Happy Birthday Dad

Tommorrow my dad turns 60. I wanted to be the first one to wish him, so I called him since its already past midnight in India. There isn’t  too much though that one can say on phone except a few formal greetings combined with the  literal push urging folks to have fun.  But where spoken words fail, written words aid.  So I am writing a letter to my dad, reminiscing about some incidents from my childhood that I would like to share with him.

Dear Dad,

Many, Many, Many…. Happy Returns Of The Day!

Anyone who has ever come in contact with you knows what a strict persona you have as a result of which people are a bit scared of you. But the earliest and many more memories I have of you are the most tender ones. I remember you putting the tincture iodine on my cuts and scrapes; me, screaming frantically even before you brought the medicine soaked cottonball near me and you, trying to pacify me. Once we were travelling to some out of town place in a train and had to sleep on the middle berth. I was scared out of my mind. You held me close and kept on rocking,  reassuring me even as I slept to the wildly swaying motion of the train. The journey from Jammu to Kashmir in the bus was the worst one where I hadn’t let you sleep a bit or enjoy the scenery at all with me throwing up all over you, all the way. This tenderness has come with me a long way and helps me nurture my kids today.

As a kid I was very fascinated by the drawer that you always kept locked. Eventually, I figured out where you hid the keys. I knew that you were a man of order and discipline. Anyone messing with your things would be a big mistake. But I was very curious to see the pictures of your wedding. I loved to imagine you and mom as my moviestars. Finally one summer day, I gathered all my courage and  found the keys, opened the drawer, took out the envelope, saw all the pictures in it and put everything back again in the same order (or so I thought). In the evening I was waiting for you with a rabbit’s heart and sure enough when you came back you asked the dreaded question, “Who touched my drawer?”.

I guess, you actually knew the answer to that but you didn’t make a big issue out of it and I ran out of the house as fast as I could. But I was amazed. How could the man know? I was so careful. Then onward, I continued with my little adventure but I was careful. I was cautious with the order of the pictures, the positioning of the envelope, even the direction of the little key, till I grew so skilled that you didn’t notice (or if you did you never mentioned J ). May be you considered it as a part of my growing up. But the most important thing I learnt from this exercise was Organisational Skills. Even today, everything has to be in perfect order for me. I can notice slightest thing offbeat. This does get on others’ nerves at times but works wonders for me as regards multitasking and running my household efficiently.

During Ganpati Festival it is always your voice that makes itself heard above everyone else while singing ‘Aartis’ (Devotional Songs). It is so high pitched and clear. I was always impressed that my dad sang so well that everyone invited him to sing. I used to try and match you but no matter how hard I tried I could never measure upto you. In the long run though it definitely helped me gain a good sound quality. Today, my loud and clear voice makes me a better orator and I can speak more confidently on stage.

Discussions that you held with mom, colleagues, relatives made me figure that you valued honesty and integrity above everything else. That instilled in me a sense of pride so that I can hold my head high. Dad, there are so many episodes that they can make up a whole book but for now these ones present perfectly what I have to convey. What gift can I give you when you have given me a treasurebox full of sound morals to last a lifetime. The perfectionist in me, I totally owe you.

Love You Dad. HAPPY 60^th BIRTHDAY!

MAY 18th 2011

May 18th, holds a special significance for me. Exactly ten years earlier I set foot on the American soil with a wildly beating heart. I was all alone in my flight journey anxiously anticipating the whole new world awaiting me.

My marriage was a rather hurried affair in a traditional Indian arranged style, so as a couple, me and my husband barely had enough time to spend with each other before he had to leave back to New York for work. So when I came to USA, I had to confront a completely new environment within an alien culture solely trusting my husband whom I immensely liked but still didn’t really know well. In the subsequent years though, his support alone proved to be the biggest asset in every endeavour I made.

My first impression of NY was very grim. While driving from JFK airpot to Staten Island I was shocked to see dull colored apartment buildings on the way. Accustomed to seeing colors everywhere in India, all I could think was, if this is America, what is the big deal? Those early days were very hard when silence of the surroundings drove me crazy. I used to crave for the buzz of the neighbourhood, the attention of people, the usual chitchat of market vendors and the lack of these things often pushed me on the verge of frustration. 

Eventually though, the same silence that I used to hate started evoking a sense of peace in me that I never knew I had. I started listening to the pitter patter of raindrops on rooftop, the rustling of leaves on a windy day, the tinkling of faraway windchimes. Most of all, the quite spells taught me to contemplate, it gave me a clarity of thought. The buildings here may be dull colored but they never look gruesome once they are old and they have no horrid-looking cement marks to patch up leakages.

An important part of my American stay has been my status as a H4 (dependant spouse) visa holder due to which I wasn’t able to work. In those vast free moments, I got opportunities to explore my hobbies. I tried my luck at everything I could lay hands on. Artificial jewellery making, cooking, interior decoration, gardening, photography, painting, scrapbooking. But the most important and the treasured one I rediscovered is Writing, the one I had a flair for since school days but never really pursued.

In spite of all this, several times depression hit me with full force knowing that in India I would have had a hard core career-oriented job. There were times in the past when going back to India seemed to be the topmost priority. Despite this, we chose to stay in USA because something always held us back. Probably even without our knowledge we had started assimilating this culture into our own, it no more felt alien. We liked the discipline, the cleanliness, the pollution-controlled environment, the easy access to nature here. During  these ten years we travelled a lot and the unpredictable beauty of this diverse land left us mesmerised.

There’s a saying, ‘Do in Rome as the Romans do’ but  amazingly in USA,  the free country that it is , this does not apply. Rather the population here is really versatile in accepting the immigrant culture. I have always celebrated our major festivals with full glory and never felt a shade of gloom during these days. I have fallen in love with the country I have explored in the last decade.

India beckons from time to time with its colorful sights n’sounds and I give in to temptation. After all, my very own morals and values find their  firm roots in the rich brown Indian soil.

Today, India resides in my heart as ‘Back Home’ but USA has made a special place for itself as my ‘New Home’.