*Long, rambling blog alert*
Appreciating something while it is there does not come easily. I let my brother go, postponing that chat, that movie, that gossip session, when I had spent so much time with my friends, some of whose names I can’t even remember properly, whom I might not even recognize if I saw them now.
My new year resolution this time around is this – I will count my blessings, and when I consider someone a blessing in my life, I will tell it to that person. I will see the colours of the rainbow in everything I see, and will try to also see those overlapping colours. No more regrets, no ache-in-the-throat evenings spent wishing things were different.
My father: An engineer and a brilliant student himself, and having a very brilliant couple of sons, he could never quite fathom how my mind would go into a tizzy trying to understand how to do square roots and algorithms. But he is the person who taught me to be comtemplative, to read so earnestly that it resonates in my mind for months and years, and even now, when I start reading a book, the sound of his support rings in my ears. He gave us enough sun, metaphorically, to keep our attitude bright. But he also made us aware of much rain, so we could appreciate the sun more. The quintessential artist stuck in a job which had nothing artistic about it, ( for years there had been a pencil sketch of Venus de Milo which was framed in our house I thought was a photograph – I found much later that my dad had sketched it), he still was a huge success in his job, and is admired and remembered for his integrity and honesty and acumen and knowledge in all things engineering by people at his place of work. And today, if my son needs to draw something for his project, he turns to Nanaji, (obviously, the aesthetic gene did not travel very far). When the plumbing goes wrong in my house, the wiring gets crossed, no puns intended anywhere, we just need to ring Baba and tell him, and it gets sorted. He’s nearly 80, and we are in our forties. Still.
My elder brother. IIT Kanpur graduate, went to the US for his MS/Ph.D and then post doc., he had no real intentions of coming back and settling in India. But after my younger brother passed away, he did not think twice, just finished his post-doc in 3 months and was back with us, to be my support while I was handling this huge loss of and on my own and taking care of my parents as they coped with theirs. He, to me, is the epitome of sacrifice – not once in the last several years have I heard him express any yearning for what he left behind to be here. Always fair, always honest – he is a very hard act to follow. He has taught me how enough pain in life can be used to tranform it to appreciate happiness more, and to keep our spirit alive. We were dying each minute, those years ago. He taught me how well he utilized his loss to prioritize his life. He taught me how, when life gives us lemons, we need to just make pickle and eat it. Through him, I saw how I should appreciate what I do possess.
My mother. The ever protective. The ever optimist. The one fiercely protective of her children. So much so that the day after my older brother came and 4 days after my younger one had left us, she came to the kitchen and took over the kitchen from myriad relatives, because she thought we needed normalcy in our lives, my brother needed to see we would do fine and he need not return. He did return, but that was his personal choice. My mother. Displaying colossal strength in adversity. The exuberance in celebration. The stubbornness in the given word. The teacher of integrity and morals. I can unabashedly say that my mother’s showing us that despite losing one son, she showed us very clearly how much she valued what she had left. She showed that she still had reason evey morning to open her window and let the sun in because we, her other two children were still there.
My parents, together this time. It was the strength of my parents’ conviction and not the command of their voices which spurred us on to take up battles we were not at all sure of winning. They taught us not to be materialistic and taught us that while it was OK to be introverted, it was not OK to be indifferent to the world around us. They taught us aggression, but also taught us when to use that. Aggression to fight for one’s rights and for the rights of others, for one’s principles, one’s beliefs. Aggression to fight fear, to not succumb to injustice or inequality. They exposed me to culture and art, to personalities of great talent and fora of great discussions and debates. We learnt that MS Subbalakhsmi could be heard after listening to Don Maclean, Tagore could be as rewarding as Akilan and Kovi Manisekaran, even if the latter were in translation. They are also the ones who showed us that reading Louis L’amour was as important as reading Chekov. They taught us to be eclectic in our choices, of books, music, movies, friends – in everything. They taught us to appreciate differences in others and to be fair in our assessment of them. I think I take these to lessons very seriously even now. They taught me my incessant hunger for things new and novel and progressive. They taught me “the more you read, the more things you will know, the more things you know, the more places you will go”. I had two left feet, but it was my dad who showed me how to waltz and do the tango and manage to even do it elegantly.They taught us to acknowledge good deeds and to the prevalence of truth and just beings. They are still teaching me the power of tolerance and the bearing of pain. Of the goodness in life and the exuberance of living it.
My younger brother. Lost to us now, but what a life it was, while it was. Came out 2nd in India in ICSE, won the National Talent Scholarship, Rotary International Youth Award amongst many others…….I think my first moral science lesson (that I can remember) was from him. He had to do a calendar with egg shells. Not artistically inclined at all, he asked for my help and I helped him with it. All set for next day. Only I woke up to find this calendar all scrunched up and in the bin. Apopleptic with nervousness, I wondered if the dog had done it. Turns out it was my brother, actually. He couldn’t sleep through the night because of his guilt, as he had not done it himself, so would be essentially cheating, although his teachers would never have known. 3 years his senior, and I was about 10 – and I felt humbled as I have never felt afterwards. I wish I had enough hellos with him to see me through the final goodbye, – one which never happened anyway.
My husband. Irritating to the core with his obsessions. But rock solid in his convictions and integrity. In a dog-eat-dog world of practising medicine, he is one corner that is pure, uncorrupt, incorruptible even. Definitely a lot poorer than his peers, but happy. His patients always get 150% of his time and attention. He screams at them at times when they come with inane questions, but they still come back. Because the good doctor is a good person too, brooking no compromises with his morals and ethics. Very caring, still able to cry when an 85 year old patient dies. That speaks a lot.
My son. He is constantly teaching me. That there is nothing as fulfilling as watching him grow, that I need to teach him all that my parents taught me, and more. Because our childhood realities are not their realities any more, hte world a more complex place. He brings beauty into my world, makes me see things differently. I see him and realize there is a reason why children write with pencils and grown-ups with pens. It’s because what they write can be erased, and erased out of memory, hopefully under happy circumstances, by their parents. How adults carve their lives out is more permanent. Like ink – although even that can be erased. There’s hope yet for us.
And then finally, my dog. He shows me that it is possible to love someone more than one loves oneself. He has no survival instinct separate from mine. If I move from the cold of the bedroom to the toilet for a few minutes, he still prefers to sit in the cold floor waiting for me to come out. He makes coming home a thing of joy. He brings fun and laughter into our staid sedate lives.
They all teach us something. It’s for me to imbibe them.They say it takes a minute to find a special person. An hour to appreciate them. A day to love them. And an entire life to forget them
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