Click here to read the first post ( first month!)
"When Appa didn't have my hand, he had my back..."
I know life moves on and everybody moves on eventually, but I am still here, I want to be here , to be honest...reminscing my past, through my college days now! I am trying to hold on to my precious memories that stood out for me, with Appa.
Here's a story I wrote for the "Chicken Soup for the Indian Teenage Soul", in 2009! I got published in a book, thanks to a real-life account that illustrates what an amazing parent Appa was...I am pasting the story here for your reference.
All Grown Up
It was the year
1998 and I was about 18 years old. I used to go for accounts tuitions after college.
I am an extrovert and never short of words at any time. So after class, when my
friend Rishabh and I got talking about our futures, we didn’t realize we’d been
having a conversation for close to two hours on the main road. It was 9.30 at
night.
My dad got worried and came looking for me. He saw us standing on the road engrossed in our conversation. My dad is strict, and my brother and I are terrified of incurring his wrath. So, the minute I saw my dad, I was gripped by fear. I was mentally prepared for a showdown right in front of Rishabh. Instead, my dad smiled at me and said “Come, let’s go home. It’s really late”. I was relieved that he had not embarrassed me in front of my friend but suspected I was in for it once we got home.
To my pleasant surprise, all he did then was sit me down and say “Listen, I have no problems with your friendship with other boys and I have implicit trust in you. But, there is a time and place for everything. You can invite your friends home or vice versa and chat all you want. I don’t want complete strangers seeing you talking to guys on the street and coming to the wrong conclusion. And, for your own safety, please make sure you don’t stay out so late at night”.
I thought of what someone had rightly said: ‘Treat people as if they were what they ought to be, and you’ll help them to become what they are capable of being.’
Perhaps, Appa realized that he ought to get things off his chest without losing his cool, as he began to understand that I was at a sensitive age. It was heartening to hear him say that he had confidence in me. Under the circumstances, he could have drawn his own conclusions from the lateness of the hour and the company he saw me in and disciplined me as he always did. I felt happy to hear him speak so calmly and explain his views to me, as if my feelings mattered.
I felt he respected me and treated me like an adult that day. That is what every teenager secretly wants.
As a teenager, you are in the midst of developing your own individuality, and an ego in addition. At that point, if Appa had shouted at me, I would have been emotionally scarred for life with the memory of being humiliated in the presence of a fellow student, and it would have spoiled our already delicate relationship.
That day was a revelation. It transformed my attitude towards Appa. I felt proud of the faith he placed in me. Since then, I pointedly decided to never breach the trust of my parents in any way. I always inform them of my whereabouts, the friends I’m meeting, and important decisions I plan to make. In fact, I informed Appa that I am bunking classes to go for a movie instead, in college! He let me!
Appa was always very active and fit, he never looked his age. One advice or suggestion or life lesson he practised even before preaching is to help others as much as possible, financially ( whenever you have a bit of excess) and physically anytime you can. When many people come up to us, ( Amma, Anna or I) - it is always this, that he helped them when they were in distress, financially whenever it was possible. I love the fact that he never differentiated in helping, from a bank employee to a vegetable vendor - they are all human and we all need to be humane. (To this day, the vegetable vendor comes home to deliver even a bunch of coriander if Appa/Amma need something!)I know, for a fact, that he learnt this from his father, my Thatha, my grandfather.
Unfortunately, he passed away before I was born. But I know for a fact, Appa revered his father, his ideals , his innate need to help others. This is a story I have often heard from him about Thatha, exactly 10 years back... ( it was in my draft for a submission for "Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul", I thought this is the perfect time and place to share this story).
My father was a clerk in State Government service with a meagre income. He had many mouths to feed, including 8 children, his parents and parents-in-law. Often, he would not even get two proper meals in a day. Needless to say, he had never been to a hotel or a theatre or had any form of entertainment.
This incident happened in the year 1947 when I was 8 years old. It was raining heavily outside and my father who had gone to the temple, came back home fully drenched. As he entered the house, he called my mother and asked her to prepare fresh dinner quickly. My mom replied exasperatedly:
“There is hardly anything for us to eat. Infact, tonight we are all going to eat just rice and buttermilk (or curd rice as we call it, we could not even afford to have curd rice at that time for that matter).
What is the matter? Why do you want fresh dinner now? – My mother enquired.
“The poor madman near the temple seems to be suffering from fever. He is not able to get up, his body is shivering. He seems to be very hungry too. He needs immediate attention.” – My father replied.
We all knew that madman; we had seen him outside the temple. A tall fair man, around 65-70 years old, with long hair and a flowing white beard, he would talk to himself or curse someone all the time. A man of pride, he would not beg for alms. People visiting the temple would give him some money or eatables of their own volition. He did not have many belongings except for one or two dhotis and a bag on his shoulder. It was believed that he was from an illustrious family. His own avaricious relatives tormented him, drove him out of the house and usurped his wealth. This trauma drove him mad. Since then, he stayed at the temple.
My mother asked -
“Are you crazy? That chap is a beggar and a madcap, we ourselves have nothing much to eat and manage somehow! It’s raining cats and dogs outside. It’s already 10 in the night, now you want me to prepare fresh dinner for the sake of that man? Are you mad?”
My father got wild and shouted at her, “Don’t talk nonsense. He has nobody else to take care of him. Do as I say.” Having said that to my mother, my father left in the pouring rain to bring the man home in an auto rickshaw.
Cursing her fate, my mother went inside grudgingly to prepare fresh dinner. My father returned with the man, served dinner to him caringly and asked him to stay over for the night in our house. Next morning, the rain stopped. He was offered a cup of coffee and then with an expression of gratitude he left the place blessing us all.
That night I learnt about love and respect for
fellowmen. It is not too difficult to give little in charity when you have
plenty. However, the desire and eagerness to help others regardless of your own
circumstances is truly noble. I am 71 now and this is just one of several
incidents that have deeply influenced my way of thinking. Since then, I have
always tried to help others as much as possible and strongly believe that God
helps you to help others.
More than anything else, I remember my father for his charity and follow his example till date. I have encouraged my children to have similar values and I hope that they continue in the same vein. Remember, the more you give, the more you get.
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