Nawab Pataudi

I am woken up by a sms from my father at 1 AM in the morning, the day Pataudi died.

Sms reads -
"Just saw news of Pataudi's death. This looked like a personal bereavement to me since Pataudi and Sobers were the two international cricketers whom I saw from closest range in my life, in the historical test at Eden gardens where second day's play was washed away due huge crowd, which could not get full accommodation.

Both of them were in a black car. As the car approached the gate, I ran fast out line, reached by chance the back side window, tried my best to put my head inside and saw them clearly laughing and talking.
One was black and the other was white, but both were extremely handsome and looked so smart.
Pataudi's death has made me so sad"

My father never fails to surprise me with his emotional connect to people outside the realm of his close relatives.
And being his daughter, am such a fry cry from that. I have never iconised anyone in my life, never held anyone larger than life and attached my happiness or sadness with them.

Its this child like thing in him that makes me love him , even though he drives me mad mostly. I could almost imagine him doing all that, what he wrote in the sms

A bright eyed teenager, he must have been back then

This sms dint make the cricket-lover in me miss anything, but reminded me of our huge bunglaw(back from Britisher's days), back in my home town. The huge terrace, where we all used to accumulate on a pretty winter day. Elders having tea, kids frolicking around, and the small rickety transistor blaring with live cricket commentary and my father and his brothers hooked on to it.

And being able to conjure up that image right now, seems like a privilege to me

Now I am dreading demise of next (rather first on his list) icon in his life, whom he idolized to the extent of fights with my mother. Whose hairstyle he copied in his hay days. And that icon is film actor Dilip Kumar.
Whose pictures and newspaper cuttings of all his achievement are sprawled across an almirah in his bedroom, as if he is our own.

लंगड़ा भूत(One legged ghost)

On a sultry summer day, while the fan made noise as it creaked to provide some comfort and sound of vehicles wheezed past the house in a daze, he was lying in his half sleeved under shirt and telling the same story again

But with added spices, each time

"Then the ghost was caught and split wide open. I put some chilli powder, turmeric, garam masala... in his stomach".
All the Indian spices would go inside then, one by one.
Each time there was increment or change in the ingredients which went inside.

My small brother sat and listened intently while me and my elder sister romped around him on bed...
And even at the age of 6, my child-mind could sense that this is a fake story, created by him and I knew that he continued with the story, without any plot, just to humour us.
And back then, my heart swelled with love for him..not knowing that these were the seeds of a bond which is meant to exist for a lifetime
I still remember his smell from that summer, a father's smell, which I never found in any other man

What makes it so difficult now? To see him in the same light as I saw him as a kid?

My father was never the preacher, teacher kind. I miss that sometimes, whenever I have to choose anything in life, I always know that its just me who has to find that direction for myself.
Papa has always left everything to his kids..
He does not believe in notions of right, wrong..or maybe he is so lost in his own world that he simply doesn't bother.

His knowledge of everything in life is awe-inspiring.
If its palmistry, our house would be inundated with books by "Cheiro"
If its chess, then Anand Vishwanathan, Karpov and Kasparov fill our mini-library
If its science, then stephan king, Issac Asimov
If its philosophy then Krishnamurty and the likes
And for plain fiction its Hermen hesse, Dyotsovesky, Milan Kundera..you name it we have it in our house

People read cos sometimes they want to be abreast with general knowledge, or sometimes to be part of the elite group which talks of intellectual stuff, or for their own use
If I had an ounce of my father's knowledge, I would have moulded it in my favor

But his knowledge is just a thirst, nothing to do with anything I mentioned above. This makes him someone I admire without restraints , despite everything else I dont and cant

He loves kids.

He was always the one to go to, if I wanted to get pampered
Ma dint have much patience with our small misgivings.
If I cut my finger a wee bit, Ma would just ask me to wash with dettol and put a band-aid. But I would go to him cos he showed all the concern in the world and make a huge thing out of any of my inconsequential ailments

If I wanted to buy a dress, I knew my mother would give me stories of how something is out of our budget, so all I had to do was ask papa
He would take me to the shop and without looking at the price tag, would choose the costliest dress for me, budget or no budget
Did he know that he was so much loved then?

When did I stop doing that? Going to him for anything?
Sometimes I feel both of us are punishing each other for our own follies..

Or maybe He has a love for children, which does not reach the realm of elders.

There is this small girl, 8-9 years old, our maid's daughter whom he treats like his own kid
I see her putting her arms around him as I used to, or demanding things with a right as I used to
and I feel a pang in my heart

Maybe I stopped making him so wanted and a father-figure, somewhere down the line, which this small girl still makes him feel
And thats the foundation of a bond between them, which I seem to have lost

Down the line, I must have made me feel alienated from myself

On this father's day, if I have to describe my father it would be these things:

1. A passion for books, never saw in anyone
2. Playing online chess for 6 hours in a day
3. His hiding his glass of drink in most weird places, lest the brigade of women at home jumps on him for having a drink on consecutive days
4. His reading out "Brother Karamazov" to Ma, while I lay beside him, not understanding anything of the book, but just my love and admiration for him multiplying in leaps and bounds

There can be many more such bullet points, but that summer day of my childhood and his brewing up story of लंगड़ा भूत, is etched in my memory and surpasses any and everything else about him

My usual conversations with my father is so weird, that it gives me material to write and laugh about. But all that is post our conversation, not during it at all.

Here is a snippet:

Papa calls - "What are you doing?"
I - "Watching some TV, and you?
Papa - "Oh you are also watching tennis, am watching french open"
I - "Ok. No am watching something else"
Papa - He hardly pays attention to what I say "This Djokovic is such a maniac. His playing is so erratic"

Here I must admit that this is the first time I hear this person's name. My knowledge of tennis is still about Boris Becker, Pete Sampras, Nadal, Federer..and a few others of that league

I - "Who is he?"
Papa - "Come on, he is number 3 seeded"
I - "Oh..I am not aware"
Papa - "Anyone who is interested in tennis would know his name"
I - "But when did I say I am interested?"
Papa - "You have no interest in life!!" - Now his tone is beginning to get belligerent
I - "Come on, tennis is not the only thing to be interested in" - My tone is sounding irritated
Papa - "Then tell me what is your interest in life?" Now his tone is of a school teacher castigating a student
I - "------------"
Papa - "You know na, I have a TV tuner in my PC and thats where I watch all my matches, cos the TV is forever occupied by your mother with her daily soaps?" - Grudging undertone

This piece of information has been shared with me (and all my siblings) nth time and my only reaction can be a sigh!

I - "------------" -
Papa - "Your mother is watching something called X-factor" - sarcastic undertone
I - "So am I"
As usual he pays no attention to what I said

Papa - "Can you believe it, this Djokovic guy is only 24 and is giving hard time to federer who is 29?"
I - "------------" "Here I am trying hard to concentrate on X-Factor results

Papa - "Ohhhhh...what an ACE!!" - He can really shout
I - "Papa, you always call up and talk to yourself. Whats the point? Let me watch what I am watching and you drown yourself in tennis"
"Silly girl!" *hangs up*

Oh , these fathers! Who said men cant be nags?

Man,Woman and Sports

Why do men make it such a grand show about sports?
Why is it such a great thing to be drowned in any kind of sports, than to watch a stupid(As per them) soap or reality show?

Does watching sports make you a Sachin or a Nadal?
NO! You are just getting a vicarious pleasure out of watching something you could not do..or someone you could not become
You probably try to regale in some cherished and much coveted moments of fame, which you never lived..

Why is it that your love of sports has to be applauded and is considered manly..and women's love for movies/chatting/soaps/songs is considered as stupid/un-important and a wash out

So much so that poor women try to feign interest in sports, just to feel one with the men around..they try to exhibit immense interest and take pride in following cricket/tennis or anything which makes them valuable or interesting to men(I know some women who just read up the sports section in newspaper to just show how much they know, without any genuine interest)

Whats with all this sports thing? A bat hitting a ball, or a racket hitting a ball or a human hitting a ball..in the end it boils down to just balls!

I have no qualms in saying that sports does not interest me or possess me. As a teenager I used to watch a lot of it at home, which was primarily because of my father's passion. His child like interest in telling us everything about things he knows, teaching us the rules of various games like tennis, cricket and chess (half of his time is spent now on playing on-line chess), that we had grown fond of it.

But after being on my own I realised I would not switch on ten-sports just cos some vague match between some vague teams is happening. My interests lie more in reading, dancing and writing. And I don't see any one's interest in anything, a parameter of that person's qualities.

I find somone interesting cos of many things apart from these. Even a very well-read person can be a big bore, and vice verse.

Recently I read in some blogs about something called "gender-prototype". It was a post where all women bloggers were having a take on how they do things which makes them less of a woman and more of a man. Some of them were outrageous and irritating to the core.

Anything cant qualify as a "men-special" or "women-special"..and there is no pride in anything bratti-sh, like : - Not knowing how to cook(Though I am not practically great at it but I see it more of a handicap than anything to boast of)

Have you ever read about a man boasting of how he qualifies for gender-prototype and
is so much a woman at heart? I have not!

Football

Ok, so this is actually not a post on FIFA or anything to do with football.
This is a post more about my father.

I have a father who stays awake till 2.30 in the night to watch any sports, and then wakes up at 6 AM, to watch the highlights..and here I am, with not even 5% of interest in any sports.

Though when I was still in college and used to stay with my parents, we all were avid watchers of cricket, even lawn tennis.
Because of him I had learnt the rules of the game and jargon like "deuce" and "advantage".
I had actually started liking the game, maybe cos of his passion and interest (and an equal interest in telling us about it and of all possible ratings of players).

He used to have a big blow-up of Gabriela Sabatini in his room, and he felt that this stunning player resembled me :)

So on Sunday, he called up and was talking to Ma, and here is how the conversation went:

[I over hear Ma saying something about foot ball so I ask her to inquire as to who won]

Ma - "So who won the cup?"
Papa - "What?? The match hasn't started as yet!"
Ma - "Wasn't it supposed to be at 12 in the afternoon?"
Papa - "तुमलोग सबसे बड़े ढक हो... 12 बजे रात को है मैच " (you guys are the biggest dimwits, match starts at 12 in the night)
Ma - "आप हैं ढक" :D (You are a dimwit!)

And we laugh away to glory as he expresses his irritation over our lack of knowledge and interest!

Father's day

Today is father's day.. I wasnt aware of it...I knew its in June but dint know the exact date.
Incidentally I was cleaning up my place and all the junk it held and I came across some of the letters and cards which my father had sent me long back..more than 10 years ago

He had written so many things to me..how he was so proud of me..how he missed me at home and so many other things...
I think I took it all for granted back then..cos I knew I was important to him and his writing all that to me just meant assertion of all the facts that I already knew

But now when I look back...now that our interactions are so less..and our fights so much more..the past means so much to me
To know that there was a point when we were so close...when we could talk about just anything under the sun

I thought of him as the smartest and the brightest father in the world..and I still do.his passion for chess(which made us know of most of the chess moves), cricket, tennis, books, science and so many things made me think there is not a single thing in the world that my father does not know about

And I took him to be a super human..incapable of follies..and I guess I erred there




And now..why has it become so difficult to be the same..why have we become so distant? We just call and talk about inane things...

Sometimes I am left thinking...
Does my father know that his daughter sometimes cries for no reason..that at times she spends her days thinking of past and doesnt want to live in the presnt..

Does he know that this life he brought into the world..isnt happy with the world and the people in this world all the time?

Parents

When I was young I used to be scared of my mom more than my father. She always stood for everything that was right..and my father used to pamper us(or maybe he was too much in his own world to bother about our mischeifs)

We were 4, quite a bunchful for anyone to drive them nuts...so were my poor parents many a times (and other times they were drivng us crazy)


I remember at times when Papa would get sick of my bad behavour, he used to say "I will tell your Ma when she gets back home"..which, to this date, I find very funny. He just could not and did not want to deal with us.

But when it came to academics..I always wanted to do as my father wished..and keeping up to his expectations was always my motive. My smallest accomplishments were complete only when I saw just a gleam in his eyes (he has never been too vocal about his feelings..and so aren't the rest of us)

Now that I have grown up.. I wonder do I think of all that now? Do I wish to be right in my mom's eyes or intelligent for my father..and I am amzed at how things change as you grow

Now all my fears and anxieties "from" them are "towards" them..is it because with each new generation the older generation's thoughts and views become outdated..and what they think does not affect the newer generaiton?

Sometimes my mom looks scared of us..she does not know if she is right anymore..she chooses her words to talk to us..and tries to pamper us all the time...I might not acknowledge it all the time and might get irked by her many times..but in the essence of it..lies a vulnerable woman who does not know if her morals, principles and views hold true anymore

In some novel by milan kundera I read that "the daughter was agitated about something and was vehemently telling this to her father. And her father, more than agreeing/disagreeing with her, was deriving the enegry of youth emnating from her. He felt rejuenated, cos the fact that the younger generation still considered him worthy enough to speak their mind to him, energized him and he felt somehow he belonegd to this new generaiton." So true, yet so pitiable.


We all want to be young forever..and give in to folllies of the youth again, if it was possible..cos youth grants everything..makes everything permissible..

But the stregnth of youth is not to make the older generation look weaker..and if it does, its the duty of the youth to make them feel a part of them

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." ~Elizabeth Stone


So if their hearts are us, outside their bodies, then what makes them different from us...we are what they are..and each of our accomplishments is theirs!

This is to tell you ma and papa..wherver I go...however much I fight with you...you would always be my priority in life...and any love in this world is not comparable to what I feel for you..cos I know you cant love anyone more than you love me!