• Father's Day Contest - 10 Life Lessons I Learnt From My Father




    ‘I am writing ‘10 life lessons I learnt from my father’ at Parentous.com‘


    Parenting in the early ’60s was different from parenting today. Children in those days were seen and not heard. We had to trot out like angels, smile and greet everybody and then slowly melt into our rooms and keep out of the way of the grown ups. 

    Like all little girls I was crazy about my father and I like to think he was crazy about me. Growing up we were mostly round my mother because those were the days when gender roles were distinct and fathers were figures whom we had to be wary of ” I’ll tell your father when he comes home that…..” would be the familiar refrain of  desperate mothers when children became hard to control. Fathers didn’t interfere with child rearing and housekeeping and mothers stayed away from matters of tax and government policy, a dichotomy I feel is sadly lacking today .

    But despite the fact that my mother did most of the child rearing, there are some invaluable lessons I learnt from my dad.

    • My dad brought us up to be fiercely independent. I remember getting annoyed with him for not taking us here and there as the other children were but then I also realised that this is how my brother and I became totally independent. We had to learn to do things by ourselves. I remember how mad I used to get when he’d tell me that I had to make my way to a friend’s house but now when I look back I realise that I can get to any place I want because I know I can do it. We had no telephone while growing up so I had to make sure that all my instincts of survival were sharpened so that I could look out for myself. I also learnt that there was nothing I couldn’t do. 
    • Life is an adventure – seek it. Coming from a very traditional, middle class background my father had a sense of adventure and he always encouraged us to look out of the window and think out of the box. We were encouraged to ask questions and actually given projects to do every holiday – learn how to swim, learn how to cycle, learn how to sew, learn about plants and animals, learn how to paint, learn how to take photographs and learn to think for ourselves.
    • Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone – We both had that kinky sense of humour which my mother distinctly seemed to lack ( sorry mom but I seriously think you could never see the funny side of things). My father’s jokes would often be long and rambling but he knew how to tell a story and would keep us in splits with his caustic remarks about the people he met in the world. I used to look forward to his letters which came every week, full of funny anecdotes of people I never met. 

    • Be judicious in your remarks – My father has always been known as a jolly person a side which we never really saw at home. With his dark framed spectacles he always seemed stern and forbidding so we were quite careful with what we said. But somehow I always managed to ask him the wrong question at the wrong time which used to throw him in a rage. At that time I remember being scared but when I look back, I realise how foolish I was to ask him if we were lost when we were distinctly going round in circles in a strange town. 
    • Be bold and be brave – When I was in Class 3, my father allowed me to take our new slide projector to school for a “Show and Tell” class. Those were the days when gizmos like cameras were not very popular so I think it was extremely brave of him to risk an 8 year old with his special toy. But trust begets trust and my father was confident that I could use it properly and bring it back in one piece. 
    • Live life and enjoy it. In my parents’ house life was always one big party. My dad loved calling people home – infact he would always tell us how he met his long lost friend on the train or at a strange place far away – and we always had people come over for one thing or the other. And everything became reason to celebrate. If my father got a good posting, we celebrated, when we did well in school we celebrated and celebration meant having a good meal. In those days when eating out was not encouraged, my father would insist on taking us out at least once a month. My brother and I would be kitted out in our Sunday Best as he liked to call it and we were taken to the best restaurant in town. We were encouraged to try out cuisines which were unfamiliar and introduced to tastes that were strange. Above all we were encouraged to live life and enjoy it. Money, or the lack of it never bothered my father and  he always lived life without penny pinching. While other fathers built bank accounts, my father taught my brother and me to  enjoy life to the fullest. We had lots of toys while growing up, chocolates and cheeses which we could access, we could use his type writer, his camera and even his car.
    • My mother was a teacher but I learnt how to think from my father. He was hugely creative and was always learning something new – He encouraged us to develop hobbies like stamp collecting, playing games, and skills like painting and singing. Once I complained to him about the short letters he used to send and he diligently cut up a sheet of paper into strips which he stuck together to make a nice looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong letter. He loved reading and I used to enjoy our weekly trips to the book shop to choose two paperbacks for each of us. 
    • One summer holiday my father came home on leave with an envelope which he had to hand over to a brother officer. I remember even now after all these years that  the envelope was handed over but no one knew where it went. A few days later my father was told that it contained Rs.700, a princely amount indeed in the late ’60s. Yet my father made good the amount even though he was a mere carrier without the slightest fuss – saying that he should have checked things out before agreeing to do something. Since that day I have been wary of carrying parcels or doing odd jobs for strangers. 

    • Things always get done : When I look back at the way my father’s life unfolded, I discovered that things always get done. While he likes to think he is very organised and my mother likes to think he’s otherwise, I’ve somehow found that things always get done. Of course while things were going wrong he’d be anxious and frustrated, short tempered and testy but the one thing I’ve learnt from this is that there is a time for everything and things only happen when they are meant to. By and large my father’s never been one to worry, leaving that to my mother. He gives the impression of being messy and untidy but seems to have a system that works for him. When all else fails he shouts out to my mother and the job is done which proves his theory that somehow or the other things always get done!
    • Tell it like it is – Tact was never one of my father’s virtues and he was known to be frank and often brusque. He never couched my fears of injections with silly little lies like ” oh it is just like a pinch” but tell me to look the needle squarely in the eye and face up to it! Sometimes this trait of his would discourage me especially when I used to go up expecting praise but this only taught me that life is not always about accolades and one can take criticism in one’s stride.

    So today while I am looking more and more like my mother, there are some who say I am just like my father…….. Happy Father’s Day dear Daddy!

     

  •                                            

    For the past several days I’ve been enjoying some peace and quiet because our landline wasn’t working. My mobile phone doesn’t get a proper signal largely because I was one of the active activists protesting against the mobile towers that had shot up faster than the first monsoon shoots peeking from the pavement. So I was quite happy to be incommunicado and was willing to let a dead phone lie. But there are times when you need to be contactable or at least be able to contact someone which is why I had to make a complaint to the MTNL informing them that my phone needed fixing.

    Since the advent of mobile phones, our telephone land lines have been surprisingly well behaved, so much so that I had quite forgotten the number to call for telephone complaints. I searched through our really old and fossilised telephone directory ( it hasn’t been updated for almost a decade) and found that I still had to call 198 for making complaints. After pressing 3 for information in English, I had to dial in the faulty telephone number without disconnecting the phone. Once the telephone number was verified I was given a docket number and that was it.

    For two days, however, there was absolutely no sign of anyone from the MTNL so I assumed that the fault was being repaired at the exchange and was therefore surprised when Tweedledum and Tweedledee appeared at three in the afternoon. When the bell rang, I was busy on the other phone and had absolutely no clue who Bayda was staring at so intently till finally I couldn’t resist, stopped my call and asked her who it was at the door.

    Now Bayda has the knack of disturbing me when I am doing something really important to tell me about something totally inconsequential so I was quite annoyed that she didn’t disturb me while I was on a rather inconsequential phone call to tell me about the important arrival of the telephone repairers. But I managed to keep my temper in check and went to see for myself what was going on. There they were, two employees from the MTNL.

    Me : So what’s the matter?
    Tweedledum : Your phone is not working.
    Me : I know that. That’s why I called you.
    Tweedledee who was clinging to the wall and twisting some wires overhead : The phone line is working upto here. It doesn’t work upto your phone.
    Me : I know that. That’s why I called you. So what are you going to do?
    Tweedledum : Nothing.
    Me  totally amazed at this brazen acknowledgement of ineptitude : What do you mean nothing?
    Tweedledum and Tweedledee : Well, we can’t fix the fault. We can just identify it.
    Me : But what do you expect me to do?
    Tweedledum : You are supposed to fix it.
    Me : ME? How can I?
    Tweedledum : I don’t know that. I only know that you are supposed to fix it. It only works upto here outside your house. It is not working inside your house so you have to fix it.
    Me: Are you crazy? How can I fix it? I don’t even know from where to get the wire?
    Tweedledum condescendingly : Ok I’ll have a look.
    He enters the house and asks me not to move anything including the desk behind which the telephone connection is hidden.
    Me : Then how do you expect to find the fault?
    Tweedledee, luckily acknowledging that he doesn’t have X Ray vision : Oh! So that’s where the wire goes?!
    Me : Yes.
    After I move the desk, Tweedledee tells Tweedledum : The wire goes outside the house . Can you see from the window where the wire goes?
    The window cannot be opened since it is boarded up as our building is being repaired from the outside. So I called him to the balcony to see if he could trace the wire from there.
    Tweedledum has one look at the wiring and points it out to me : See that’s where the wire goes.
    Me : Of course I know that. That’s what I’m trying to tell you that the wire comes in from the outside.
    Tweedledum wiping the sweat off his face : Ok I’ll step out and see what the matter is.

    Now I live on the 23rd floor and  notwithstanding the scaffolding, I didn’t think it a good idea to step out and see what was happening. Somehow I managed to restrain him from stepping out and I think he was so relieved that that he told Tweedledee to pull in the wire and find out the fault.
    Five minutes later Tweedledee shows me 20 feet of wire :  See this is where the fault is.
    I could see nothing but nod sagely.
    Tweedledee fixes the wire and puts back the phone: It’s working he tells me .

    Enhanced by Zemanta
  • Indisputably Karmic!

                                                   

                                                        

    The more I see of life, the more I’m convinced that things unfold just the way they’re meant to be. Tutu Aunty was one of those larger than life women I had met as a little girl. Our interactions were infrequent and I never met her again but I can never forget her personality – it was just too loud to be forgotten. Of course I was all of four when I made this impression , when loud meant a different kind of loudness – anyone who laughed too openly or spoke too loudly qualified as loud in my child’s mind. And she was big , yet again from my three feet high perspective. She had a way of making her presence felt in a way that you could never forget her and what has made her even unforgettable is  what has now become our family folk lore – her  claim that she was going to be the wife of a successful man. This story has been told to me time and time again by my mother who always admired Tutu’s confidence and supreme faith in the fact that her husband’s success was dependent on HER because it was in HER destiny to be the wife of a successful man! So while her husband doggedly went at his work, Tutu continued living her life the way she wanted, supremely confident that her husband would reach the top of his ladder purely on the basis that she was his wife.

    Fortunately, Tutu Auntie’s faith in this prophecy proved true .

    This morning I opened the newspaper to find yet another example of a woman succeeding after her husband’s demise. For years this lady had laboured at her workplace without much monetary reward or recognition. In fact she had had a tough life-  managing a home, a career and a husband who demanded a lot of her time and energy with his chronic ill health. Suddenly, with his sad demise, it wasn’t just another door that opened up but the whole world that suddenly became her oyster.

    No sooner did she get back on her feet  than she found a job that was fulfilling and bringing her fame and fortune too! It seemed that her husband and his karma was pulling her down and with him out of the way, her career was free to blossom.

    But the fact that she was “unsuccessful” all this while only proves Jo’s theory that our lives are a Novel scripted by God  to make a perfect story . So a spouse may pull down or pull up a person’s career, but one cannot deny or defy one’s karmic destiny.

    Enhanced by Zemanta
Create your own website, free on WordPress.com.Create your own website.
Start free