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.

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.