Goodbye Aai…

Six years ago I lost a soul-mate – my brother, gone too soon, leaving my heart forever fractured.  And yet here I am again, the fracture now deepened into a canyon of grief…the only relief coming from the river of memories flowing within.

I lost my Granny two weeks ago. My Mom lost her mother and the world lost a beautiful, courageous, gifted soul. She had been ill – she struggled with health issues all her life really but these last 2 years were particularly hard, fate particularly cruel. You would never have known though…she smiled through every hardship!

I was with her when it happened…holding her hand, watching her ragged breathing stop, one hand on her faint pulse until that too faded away. It was surreal. She was gone and I remember walking out of the room to tell Mom…calmly, matter-of-factly even, that she had passed. We had been preparing ourselves you see, as well as the living can prepare for impeding death. Even wishing for it, for her, because we couldn’t bear to watch her suffer and because the woman we knew and loved so very dearly had left much earlier, leaving only a hollow, fragile shell. Well, that’s what I tell myself anyway.

I feel like I haven’t yet begun to grieve. It’s feels weird. I keep waiting for the acute searing pangs of pain that assaulted me when my brother passed but they don’t come. Instead there’s a continuous, dull, aching pain that weighs me down, a persistent malaise that heightens the all-pervading, ever present emptiness. She’s gone and once again the World still turns. Diminished. Weird. Expected. Understood. I cried me a river six years ago but now my eyes are dry…but sadder. I wonder whether that’s what happens over time as we lose the people we love – they settle in the amplified sadness of our eyes.

She raised me. I was her first grandchild, her only granddaughter and the apple of her eye. I like to think so anyway. If I had to describe her in a word it would be ‘Amazon’. She was a warrior for as long as I can remember, even until the end. When she was young, circumstances necessitated a fighting spirit and I like to think that having found the warrior within, she embraced her wholeheartedly. She was like that Aai – All or Nothing. And for all the challenges she faced I never once heard her express disappointment or regret. She just faced every trial with an inherent grace and dignity that left us all in awe.

I wish I had her strength. I wish I were half as brave as she was. I wish I could tell her one more time how much she means to me, how lucky I am to have been loved by her, how deeply I love her and how profoundly I miss her. I wish she were still here – unbroken, whole, wise. I wish, I wish, I wish…but mostly I wish her Happy wherever she is – and I strongly suspect that she’s with my brother and her siblings having a rocking party somewhere, enjoying herself while looking down on us in benevolence!

Another Angel in my Sky!

I Love You Aai ❤

Always & Forever…

To the boy who lives…

My favorite picture of the two of us – taken the day before my wedding.

The night you were born was unremarkable – a night like any other I suppose inasmuch as two nights are alike. I was asleep at Ghatkopar and although your arrival was eagerly awaited I had only a vague notion of ‘when’. I was only 12 after all and such things as babies belonged in another universe.

I remember Tai waking me up to tell me I had a sibling as clearly as if it were yesterday. She said I had a sister and in the dark I couldn’t see her twinkling eyes and her soft smile. She knew I had my heart set on a brother and nothing else would do! I remember rubbing sleepy eyes and saying that was impossible! It must be a brother, she must be mistaken! I remember her gentle laughter as she agreed, saying yes indeed she must be in the face of such confidence, and it was! It was you – come to turn my life upside down and my heart inside out with your own unique brand of love, friendship and compassion.

In those early years, at times I loved you so intensely it hurt and at others I was indifferent to your very existence, too wrapped up in my own adolescence, stormy as it was! But you know that already – you were there after all and bore the brunt of my temper often enough. I could apologise I suppose but there wouldn’t be much point now would there and besides, you know how much I hate saying Sorry 😉

And so the years passed and with them came the trials and triumphs unique to every life’s rhythm. We persevered and overcame while drawing heavily on your seemingly limitless stores of courage and patience in the face of Herculean odds. How did you do it? It was a mystery to me then and remains one today. Your gentle heroism is what I hold within my soul. It is what allows me to breathe on days when all I want is to curl up and die. It is what keeps me smiling while my heart breaks. It is what renews faith and brings me hope when all seems lost. You are the Light at the end of my tunnel. Always were. Always will be.

Another night 4 years ago. Another phone call. And again Life turned upside down, heart turned inside out. Gut-wrenching grief and a paralysing helplessness. An unwillingness to live and laugh in a world that no longer had you in it. And You – as always, my beacon. Willing me to breathe, to persevere, to live. Sending me a little boy to bring me back to the land of the living. A beautiful piece of you that clutched my finger and my heart with that same ferocious devotion that once was uniquely ours. My very own miracle. How did you do it? A beautiful mystery 🙂

And so I smile and open my heart again to the vagaries of unconditional love. I try hard to be more like you were – gentle, compassionate, patient. More often than not I fall flat on my face, but at least now, I stand up and try again. You gave me that along with everything else. I read these words and truth be told – there are no words to say what you are to me, how much I miss you and how much I love you. No words. But that’s alright, coz I know and you know. And that is all that matters.

33 years to the day – and nothing’s changed. It’s still you – holding my heart in yours, killing me softly with your song. Always is. Always will be.

I ❤ You, B.

Happy Birthday!

A Whole New World

A Letter to my Son…

My Darling C,

You’re 5 today! A mini-milestone on this happy journey of Life. Five is a good age – for you and for me 😉 you’re old enough to take those first wobbly steps towards independence and young enough to still let me hold your hand! And how I adore that walking hand-in-hand! It makes me feel loved and useful and special in a way nothing else can! And we are name-buddies too! We are both named for Happiness and to me that’s the most miraculous thing – a sign that ‘this was meant to be!’ 🙂 I’ll tell you more about why someday.

You’re not going to understand most of this letter until much later, when you’re older and hopefully wiser, but I’m really writing it now, for me. I won’t fill it with any advice other than to say, “Play hard, Laugh often and Mind your manners!” If you can do that now, you’ll have an easier time of it when you’re older and the going gets tough, as it inevitably will. Laughter will always help even if you’re just pretending! It’s a cleanser and healer and often you’ll feel better even when you don’t want to 😛 Besides we have a tradition of laughter in our family…our guffaws are legendary!! Don’t let me down now 😉

So often during these 5 years, I’ve wanted to time-freeze you! Keep you from growing up and cling tenaciously to your innocence for a while longer. Oh! I know, it’s a fool’s dream…but tell that to my Mommy heart 😉 I remember wanting to stay the ‘same’ myself too! I didn’t want to turn into a mother who cannot see, think or live beyond her children. It may work for some, but not for me. I was so afraid of losing my ‘self’ that I was blinded to the possibility that you would just ‘enhance’ that ‘self’ – give it layers and depth and meaning without disturbing its core essence. And for that I thank you and bow to the wisdom of this ancient Universe that has made it so 🙂 Yes! you’ve altered my life irrevocably but I’m still ‘me’ – just a better version 😉 Oh I know you’re going to think I’m a loon speaking gibberish and you’re right but someday you will understand – both the gibberish and the immense importance of indulging your loony side 😉

Raising you has been a life-altering experience! After B, you’re the only one in this whole entire universe who holds the key to my heart. I wish you could have known him…the two of you would have been inseparable, although I think you already are! Ever so often i see him shining through your eyes and i know then i am doubly blessed to have loved you both! You make me laugh and cry and tear my hair out in frustration 😉 You brought the joy of play back into my life at the bleakest of times and I’ve never looked back since. Your smile is more effective than any nuclear missile – use it wisely 😉 As for your tantrums – well since you’ve learnt them from me, how can I possibly complain? 😛

I’m so very proud of you and of the fact that I am your Mom. I’m enjoying every moment of our journey together and I can only hope you are too! You are many things to me my darling – my joy, my hope, my love, my faith, my gratitude, my teacher, but most of all you are my blessing from the Universe and I want you to know that I love you with all my heart – always and forever.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DARLING & GOD BLESS!!

❤❤❤❤❤ Love forever after, Mamma.❤❤❤❤❤ 

Back to School!

I cannot believe this is my 3rd post of the Day!! It’s a MIRACLE!!

I’ve just got back from spending the afternoon with my son’s Kindergarten class! Today was his first day in Senior KG and I’m happy to report that both of us had a blast 😀 This despite the fact that my derriere is aching from sitting hunched in tiny rigid made-for-4-yr-old-butt chairs 😉 and notwithstanding the general brouhaha that occurs in a room full of 15  hyperactive, enthusiastic 5-yr-olds!!

I continue to be impressed with the teachers in the Podar Jumbo Kids Plus IB section. There are three teachers to attend to 15 children – a main teacher and two assistants, without whom I cannot imagine how they would manage to keep order 😛 These children are a handful – curious, impatient, fidgety and unique –  each in their own way. Getting them to concentrate on a single activity for 5 minutes at a time is in my opinion worthy of a Nobel prize 😉 The teachers at Podar do so with aplomb and have my utmost respect! Take a Bow Ladies 🙂

It was fascinating to see how far the education system has come since way back when I was a kindergartner myself! The children played, sang songs, modeled clay and watched stories all in the space of 4 hours, during which they also wrote their names on the board, drew objects that started with the first letter of each of their names and counted numbers! The learning is skillfully woven into fun activities so that the children scarcely regard it as a serious study process. Instead they imbibe knowledge true to the little sponges they are, by instinct and osmosis. I was pretty impressed with all the kids and happy to see that my boy – shy as he is in public, can hold his own in the classroom 🙂 It was an eye-opener and a wonderful experience and we Moms would be very happy to do it again some time 😛

I’m looking forward to another rewarding school year 🙂

Women: Burden or Backbone – A Personal Reflection

This is my entry for The Indusladies 4th Annual International Women’s Day Blog Contest.

History is abundant in strong women role models. Women have pioneered & served in every walk of life and excelled in them – Government, Literature, Entrepreneurship, Education, and many others. Close to home, we have Mother Teresa, Indira Gandhi, Kiran Bedi, and youth icons like Saina Nehwal and Sania Mirza; all trailblazers in their chosen paths! And while I salute these women and their contributions, my own role models are closer to home and no less revolutionary! They are my intimate soul mates – women who have known and influenced me since birth – My Mom, My Aunt but most importantly my Grandmother, my ‘Nani’, whom I call ‘Aai’ – quintessential ‘Mother’, proud matriarch – her delicate femininity camouflaging her steely resolve.

She’s a consummate survivor. At 86 – she’s survived an abusive marriage, raised two strong & independent daughters, battled a host of health problems, and coped with several tragedies including the  loss of a beloved grandson. Through it all she has been a rock of support for my Mom, who is fighting her own battles – the loss of a child and a husband cruelly afflicted by Parkinson’s disease. Their stories and suffering are not perhaps unique, indeed India has millions of women who have been abused and discarded by society and who continue to suffer, but for me – they are special because they are also my life stories. My Granny ended her bad marriage and moved back to Bombay, with two little girls, her self-respect, a backbone of steel and little else. With her family’s support, she survived and more importantly beat the odds triumphantly! She was a seamstress extraordinaire and saved money by tailoring clothes for the children under her care. She didn’t have a paying job but she was certainly no burden on her family.

Women like Aai are the foundations on which our societies are built and nurtured. Their love and sacrifice form the backbone on which we lesser mortals build our utopias. They nurture and educate, in an attempt to better a World that often treats them unjustly, judges them harshly and diminishes their self-worth. How easily we dismiss their contributions! How casually we sweep away their pain! The world would be a much better place if women were celebrated everyday as they deserve to be – not with grand gestures but with quiet sincerity and consistent regard.

I dedicate this poem to my Granny, who is my backbone and when required – I am hers!

 LIFESTORY

 Today, I met a woman,

Her head was bowed in grace,

Quiet eyes and gentle sighs,

Solitude lined her face.

❤ 

I watched her faith move mountains,

Her back straight and proud,

Her long and restless fingers,

Often caressed my brow.

❤ 

Marriages and children,

Family and friends,

Shadows on her gentle face,

Alone in the end.

❤ 

Years of wisdom wrapped in love,

Journeying the seas,

Courage on the wings of doves,

Her spirit forever free.

– Harsha

A Letter to Mom & Dad…

Dearest Mom & Dad,

Today, you complete 46 years of marriage 🙂 To me, that’s as close to eternity as I’m likely to get! 46 years of living and loving, of compromise and sacrifice, of joy and tragedy, of holding on and letting go…there’s not much you haven’t weathered and I’ve watched you for 44 of those…observing and trying to learn. It’s been a privilege, although some times…torture! Well, it’s like that sometimes between parents and children isn’t it? It certainly is with me.

My First Birthday – 1969!

You are phenomenal people, in the way parents are to their children – mysterious, confounding, inspirational, loving… confounding – did I mention that?! There are times when I find your logic elusive or infantile, when I find your reluctance to ask for and accept help frustrating, when I wish I could shake you physically into being more engaged with Life…but none of that changes the simple fact that I love you both to pieces and would do anything…but anything for you. I know I get overbearing and crazy at times, and haven’t always been an easy daughter, but it stems from love and the need to make Life easier for you. It’s hard for me to watch you struggle when I feel there’s an easier alternative. I guess I just have to try harder to respect your independence & your decisions even though they may not make sense to me at the time. After all, you have lived longer and have more experience than I have! I promise to try harder to understand you and not step on your toes so often! I hope you’ll do the same 😉

Somewhere in me, lives the desire, to be compassionate & forgiving like you, Mom and wise & generous like you, Dad, and I constantly feel the need to do you proud through my words and actions. You’ve set the bar high and I wonder whether I’ll ever measure up. Oh I know you love me regardless, I know! Still, if I can live up to your impeccable standards, and be half as good a parent to Ishaan as you are to me, I would consider myself blessed and worthy of being your daughter. And today, of all days, I want to Thank you for being the BEST parents for me, coz without you…I wouldn’t even be here!

So here’s to you both…May Life always Keep you together – Safe, Strong & Happy 🙂

Love always, P.

Bombay, Bypasses and Burning Questions

This last week has been spent in a tizzy. I left for Bombay last Tuesday to be by aunt’s side, while my uncle went through a quadruple bypass surgery. Even as I type out the reality, it feels dreamlike. Perhaps it’s my consciousness trying to soften the harshness and the suddenness of events.

My uncle, being  a long-standing diabetic and a recent sufferer of Parkinson’s, has always been particular about his health and my aunt’s one-point program has always been to look after him to the best of her abilities. She’s been devoted in that aspect and together they’ve managed to stave off major complications. Perhaps that’s why we were all so shocked when she called us late morning on the 5^th of Jan to tell us, they had taken him to hospital with breathlessness. I remember the moment with that peculiar clarity that seems to accompany such moments. Moments when you know that Life as you knew it is about to change and nothing is ever going to be quite the same again. Moments, that cause you to hold your breath and shut your eyes. Moments in which you find yourself praying (if you’re a believer and sometimes even if you’re not), and hoping that what you’re going to hear is not bad news, while your sixth sense is telling you that it is. The proverbial ‘sweaty palm moment’ before you decide on ‘Fight or Flight’. I’ve had my fair share of these and perhaps that’s why I recognized this one instantly and knew what I had to do.

I’m thankful that once I knew what I had to do, circumstances conspired so that I could indeed do it, not always a possibility. I’m referring to Ishaan of course and the fact that I would have to leave him with my Mom and Pushpa, while I travelled to my aunt’s side. My boy is a gem though and he sailed through with flying colors, barely missing me if my Mom is to be believed, and certainly not missing me nearly as much as I missed him! He made up for it though with much hugging and kissing and smiling on my return 🙂 Good boy! But I digress.

The operation lasted approximately four hours, and I am happy to report that they were four relatively tension-free hours because we had such great company. This is when family needs to rise to the occasion and I’m glad & grateful to those that did, couldn’t have done it without them. I can now happily report that the operation was successful and that my uncle’s recovery has been without major hiccups. We’ve been lucky so far and all I wish for now is that our luck should hold and his recovery be completed without further complications. Minor hiccups are unavoidable though…aren’t they always? He’s been a little disoriented and drowsy because of low sodium levels, just like my Dad was after his hip surgery. It’s a very common post-operative imbalance in the elderly and one that you need to watch out for and keep in mind if you have older relatives. But the hospital has provided excellent care (unlike my Dad’s time) and things are getting better.

I spent most of days just being there for my aunt. We got to spend time together especially for the first two days when my uncle was in Intensive Care where no visits are allowed. We spoke like we always do about everything and nothing! And happily we found that we could still laugh together J I was even able to read two books. The Squire, His Knight and His Lady by Gerald Morris and The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein, both easy, enjoyable reads. I’ve had a lot of time to think too, while sitting around and waiting. So much of time spent in hospitals is about waiting. Waiting for doctors to arrive, for nurses to leave, for tubes to come out, for reports to come in, for tests and results, for evidence of recovery and signs of deterioration, waiting and watching and staying alert to every nuance, every change, imagined and unimagined in the patient’s condition.

I’ve been wondering about several things this past week. How are senior citizens in India expected to manage without any help or support in a medical emergency? It’s not like the Government has any infrastructure in place that will help, nor do I see such a service developing in the near future. India has so many burning issues right now, that the care and need of its older citizens, is hardly a priority. Sadly, I’m talking about this myself only because I am now surrounded by several aging family members, many of whom cannot expect help from family, whether by choice or through misfortune. I do hope though that someone, somewhere, who can do something, will take notice. I would love to be able to help somehow.

The visit also served as a prelude of our move to Bombay this summer, and it’s not a pretty picture. I didn’t expect it to be, but I am saddened by the speed with and the extent to which Bombay had deteriorated since we were last here seven years ago. The city is bursting at its seams and no one seems to care, not the people and certainly not the Government. Traffic is horrendous, hygiene non-existent and corruption rampant. These aren’t new problems, just old ones that seem to have strengthened their strangle-hold on this seamy Metropolis. It makes me sad, as I see Bombay being buried under her own debris. The spirit that all Mumbaikars are so proud of, apparently only surfaces in times of crises, and although I’m thankful for that, I wish it weren’t so.

Which brings me to another burning question…how do I adjust to living in a tiny two-bedroom apartment? More importantly, how does Ishaan, who’s lived his entire life in a sprawling bungalow with its own garden? Will he adjust to playing cricket in the narrow compound? Or will he get bored of the game, coz he’ll have to constantly check his shots to avoid breaking car windshields & apartment windows? How will he adjust to his new school, a large set-up as opposed to his present small family-like environment? That he’ll cry is a given, for how long is what worries me! Oh I know he’ll adjust eventually, we all will, it’s not like we have a choice. But it won’t be easy, and we don’t have to like it…which is what scares me. There is of course the bright side, thank goodness! All the advantages of living in a Metro will automatically be ours…better education, opportunities, healthcare…although sometimes I think that depends on every person’s personal definition of ‘better’. Our apartment although tiny is situated in a quiet lane (in itself a miracle in Bombay), and surrounded by the green tops of the surrounding coconut palms. It is not far from a couple of parks that will have to serve as Ishaan’s playgrounds. And Goa is just a 40 minute plane ride away 🙂 Never thought I would be saying this, but I think I’m going to miss it more than I care to admit 😛

So this has been an eye-opener of a trip. It’s brought me face to face with my own prejudices and fears, but also left me with the knowledge that every crisis can be overcome with the right attitude and approach. It’s not a new lesson, just an old one that has been reinforced and now sits deep & comfortably within my conscience. And I’m a better person for it.

NO. MORE. TEARS.

If you’ve lived long enough (and Lord knows I have), Death becomes as commonplace as, well just about everything else. I never thought about it until my aunt said something to the effect on Sunday, when we both lost a Man we loved dearly 😦 We were on the phone and I was mouthing the usual empty platitudes one does at such times, when she said in a voice shaky with tears, “Don’t worry Darling. I’m alright. Really. It’s a shock of course and so terribly sad but it’s become kind of a habit now.” That just knocked my socks off. We’ve lost most of our older generation in the last decade and so just like she said…we’ve become habituated. We have learned to grieve and carry on. Perhaps it has helped to know that they led long and fulfilled lives, for the most part. Sometimes, like in Anna’s case, it helps to know that he didn’t suffer when the end came. Either way, what it amounts to is ‘No more tears’. I’m all cried out and for now I choose to remember the good times and celebrate the happy memories.

‘Anna’ (meaning Big Brother), is what I used to call him. He was my Grand-uncle. Isn’t it strange how in the space of a second, everything is in ‘past tense’? Well…c’est la vie. Anna was the youngest of five siblings, my Mom’s youngest paternal uncle. He was adored as a child and if sources are to be believed, quite the ‘Brat’ 😛 He was intelligent, charming, a music-lover, a dog-lover, generous to a fault, stubborn, a chain smoker, an eccentric, a confirmed bachelor, part curmudgeon part wise-old-man, devoted family man, a chemist par excellence, temperamental, honest, funny, in-your face…the list is endless. Because he was so smart, he was sent to the US where he completed his Doctorate in Chemistry from Berkeley, much to the pride and delight of the entire clan 🙂 No mean feat that! His Mom had had to pawn her gold to raise the money to make it happen! He never forgot the sacrifices his family had made to give him a great education and perhaps that’s why he didn’t bat an eyelid, when he left a promising career behind in the US to come and set-up a highly successful chemical manufacturing business with his brother, one that they ran with passion and integrity for several decades. Because of their example, I still believe that it is possible to be successful in business in India, without resorting to corruption, despite all the evidence to the contrary these days!

I knew him all my life. He and Aboda (his older brother), were my childhood Santa Clauses 🙂 They spoilt me with love & gifts! Boxes of fireworks for Diwali, sweets, books, music, movies, joy-rides in the stately Ambassador (remember those!), anything I wanted I got! And later when we moved to Goa, cartons of foodstuff – tins of condensed milk, bags of Cadbury éclairs, packets of Jello and other goodies! The walkie-talkie doll he brought me back from the US still stands in her wooden case in my aunt’s house to this day! As I write, I realize how difficult it is for me to separate the two even in my memories! It’s always been that way. Aboda & Anna. Anna & Aboda. They were inseparable. I must say though that as a child there were times when Anna got on my juvenile nerves! He would buy mangoes or some other delicacy and then insist I sit down in front of him and eat one right there and then! There was no refusing him when he got into one of his stubborn fits! I didn’t always want to and it bugged me no end. I remember Mom saying how it was such a little thing that brought him so much happiness, ‘Surely you won’t deny him that darling? He loves you so much!’ I didn’t always understand then, but I do now. Of course he did. I did too, just my youth acting up!

When I joined Medicine, I remember how proud he was 🙂 He presented me with my first ever copy of ‘Goodman & Gilman’, that humungous treatise on Pharmacology, his biggest love after family! He adored both the subject and that book and for me any tribute to him would be incomplete without mention of it! He read that book from cover to cover, every new edition, until the end of his days, and relished the long discussions that followed with me. I can’t honestly say I enjoyed them quite as much 😉 For one, he always knew more than I did and for another I never quite convinced him that real life rarely follows textbooks! No illness in the family was spared and we are not a family stingy with our ill health 😛 Diabetes, Hypertension, Parkinson’s, Muscular Dystrophy, and now Dementia…we’ve given him enough reading to last him his lifetime! We had endless discussions on new drugs, side effects, doses and much else…I’m afraid I didn’t realize quite how much I’m going to miss them, now he’s gone.

For the last two years of his life, after his sister-in-law passed away, he led a very solitary existence. We were all of us caught up with our lives and I know I for one didn’t call him as often as I should have. The times I did, I found he didn’t have much to say anymore, his life being restricted by arthritis. He still read Goodman & Gilman though, watched a bit of TV and still worried about all of us, like the Anna of old. Some things never change 🙂 When we heard he had had a fall, we spoke on the telephone. I am so very grateful for that phone call now – it was the last time I heard his voice. He was fine he said, and not to worry! The doctor had been informed and my aunt was with him for the day. So the next morning when we received the call, we couldn’t wrap our heads around it at first. How could he be gone? We just spoke yesterday! You know, the usual shocked disbelief. It’s been four days now and I’ve had time to cogitate. I’m grateful now for the fact that he didn’t suffer at the end. No lingering on some unfriendly hospital bed, no losing his mind, no pain…just a quick release from what must have been a lonely existence. When you’ve lived long enough and seen what I’ve seen, believe you me, a quick release is something to be thankful for!

The last time I saw him was in 2009, when we visited with Ishaan 🙂 He was so thrilled to meet yet another generation of the family! I remember him telling Mom later how the pitter-patter of a child’s feet can fill even the emptiest soul with music 🙂 I wish Ishaan had had a chance to get to know him. I wish…oh so many things! My enduring memory will always be one of him sitting in his favorite armchair in the living room of the house he lived in all my life, with his spectacle case on the table next to him, reading G & G.

I miss him. Always will. That’s a given. Sometimes I wonder whether my heart doesn’t resemble a very holey piece of cheese…I’ve lost so many people I’ve loved and admired. They’ve left spaces that can never be entirely filled again. And yet here I am people. A survivor. And that’s what Anna was. That’s his legacy to me. And I mean to honor it and him for what time I have left, here on Earth.

No. More. Tears.

Love you Anna.

Peace & Happiness wherever you are 🙂

Parenting Dad…Happy Father’s Day to Us!

I didn’t realize yesterday was Father’s Day until Facebook let me know! Honestly, what did we do before Facebook? 😛 Not that it made much of a difference once I did know. Have never been one for celebrating ‘Days’. For one it can get expensive 😛 Before you label me an ingrate however, let me assure you that I love my Dad dearly, probably more so now than ever, as the time we have together becomes more finite.

I’ve always been Daddy’s girl 🙂 Mom tells stories of how he doted on me as a child, doing everything he could, even carrying me long distances even when I was 5!! That fact assumes true significance when you know that I was always a ‘healthy’ child 😉 My favorite story is the one in which I’m hurt by broken milk bottles and Dad is telling everyone off 😉 Hearing Mom & Grandma describe it, I imagine the blood gushing from my hands (although the exact details are hazy!), and a river of red all over the kitchen floor where it happened; Mom & Gran having hysterics; and Dad gathering me up in his arms, yelling at them while trying to comfort me and run downstairs to the doctor all at the same time. I like to imagine myself as cool as a cucumber amidst all this chaos! Yeah, yeah…I like to feel important now and again folks, even if it was more than…well, however many decades ago 😉

But I have memories of my own too 🙂 I remember very clearly running up the stairs just after I had got my 10^th Grade results. Here in India, 10^th Grade is a big deal. It’s the last year of school, after which there’s a public examination (in every State), and one enters college. I had done really well and was among the top 50 students in Goa! I remember feeling nervously proud running up those stairs…wanting desperately to make Dad proud and afraid that I might have still managed to fail him somehow. You know the feeling! I needn’t have worried, as I flung open the terrace door and blurted out my news, the look on his face was everything I’d dreamt of and more 🙂 I remember him hugging me (probably coz we’re not at all a touchy, feely family!) and saying “Well Done!” or ‘Congratulations” or some such. It’s not important what he said. Sometimes I think it’s not even important how he felt. I think the most important feeling that day was how making him proud made me feel! Validated, worthy, proud and loved 🙂 It’s a feeling I’ll cherish forever, one that warms my heart to this day 🙂

Needless to say, I don’t remember Dad ever ticking me off or denying me anything I wanted throughout my childhood within reason. It’s a wonder I didn’t grow up thinking I was the center of the universe coz I certainly was the center of his! Or did I 😉 You guys can be the judges of that! There was one occasion though that I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday, when I threw a tantrum (I was very big on tantrums! They may be best described as flamboyant if you get my meaning! Much to my Mom’s satisfaction, Ishaan is now paying me back with my own coin so to speak :P), and stamped on his newly polished leather shoes! I got a well-deserved whack for my troubles! Dad was very particular about his appearance. He had a large wardrobe of suits and was always spiffily attired! Debonair is the word that comes to mind 🙂

Dad & I...I was 6.

Over the years I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that no matter what I grew up thinking, my Dad is not God. He has his faults and like in all of us, age does nothing to temper them. I’ve also had to come to terms with how much I am like him! It makes me at once very proud and very scared. I’ve inherited his looks, his love for beautiful things; his interest in photography; his generous spirit of giving; his keen intellect and curious nature; his laughter and love of a good joke; his stubbornness; his ego; his love for debate; his mercurial temper and his love for a good drink and junk food 🙂 He’s given me all this and so much more, it’s hard to know where he ends and I begin. And now, when he’s old and tired and spent, I find the roles reversed. I find myself parenting the man who taught me everything I know. I lend him my hands and shoulders for support. I help him find words, find meaning and often himself. I watched like an anxious parent when he took his first unaided steps after the surgery and I still watch him to this day, ready to catch him if he should fall. I buy him the junk food that he once bought me 🙂 and smooth his brow when he’s worried and confused, willing away his troubles, wanting to bear his burdens as he once bore mine. How did it come to this? Perhaps this is the circle of Life…parents’ father children and eventually children father parents.

So on this Father’s Day, I want to say THANK YOU & I LOVE YOU to the BEST Dad I could have had 🙂 and I know that if I can be even a fraction of what he’s been and continues to be to me, we’re going to be Ok.

Love you Daddy! Always will 🙂