And its your birthday again...

And it’s your birthday again today. You would have been 62 today.

And the festivals have just passed again this year without you. It’s been 6 years but since you are gone, but your absence is starker now.

And then suddenly, your memories keep bouncing back each day – when mom makes “kalhaare aalu”( potato with tomatoes) as you liked it, or when the mango season arrives, or whenever I see Ahaan relishing non veg food, or when I look at your grandsons playing with each other. Because you would have loved this. But you are not here. And only we – who are left behind - feel that loss. The desolation of experiences without the pleasure of your reaction to them.

And its stands true that when time passes, our memories congeal less into what they truly were, and more into how we wish to recollect them. It is not the dwindling of memory like an old photograph that gets pale with edges curled and tatty but rather, the spurt of a photographic flash, dazzling and brilliant with a flash, the colors too brassy.

The memories offend the heart and the mind because they are just too much to take in and instead of the anguish settling low, it froths up anew at the strangest of times.

And for me, this year is the toughest.

For this is the longest I have stayed with maa after my marriage. And everything in this house reminds me of you – as if you are here. Because had you been here, Ahaan would have dotted on you. Because we would’ve had a family dinner tonight at your favorite restaurant.

Because, coming back home would have relieved my stress completely . You would’ve been both compassionate and impartial. You would’ve had insight and reassurance, for those were two of your greatest gifts. Because you would’ve been proud of me, of my work, of my dreams, of whatever shabby but a good mom that I have grown to be. You would’ve boasted and written down my blog address for everyone who would stand still long enough and doled out my business card to everyone - leaving me mortified.

Because your grandsons would’ve made you cards and drawn you pictures and you would’ve reached for your spectacles, while they climbed on your lap, and you would have loved every moment you looked at all three of them.

Because maa has been very strong and brave -  like she has been her entire life -  but sometimes it is all too much and she seems lost without you. Because no one can fill the void you have left.

Because ultimately you would exasperate us all and we would sigh in frustration and never know how much we would miss your annoying habits when you were gone.

Because like every year – I miss you a lot Papa.

Because I love you – like I always did.

And it’s your birthday again today.

Happy Birthday, Papa

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RIP Amma

Almighty saw you getting exhausted and a treatment was not to be
So he placed his arms around you and said "come to me"
With teary eyes we saw you and watched you pass away
even though we loved you greatly, we failed to make you stay
A heart of gold stopped beating, caring hands at rest..
He shattered our hearts to show to us he only takes the best..

My Amma – My grandma, died just a few days after I wrote my last post. Although, it’s a distressing time for me and my family, nonetheless I know positively that we never lose our loved ones, even to bereavement. They go on being a part of your life, thoughts and choices we make. Their love leaves an ineradicable impression in our memories and our lives. We discover peace in knowing that our lives have been enhanced by having shared their love.

Rest in Peace – Amma.

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One More Star Up In The Sky

It all begins with the recalling a day.

And I sit down to inscribe, tranquilly on the exterior, but emotionally and saddened on the interior, in the anticipation of not forgetting an iota, not skipping any moment of detail or disclosure that came with this unbelievably heartbreaking and deplorable day – 17th of November 2008.

It’s been a year since you’re gone but it just feels like yesterday, when I called to talk to you only to find out that you were no more.
Tonight, when I look up at the stars, I do not consider them as stars. I look at them as porch lights, welcoming you safely in your dwelling .I have this sense that there's one extra star up in the sky tonight. And although it's at a far-flung distance, its brilliance and affection still reach us here to make the nighttime a little less shadowy, a little less gloomy.

Thinking of you with Love and Fond Memories, Papa.

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Light a lamp, dismiss the gloom

As the countdown to Diwali began, my social networking accounts beamed up like a miraculous city, which had been turned on by an invisible hand. My apartment building lit up luminously with neon lights and various beautifully done rangolis and of oil-lit earthen lamps enclosed patios and ramparts, staircase and yards of apartments.

This was the first time however, when my heart refused to welcome Diwali – A festival I have always keenly looked forward to for this year Diwali bought many memories. The most memorable memoirs of Diwali I have are the ones spent during my early days. That’s when my father got everything that could be called new – clothes, Laxmi Ganesh idols, mitahis, crackers et al. That was then. This year, however when I lived through the dawn of Diwali , I couldn’t avoid but recall persistently the dialogue I had with my father on the eve of Diwali few years back. While conversing about the various Indian festivals and their probable genesis, he also shared his views about the Diwali. He said, "Like a tiny lamp that brightens its tiny environs, a strip of tiny lamps brightens larger environs. Likewise an individual can brighten his environs; while an organized act - allegory to several lamps organized in rows - can brighten up the cosmos."

Last year’s Diwali was special for me – as it was my first after marriage and also because it was the first time that my father sent me mitahis. Given that I had never been away from my house before that on any of my Diwalis. My father sent me Diwali mithais and card with a pack of floating candles to light up my house, from across the seven seas. It was the first time ever. He also sent me a note which read “Hope this finds you both in pink of health. Sorry Manasi, couldn’t send you the guavas (he knows my love for UP ke amrood ) along due to packing problems. Anyways, next time. Happy Diwali. Enjoy it. Tons of Love – Papa”.

It’s been a year since he left us and it’s been hard for us (my mother, sister and me especially) as it all happened a few days after Diwali. All this while, I kept wondering what that implied. But now I feel it means something…. In its symbolism, Diwali advocates people to conquer their fears and personality imperfections that keep us from gratifying our actual potential. So to say, it enlightens us to chase off the shadows that clouds all of our spirits. So as my mom, sister and I recall all the Diwalis in the past and the ones ahead of us, and we endeavor to be what my father worked his whole life to offer us the prospect to be: sturdy women with vivid futures. The fact is that life has to move on and although now and then it can be insufferably agonizing and a sluggish progression, yet we must not give up hope and embrace joys where we get them. I have often heard the cliché about time being the biggest healer and I truly expect it to be true.

Happy Diwali to you Papa, still waiting for the sweets this year!

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On The First Man in My Life

It is astounding how much can transform in just about a year... how superficially everything can appear to be precisely the same, but actually nothing will ever be the same ever again. Most of the days glide by overlooked, flowing from one into another somewhat impeccably and we barely bear them in mind after they have gone by. That’s not the case with birthdays though. Birthdays are unique: they are an occasion to rejoice, but also to revive the memories of the year gone by. We weigh up the events of the past year, or several years that might have passed, and consider in reality living in the instant and rejoicing the day. These days can be blissful; seldom perfidious. You can't be in command of a birthday; they arrive on a specific schedule – whether you are prepared or not, birthday coming ahead. I woke up this morning to the consciousness that today is my father's birthday. And certainly, all of the reminiscences - years of recollections – began to downpour.
Some people demonstrate certain traits that help them be noticeable from the rest of the crowd. When it comes to my father- it was his sanguinity. He might've undergone self doubt during a phase of his life but then who doesn’t? It was his faith that actually helped him sail through the most difficult stage of his life through which he witnessed biggest cataclysm in his private and professional life. He stood like a rock through all his dilemmas. At the age of 56, when many would unwind and muse over about the life they've spent, I've seen my father revive his life all over again. And what’s special was that even through the troubled and testing times he has had, he in no way lost his wittiness. Righteous, amusing and amiable - in the present day my father stands elevated before me as my life's supreme motivation. And ever since I have walked this earth, I've yet to stumble upon anyone who can match up to my father - my hero!
My father is far away from us today. As I sit here alone, I recall all the memoirs of my father and the days spent with him. I am recalling several birthday dinners as he loved inviting people over for his own birthday. Of all the cakes purchased secretly from limited pocket money, from all the nights I use to stay up late, as a child, just to have a glimpse of him, of all the hugs that gave me comfort, of all the beautiful letters he wrote to me to ease my heartaches, I remember it all today. I am not even distantly 'recovered' from this loss in my life. However, I have stopped being gloomy over His permanent absence now. I know he is watching me from among the stars and his eyes gleam with shine when he watches me smile.
Time is drifting ahead; the seasons are altering as per calendar, festivals come and go, birthdays come and go. But life goes on; I remember you Papa.
Happy birthday Papa

Thank You for a life span of Love. Although life has stopped us from seeing each other, you’re still and will always be as much a component of my life as ever, Papa . . . and I love you — more than ever. Through easy and turbulent waters, you're my source of faith, happiness and comfort. Did I ever tell you that your love, like a compass, for eternity leads me home?

As it is said
"Anyone can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a dad."- Unknown

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