Family together time

Dad. And Mum. On the 250 cc Yezdi. Taking two little kids (Sam and me) out on a long ride. To the Madras Airport. And just spending time there - watching planes land and take-off. Awesome! It fills me with a sense of pride when I look back on such whacky "outings" my parents have provided us with. In today's world, where all people can think of for "hanging out" is a mall, this thought-train seems quite far-fetched. But it's something that Smitha and I have learnt to do quite well - going out doesn't necessarily mean dressing up, pulling out all the stops and a reservation at a fancy restaurant (we do that too, occasionally). We have long rides on the highway with a stop for chaai (tea) from a roadside shop; we've got paani poori outings and window-shopping trips. We also throw in the freak, impromptu 10.00 pm film watching routine into the mix. Walking around in Mathikere for Kulfi, just simply chilling on the terrace are also part of the deal. All this - cos Mum and Dad showed us by example that time together for a family can be had through a variety of means. Dad introduced us to the Litchi fruit during one of those outings. Dosa from the Dosa King (instant dosa making machine!) at the Central station was a must-eat if we went to the station. There are many, many such instances and "things" which became "stuff that the Herberts do". Most of such things have ceased to be today; but their memories linger in the warmth of our hearts. And hopefully, this warmth would remain as long as we remain on this mortal plane and provide us moments of comfort during the cold, lonely storms that life tosses in our direction. For these memories - all of them - thanks Mum, Dad and Sam. I am blessed.

Family film time

Our family has been one that has unabashedly watched plenty of good films in the theater. Right from ancient classics in the late 80s to many family films in the 90s - our parents would take us to the theater. I can clearly remember watching Aladdin, Jurassic Park, Dennis the Menace and several other films in the 1990s and the 2000s. A story I've repeated numerous times is worth repeating once more - two nights before my Higher Secondary Computer Science exam, my parents took my bro and I for the night show (10.00 pm) at Satyam theater (it was well worth it; we watched The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring). There have been plenty of relationships that have been forged and melded during these theater times - our "bro" family, the Elangos, started becoming what they are to us today (in my opinion) with the viewing of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. There have been film marathons in Maayajaal with Sam T annan and Remo annan and other such "together" times with other friends and family. Time and again, somebody raises the question "Isn't it wrong to watch films?" or the perfectly nonsensical "Isn't it wrong to go to the Theater?" I'm not going to debate on that right now - I just want everyone to know that I really have cherished those family film times with all that popcorn and coke that's been consumed. I've had a pretty amazing childhood, and many of these family film times are part of the fondest memories of that childhood. So thanks to Mum, Dad and Sam for making up these memorable times.

Love expects greater responsibility

I've covered how light Mum's punishment was in Hitting without hurting and I'm not going to go into Dad's means of punishment (which involved physical pain, and was well-deserved). However, I must mention a character trait of Dad that's proved very benefitting in many ways. Dad has this sense of extra caution when it comes to his own kids. If other folk need to cross a line by a mile to get reprimanded by him, his kids need to cross the line by just half that distance to be reprimanded. When that reprimand comes, mind you, it can be quite unnerving. I remember times of metaphorical trembling and withdrawing into a shell, much like a tortoise. I used to completely dislike my Dad at those specific times. For what I thought was public humiliation. Until Kiran Pio happened. Yes - September 2001, the first Volunteers' Training Camp away from the SU camp site (at the Coramandel Country Club), an incident occurred that changed the way I perceived this side of my Dad forever. I don't remember exact details other than my Dad sternly reminding me that I should be with my books, and I should not be out chatting and fooling around (which I was). Stunned into silence, I went away to find my books and comfort in my solitude. Years later, Kiran Pio (who was near me during that incident), informs me that this incident had a profound influence on him. Apparently, he was shocked that someone could so meekly take a Father's reprimand. God apparently used this incident to help him out. I just sat open-mouthed in awe at what miniscule things and hurts our God uses to help the folk around us. I never again felt hurt or bitter or even sad when Dad reprimanded me for mistakes made; I knew there was a purpose behind each reprimand, and God was thick in the midst of these reprimands. Thanks Dad, for all those reprimands. They've brought me here today.

Buying stuff in bigger packs

Mum always bought stuff in bigger packs. Family pack? Double-pack? Triple-pack? Seen them all, bought them all. Toothpaste was always bought in a 250g or a 200g tube (the 250g tubes became increasingly hard to find!). Single- or double- packs of Maggi Noodles were seldom bought in our house. Why would we buy them when they had four- and six- packs? This attitude translates into my own grocery and provision shopping with Smitha these days. We go in for the larger packs, the larger bottles, the larger everything. Is there a right size for stuff? Is it better to buy the smaller or the larger packs? I've no clue. But I cringe at even the thought of not being able to buy Shampoo/Conditioner in one of the standard-sized bottles (we get them humongously big, imported bottles from a Spar Hypermarket). This may not be a big deal for some of you - but for me, it's the way I live - it's how things work for me. For putting this integral buying sense into me without even trying, I have my Mum to thank. Thanks, Mum.

My family stands by me

Note: There are a million (maybe more) times that my family has stood by me. I'm just recounting one incident which clearly highlighted this fact and double-underlined it, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

There was a stike in my college (CSI CE, Ketti) in February, 2005. I was in my third year, and I was in the thick of things - including being a part of the student committee (selected by the management) shouldering the responsibility of working things out with the management. When third year completed and I was waiting to get back to my final year at college, a bomb dropped. The college sent a letter to my Dad asking him to meet with the Principal regarding my "admission" into college that year. They also spoke to a close family friend in Ooty, and informed him that they should look out for me in other colleges. We were like "Huh, what?!" So Dad, Mum and I made the trip to Ketti. Sam joined us along the way (from Bangalore) and the three of them went in to meet the Principal. When I was called in a bit later, it was not me in the hot seat - our dear Principal was being asked questions by my Dad, my Mum and my brother (with all his knowledge of corporate functioning, he had some choice questions for the Principal). Basically, the Principal was hurt that I had asked him a few honest questions and informed him of a few honest student opinions. Little did he know that calling my family would give him bigger, more questioning versions of me. I'm not gloating or boasting. Simply put, this incident left a strong sense of "My family stands by me!" inside me. My parents didn't scold me (atleast as much as I expected them to) and they did not mention even once that they had been called all the way to college and that this could have been a shameful affair. When you comfortably know that your family is rocking right beside you and with you, everything else in the world seems small. Thanks to Dad, Mum and Sam for being that rocking family. Yaiy!

Die Hard Dad

Our family crashed to an accident with all four of us on the bike - in November, 1996. Fortunately (should I even be using that word while talking about this tragedy?!), we were almost right in front of the Apollo Hospital (with the emergency ward) on Poonamallee High Road. We were rushed there in an auto, and the situation was pretty grim; Mum had her face scarred and marred beyond recognition - it looked like a minefield after the enemy has attempted to cross it multiple times. Sam, who had been dragged by a passing auto-rickshaw had a huge ghastly "wound" on his knee. His back hurt, and that needed an X-ray. Me, I was the least hurt - I had scratches on my palms and elbows. Dad had blood profusely pouring out of two deep gashes - one in his forehead and the other near his elbow. There were other scratches and bruises for him. So the Doc and the nurses are fixing us all up, injections, stitches - the works. And my Dad asks the Doc "I've a programme in Tambaram tomorrow. Can I take the bike?" Sam T annan (friend of the family) who was there said "This man is die hard!" It stunned and shocked me. Accident, hurt, wounds, crashed bike - all could be damned; the work that he had a heart for, was what was most important. That, my dear friends, is a near-impossible role model to live upto; a target that I can only hope and pray to achieve by atleast 50%. While God works on me to get me to that 50%, I've simply got to say a "Thank you" to the real-life die hard hero I've got - thanks, Dad.

Late Night Mum

Mum began her Ph. D. in Theology in 1995. The computer entered our house in early 1996. Slowly yet steadily, Mum became more and more of a night owl. When I was in school, I used to wonder what made her sit back so late and work on her thesis and stuff. I got to college and I understood. There've been nights when I've yakked away my time till midnight, and then sat down to work on some project (read: awesome animated intro) or finish up my notes - which could go on till about 4 or 5 in the morning. I surprised myself at such times, because I'm generally quite lazy by nature. However, I also understood why Mum used to sit up so late - the brain finds it easier to crank at high speeds when there's nothing/no one else around. I still loving sitting up at night, yawns and sleepy eyes in full tow - to get that article done, to finish up that email or to just devour the latest news on technology's greatest. You may think this is wrong, but I think this is an invaluable part of my  life and I feel hugely indebted to my Mum for leading the way, lighting the path ahead and raising me to these heights. Thanks, Mum.