chennai. Outwardly, life seemed normal, but inwardly I was in a dark place spiritually. Hurt and angry over an issue, I had drifted away from the Church and, in many ways, from the sacraments as well.

My mother happened to be visiting us at the time, and out of a mother’s concern, she mentioned this to Achan. I still remember the warmth and tenderness with which he approached me. He spoke to me privately, one father to a son—without a trace of judgment, without a sermon, only with words that brought healing. There was such paternal love and affection in his voice, coupled with just the right amount of firmness.Through that encounter, and especially during the Mass that Palli Achan celebrated in our home, I found my way back. It was a moment of reconciliation and grace that remains deeply significant to me.

It was especially meaningful for our family because Gayathri, my wife, was also able to receive the Holy Eucharist after quite some time. Caring for newborn Deepak had largely confined her to home, and the circumstances demanded special attention and sacrifice. In God’s providence, Palli Achan’s visit brought not only comfort to our home, but also healing and renewal to our faith.

Looking back, I realize that Palli Achan did not win hearts through eloquence or authority. He won them through love. He had the rare gift of making people feel seen, understood, and gently led back to the embrace of the Father.

Rest in peace in the arms of Jesus dearest Palli Acha ♥️