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.

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.

Bring home the tasty pastry

This was another well-loved staple in our house. Whenever Dad went shopping (with Mum or alone), he would come back with some tasty treats for the "kids". This would range from some of the costliest, mouth-watering chocolate truffles to the simple yet satisfying sweet-things such as those delectable "choco balls" sold by FoodWorld. There would generally be two of everything, with a few extra ones here and there (Mum and Dad also needed to eat something, right?!). For me personally, it was always very exciting to dive into the shopping bags brought home to find the one that contained the "immediately eatable" baked goods and partition it for everyone and start eating it right away. My love for those choco/rum balls, the croissants, those incredibly rich "Japanese" cakes - all started right there in those shopping bags. Whatever one can say about my Dad, this is an undeniable fact - he knows what his kids like, and he brings that home. Thanks, Dad.

Kill the fatted pork sausages

When my bro went off to college, every time he came home, he was treated like a royal personage on a visit. I didn't feel jealous about it - but I felt the fuss was unwarranted. When I went off to college though, my Mum started something new entirely. Pork sausages. Pork or sausages were nothing new in my house; what was new, though, was that Mum would move heaven and earth to ensure that atleast 1 pack of pork sausages were in the freezer if "Dan is coming home". Sometimes, if my visit was a long one, there would be two packs, plus bacon, ham, salami and so on and so forth. But whatever happened - that one pack of pork sausages would be there in the freezer. What felt better was that this pack was completely at my disposal. I've fried those sausages and devoured them at 7 am in the morning, after jumping off the Nilagiri Express (coming back home from college) at times, and I've patiently waited till 3 in the afternoon to cook them, too. The best part? Mum never mentioned a word such as "I'm doing this for you" or anything. She just would mention that sausages were in the freezer, and that was that. For those of you who've been to a hostel which is nearly 700 km from home for four years, you would know the priceless value of such a simple gesture when you walk into your house (Mind you, I had tonnes of other things going for me at home; the pork sausages was the only factor that was unchanging, ever-present and a cherished memory of coming back home). For this, and all the other stops pulled out when your sons returned home from hostel, thanks Mum.

Understanding the kid in me

Over the years, my Dad and I have had plenty of disagreements - some of which have been extremely heated and unbecoming of us. Most of my frustrated screaming fits were due to me thinking that "Dad doesn't get it" or something along those lines. And it tends to be that the mind thinks that people my own age would understand better, especially my brother Sam. There's one undying memory in my head, though, that's contrary to such notions and it stands out like a beacon in the darkness of such thoughts. I'm guessing I was somewhere between 12-14 years of age when this occurred. I fell totally in love with a song (the first song that I fell for) from a children's cassette - The Amazing Book - called Letter of Love. I loved everything about it, and so I carved the words "Love Letter" on a fat stick that was lying around the room. When my bro found it, he started questioning me with a mischievous look "What's this da? Love letter, huh?!" Without batting an eyelid, my Dad shushed my bro "You guys listen to that song so much, know? Must be from that." I was stunned. Normally, things should have been the other way around with Dad questioning and bro stepping in. There have been many more instances of my Dad fully comprehending and understanding his two sons. But none are so indelibly burned into my memory such as this one - thanks, Dad, for the understanding, insight and wisdom.

Accommodating the kids

Another little known fact in current friend circles: Sam and I, each had our set of plastic (and other material) toys (teddy bear kinds) with which we've spent loads of time playing around. I had my set of non-living friends, and Sam had his. We treated them like people within our own imaginary games. Although Mum seldom joined us in the fun, her full support was with us at all times. She helped us sew tiny pillows and other things for these inanimate people that we kids loved. We eventually grew out of those toys, but I'll fondly remember Mum being the epitome of encouragement and help for our little selves' imaginary world. Thanks, Mum.

Sam: Elder, Better and Bigger

Seriously - how can I go on thanking my parents for the littlest things that matter most without thanking them for my bro sometime?! I can say with full conviction that Sam came into my life on day 1, and has been in it till today. And he has brought with him loads of fun (right from wanting to name me Goliath!), loads of material things (still remember him going for one-day school picnics and buying me some tiny knick-knack or the other even then), loads of fights (verbal, physical, egoistic, electronic, long-distance...), tonnes of knowledge (he's a walking, talking Encyclopaedia), plenty of chances for me to take a dig at him (getting that sly blush from him is a super reward) and of course, multitudinous instances (from camps, retreats and life itself) for me to learn that my elder brother is better and bigger in almost everything I'm good at. For all this, and plenty more littlest things that 27 years on this Earth have brought into my life, I just gotter thank my Mum and Dad for my bro Sam. Without their upbringing skills, and their inputs into his life - he wouldn't be the brother that he has been to me. So, thank you Sam, thank you Mum and thank you Dad.

Hurting and loving

You've read my previous two posts about my Dad, about being in the thick of things and about taking care of the emotionally needy, and you know that Dad can take quite a bit. There have been instances when his patience has worn thin (most of these instances were when I was going from 15 till about 21). However, Dad has the capacity to absorb many of the challenging situations that the three of us (Mum, Sam and I) put him through. They way Mum and Dad brought up my bro and me was for us to think and come to decisions/conclusions on our own, and also to run the family as a democracy - this worked well for everyone concerned, except one person - Dad. The decision-making still rested with him, and the three of us would present him with three differing, yet equally valid and strong arguments. We used to do this quite a bit. Reminiscing now, I can see that Dad was unofficially the punching bag - because he offered himself up for that role. He could take the hurt and the pain, cos he had the love and everything else required to make one heckuva Dad. Really, thank you for taking all those "punches", Dad.

Hitting without hurting

A little known fact about Mum. She hates "conditioning" or "scolding" little kids. So when Sam (my bro) and I were kids, and we did something "bad" (which happened quite often, if my memory serves me right) my Mum would try hard to discipline us. I say try because her strongest form of discipline (short of complaining to Dad!) would be to use an inverted comb (a thin, long one) to whack our outstretched palms. Really. At times, it did sting quite a bit; but mostly, this punishment wasn't sufficient for crimes committed. People who've worked with Mum and worked for Mum can tell you simply - Mum is very strict. She would discipline her college students who bunked college for Ministry, though her heart was for Ministry. That being the extent of her disciplining, having her mete out "punishment" to us in the most mildest form possible was something that proved beyond doubt that her disciplining was not without love. I never understood this as a kid - that she provides mild physical punishments because of love; but looking back now, it's pretty clear that her tender heart and immense love is what made us escape multitudes of possible punishments, as kids. Thanks, Mum.

My First Gadget-love

Since 1995, my mum had been going to the UK every year for her Ph. D. in theology. Sam (my bro) and I used to joke around saying that mum had to be told exactly what to buy, but when Dad had gone to the UK in 1988 and Holland in 1992, he just bought stuff - which we both liked straight away. This being the case, my first gadget love was a device Mum bought from the UK. True, Sam helped me scour several pages and pages of the Sony UK website (remember, these were the days of dial-up and www.yahoo.com and VSNL Shell (text-only) Internet connections) and find the exact product I liked - a Sony Walkman WM EX674. It was the costliest walkman at the Sony UK website, retailing for 40 GBP at that time. My mum had to visit plenty of shops before she could find one - apparently, they were discontinued in the UK brick-and-mortar retail stores. She finally did get one - it cost her 78 GBP or something - a whopping expense, considering our family finances. This walkman became my love - I actually took it to school to show it off to a couple friends (Ajay and Santosh). During an intense session of self-examination before our Lord, I was deliberating if I should pick my walkman or my bible as the one thing to pull out of my home in the event of a fire (Hey - bibles can be replaced easily!). This walkman brought sheer awesomeness into my life - at a time when people around me had clunky, bulky walkmans with push buttons, mine was sleek, slim, had electronic buttons, could rewind/forward/skip/repeat songs (on a tape!), had a rectangular rechargeable battery, an external battery pack for a AA battery and was bathed with a metallic blue colour in a matte finish. It provided me hours and hours and hours of company during my days and nights in school and college. It provided hours and hours of entertainment to my friends and my room-mates in college as well. Sadly, when a computer came into my hostel room, the walkman lost its importance. It started being relegated to journeys and travels. I was still using it when I first came to Bangalore in 2006. It lost out soon to the sheer volume of MP3s that a PC can hold. I still have this Walkman. Haven't got the heart to sell it or give it away. It's the most emotion-attached gadget I've owned. Thanks, Mum.

Interested folk can check out the below links for few photos of this lovely device.
http://cdn.kalaydo.de/mmo/9/225/027/59_-142415234.jpg
http://img193.imageshack.us/img193/7469/dsc07076n.jpg
http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/35/dsc07074c.jpg/
http://n2.vatera.hu/photos/f2/3d/cb75_2_big.jpg