How big were you woman?

"Are you her son sir"? "Oh my God! Sir, that woman was something else. She was god. Her smile, that can cure people"

I randomly met a gentleman in a shop nearby. Since I have recently moved into the town I grew up, after many years, one of my hobbies is to randomly walk into a new shop and drink or eat something. My motor mouth always ends up having conversations, and it invariably turns toward the mom. My great mom! Sometimes, I show off; More often the conversation steers from "Where do you live", to "Oh that hospital had a great doctor", and then shyly I tell them, she was my mother. 

As we were having the conversation, the man's wife entered. Sir, that woman was a god! I came for her funeral and it took me one whole month to come out of it. In our village, everyone just has such high regard for her. If only......I knew where the conversation was headed. I had to stop there. 

My mom had the advantage of being an OGcian. That means families, especially women go to her at some of the most vulnerable periods of their life. Also, some of the happiest moments of their lives are celebrated when she is around. Yet, for a town to celebrate a woman who lived just 25 years of her life in the town is incredible. 

I think I'm now beginning to enjoy conversations where Amma is exalted. This has not happened once or twice. It happens every time. Everywhere I go. My trainer in the gym. The barber. The neighbour next door. My grocer. For a long time, I'm someone who gets embarrassed at being introduced as the son of the doctor. Now, not only am I enjoying the adulation, but also reaping the benefits and the perks of being born to her. 

The dad and I are the show off's. We pride ourselves on being of some influence on someone. Then there was this woman. Quiet. Shy. Petite. Pantophobic (afraid of everything) Never knew the world. Never crossed a road on her own. Never have driven a vehicle. Never read a book. 

Yet there is a small yet buzzing town out there in the world that has her in its hearts. I'm not sure how many more stories are hidden in her tomb. Humbling! 

How big were you actually, woman? 

The wonder on his face!

The crying stops abruptly. The eyes come out of its socket like it was never meant to be there. The never to be seen neck carrying the heavy head keeps turning 180' in both directions. Karun, my 6-month-old is seeing the world! No, not for the first time. Every time, when we step out of the house. Every single time. 'Wonder' written on his face. 

So I decided to get into his brain and see the wonder the world is, through his eyes! 

So where do I start? 

Step out and see the huge tree. The leaves are green and beautiful. But does his brain comprehend colour and size? I mean, how will he know the difference between green and yellow? What will big and small mean? Are the plants big? Are trees big? Is an elephant big? Or is the goat big? 

When something moves, his eyes widen! How does the brain understand movement? For example, one day I saw a small skink (பாம்பு ராணி ) move around in my backyard. My adult brain immediately said, skinks aren't harmful; It is just going from one hiding place to another. I just ensured it doesn't enter the home. Now, how does a skink moving around register in Karuns' brain? I'm sure the first time he sees one, there will just be the sense of wonder! But why exactly does it appear wonderful? Isn't it just an object moving? Can sheer movement inspire wonder? 

The other day, there was a peacock at my home. As beautiful as a peacock dance, it sings horribly! The sound was piercing my irritated ears. Yet for Karun, the sound meant something. It meant something he hadn't heard before! He doesn't know it is the peacock. But every time the peacock sings, or tries to imitate the cuckoo as my brother puts it, Karun gets excited. The wonder on his face comes back! 

Ah, the wonderful world! Where did I lose the wonder of it all? Does monotony stain the brain so much that it has started to rust? Is boredom a by-product of the loss of wonder? Can I remove the rust off my wonder genes and make my life more interesting? 

The questions my brain throws at me on a Friday night! 

RIP Mama, Thank you for your life!

I came back home. But the heart and mind were still there. In the place where we had laid him to rest yesterday.  My mama(Mothers brother) went away to glory two days ago. 

As a young boy growing up, a mustache was a fascination! Mama had the best of it all. That was it. I decided then. I was going to be that man. That man with a big mustache. I was in awe of the man. 

He sat in the center of the living room. The home seemed to be revolving around him. He bought home 

food. He took people around on his motorbike. And drove the car. Everyone called him for everything. He always had an answer. I was perhaps ten then. May be even younger. My childhood fascination for the man grew. 

As life became more complicated heroes changed. The way I saw him changed too. Mama never changed though! He was just doing his role. Day in and day out. The quiet, unassuming role, of being the protector of the family. He never was the center of attraction. Didn't even want to be one. Did not speak the loudest. Did not have the final word. As we laughed out loud, he quietly smiled. He was the guardian angel. 

As I think of mama, the analogy that comes to my mind is that of the compound wall! The wall protects the family. Most days, we don't even notice the wall. It just stands there. We notice them only when there is a hole and a thief enters. Mama was that! He just stood there and protected. His sisters. His daughters. And his great wife. Never once did the compound wall complain of the sun beating down or the rain and the floods. Like a rock, he stood. For the family. And those around! 

As I finished the last paragraph, I thought of the simplicity of the analogy and wondered whether it is even right to compare a life so beautifully lived to a set of simple stones! Yet, simplicity is what made the man so beautiful and so I decided not to edit the paragraph. 

He was my godfather! He signed my wedding register. As we lifted him up and lowered him down into the grave, I spelled a thank you prayer for everything he had been to me. To us. To everyone around. No, he didn't change our lives. We lived our own lives, the way we wanted our lives to be, coz of him. 

For he lived his life, for me! For us! 

RIP Mama;  Thank you. Till we meet again, good bye! 

Random reflections on my Liberian trip!

If you grow up in a devout Christian household like mine, chances are you would have chanced upon a book about the missionary to Africa Dr. David Livingstone. The famous statement "Dr.Livingstone, I presume" still echoes in my ears. Sadly, that was my only African connection till 2 weeks ago. Africa, the continent of mystique and mystery; of dense forests and rough terrain; of innumerable people with thousands of dialects; of slave labors and diamonds. Ah, the innumerable stories we have all heard about it. 

As my flight landed in Nairobi, Kenya with all those primitive, childlike yesteryear thoughts I got off. Only to be surprised. High-flying expressways and swanky new malls welcomed me to the city. The proud Kenyan friend reiterated the fact that her country is among the most developed in the continent, and among the fastest growing in the world. After a few days of enjoying the Kenyan hospitality, I landed in Liberia. A western African country off the coast of the South Atlantic ocean. 

The next two weeks were spent in this beautiful country and more so in a beautiful compound right across the beach. This is what I woke up to every day. 

Yet, the country was very different!  As a student of International Development, this country made me think deeply, and here are a few of my brain's random scribblings.

At the outset there was poverty! Evident and on the face. Life had not been easy for the people. They had faced civil war and by the time the war came to an end after 14 long years, Ebola came about, and another few years of complete closure ensued. 

A generation or two has not seen the schools! How can a country grow if there is a young population without education? Can any country at all grow without concentrating on the education of its populace? Is education the be-all and end-all of growth and development? Can learning and thinking skills be taught apart from the schooling structures to fast-track development? The questions that thronged my mind were many. 

The roads were pathetic, to say the least. The less said the better about other infrastructure. Someone said they have 75% unemployment. Agriculture hadn't yielded desired results. Healthcare is abysmal. Corruption was rampant. Where do we even start, if there has to be some development in the life of the people, was a question I constantly asked myself! 

As I was typing this a feeling of helplessness swamped me! Sadly, life is not fair. Amidst the cacophony of noises in my mind, I heard a shrill clear sound. "Sir, food"! It was the air hostess. "Vegetarian for you", she continued. But I eat non-vegetarian, I protested. "Sorry sir, but we have only beef". It is okay ma'am, I eat beef, I said. "Are you sure sir?" Sure, please give. She gave me the beef meal and left me to my thoughts and beef. I was still lost in my thoughts, with the beef meal in my hands, when a minute or two later she came back again. "Sir, that one is a 'beeeeef', you got me well, right". I sheepishly smiled back.

 "India beckons!"

Friendships and influences!

In a lonely room, in a corner of the world that didn't exist in my vocabulary till the last year, I sit and ponder on 'friendship'; Well, today being friendship day, I guess there aren't many better topics to contemplate and muse about. 

The wifey once said this to me, and I have often thought about it; "You have the remarkable ability to talk to different people differently"; Was it a compliment? Perhaps, a left-handed one! but I seriously think it has to do with growing up with multiple friends and trying and learning to live from each of them. 

So I decided to do an exercise and write the names of all the friends who at various points in time have been an influence on you. Did friends influence me? Well, here is an example! 

One rainy day in Delhi, 'M' and I decided to do dinner together. I don't remember whether I came late or how this topic 'time' came about in our conversation. She took a class on how it is important to respect time! That day I promised myself to respect time, mine, and everybody else's. This was just one example to show that most of our lives have been influenced by different people. Of course, this is such a trivial thing; and surely my parents have insisted on the importance of time at various points in life but this blog is to talk about friendships and influences. 

As I started to think, the list became bigger! Innumerable people; Numerous friends. Some crossed by life. A few ran the mile. Some still juggle along. Every one of them has been an influence on life. At that point in time, something I did had their mark on me. 

I think about all of them today! Those who stayed long, and those who left the course. 

As the wifey said, I have learnt from all of them. To live and to talk and to walk and to love and more importantly to adapt. My life would have been a lot less worth living but for them, the friends. 

Do you have friends who influenced you? Has your life changed for the better because of friendships? Think about them today! thank god for them. Say a prayer of blessing on them. 

Happy friendship day!

Amma's eighth-anniversary musings!

I have often asked myself the question, whether people from heaven watch the drama unraveling on earth? If so, they could never be happy! how can someone be happy looking at the trouble their wards are going through in this wicked world of ours? But heavens are supposed to be happy places, right? 

Today, eight years ago, Amma passed away to glory! So was she watching over us, and of all people, 'me', during these times? For, her greatest grouse at the time of her moving on was her son hadn't settled down the way neither she nor the son wanted to be. 

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in the outskirts of Nairobi, Kenya and from here I'm onto Monrovia, Liberia. Work is taking me to the remotest corners of the earth and I'm grateful for the job I do now and have actually been doing in the last few years, for God had been incredibly kind, in giving me great opportunities to learn and to grow in the field I had chosen for myself. I'm truly happy and contented! 

One fine evening in Munnar on a long walk, with hands on her shoulders, I told my mom, that I was not happy with what I was doing then. The corporate life I had chosen then, made no sense to me. The world said I am being foolish to resign. Everyone around said I'm risking my career. I know my dad didn't bother much about all that, for he was crazy himself. But it was my mother's statement that day that made me take the final decision. She said, "Do whatever keeps you happy"! 

I don't think I understood the profundity of her statement as much as I do now! For if she hadn't made that statement, I don't know whether I would have dared the adventures life had taken me through. 

Ma, if you are looking from up above the skies, do turn your glance to the African continent; There in a small guest room someone will be furiously typing at the computer at this random hour. That is your son. Your precious son is happy and satisfied and in fact, doing really well in life! 

By the way ma, did you look at my son? He has stolen all your smile genes! 

Fatherhood of man!

How does it feel to be a father, Sam? The question was repeated for the umpteenth time; As I joined back work today after what had been a crazy week and a half, I took time to gather my thoughts together to answer that question. How does it feel to be a father? 

It surely does feel a little nervous! As someone who had been extremely independent, a little too distracted, and surely as someone who could never fit into the societal box, it really feels nervous to be holding a child with the responsibility of guiding it through this wild vile world. How do you teach him to do 'X' without him learning to be 'Y'? How does it work, for someone as arrogant as I'm, to teach a young kid humility and empathy? Won't your child look at you and look at the insecurity? Would he learn to say 'Please' and 'sorry' and 'Thanks', rather than learn from the world of toxic masculinity? Ah, the nervous questions the mind throws at you! 

How does it feel to be a father? It surely feels surreal. I had always been good with children. Always! The niece I loved the most, loved me the most when she was a toddler. Every time 'G' called me 'tham thittha' (sam chitha), I felt loved. When we ran around playing 'catch-me', it felt natural. Yet, this feels bizarre as the helpless, small kid lying on his back and rolling his eyes all the time, somehow had to call me the father and love me! Perhaps, with time the sense of love and wonder will take over. But for now, Surreal is the word. 

It surely feels exciting! As someone who relishes new challenges, novel ideas, and fresh learnings, what better field than fatherhood to learn and experiment😜

It also feels a little complete! I have been an ardent advocate of being complete in oneself. Whatever that means, I sincerely believe every individual is and should be complete in themselves. As much as I think my previous lines have been real and true, fatherhood does bring a 'completed' feeling to life.  

So, how does fatherhood feel? 

I know it has only been a precious few days and I have a long way to go. Yet, In a nutshell, the arrogance of thinking I know the world all too well has been put in its place. I do feel like being at the jumping-off point of a 'Roller-Coster'. I'm all buckled up and ready. A little nervous. Surreal. Happy. Complete. And surely excited.