If that one wish came true

Many a times, one hears a question :  What is that one wish you would want to come true ?  

My one wish.... I want Rota back.  

It's for me, my happiness, my joy, for getting me back my life.  It's four months and two days since he left, and I have been counting days, weeks and it has turned into months.  He left a gaping hole in my heart and I feel it every morning I wake up, every night when it's time to go to sleep and every moment in between.  A year of living 18+ hours of my life, happily with him cannot be filled by anything else.  

First thing in the morning, I would walk to the door to see him.  Same at night, just before going to sleep. Most nights, when we wake up, we would go check on him.  He barks and we would go to back him up; not that he need any from us.  He was bold and gutsy, protective enough to kill. 

During the day, not more than half an hour could go by without looking at him, talking to him, cuddling up with him or playing with him.  Sometimes, fighting with him too.  His soft snore was both a comfort and lullaby.  If I did not notice him, then he would get me to... a nudge, a poke, a pat with his hands, my books would be pulled down, some paper on a table taken, a coconut missing, a pen in his mouth, something.  Or he would bring his bedsheet to me and rip it.  Indicative of him telling me, comeon, lets have some fun.  At my worst, he was with me every minute, refusing to leave even at night.  There are days I have woken up, turned and looked to have him looking back at me with concern.  He was never far away from me in every way.

So, today, as I live bereft of him, his touch, his smile, his naughtiness, his thoughtfulness, his care, I am just a shell of myself.  Without that person who made me smile, laugh and made me beautiful, I feel a deep hole, never ending.  I feel an anger with myself for all those moments I couldn't spend with him, of the times I disciplined him, of telling him 'No' when he asked for something, of not been able to take him on rides as much as he wanted, for not having done more for him and with him.  I am angry with God for not giving him a life as long as a human beings.  I am angry with God for taking away my son, my soul mate, my best friend.  

So, if God were to grant me a wish, my wish, my one and only wish, it would be, 'Give me my Rota back forever'.  I know, it is something not possible.  Not because God can't.  Because, what the heart wants has no rhyme or reason.  For the heart wants Rota.  Anyone who knew Rota would say, if God has Rota with him, there is no chance of Him parting with Rota.  That was how much Rota can love you.  Even if you don't return any of it.  

The few pictures and videos of him is a blessing.  Watching them over and over again makes me relive those moments, magical moments.  After wishing every day, every week and every month for Rota to come back, now I have started wishing that I meet him just once.  Yes, I have told him a thousand times that I love him and he is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.  Still, I would love to hold him once, kiss him, cuddle up with him and tell him that nothing, nothing on this earth can stop me from loving him, wanting him in my life and that I look forward to the day I can join him.  What would I not do to see that happy trot, that glint of naughtiness in his eyes, that look of understanding.  What would I not do to be hugged, to be licked.  

If he knew this, he would be cross with me.  Of course he knew I didn't need lessons in getting work done, in managing and taking care of myself.  He knew I was a force to reckon with if situation required.  In the time he was with us, he tried teaching me a few things I was not so good at - just live life, be adventurous, be happy, live in the moment, don't fret, don't be upset, just laugh, have fun and enjoy life.  I am such a poor student.  With him around, it was easy to learn and follow his principles.  Now, every time I falter, I remember the teaching but find it difficult without him to lead and show the way to do it.  He could make me let go, of many things that upset me.  He is the only reason I could challenge the challenges life threw at me.  For I knew, at the end of the day, all said and done, there was this one person waiting for me with open arms to love and accept me as I am.  No judgment, no questions, no complaints, no hard feelings and tell me that everything is okay.  He helped me be kind, see reason where there was none.  Many a human being will ask me how a dog could convey all this.  For that, you should have met Rota and lived with him.  You would then know.  Rather, meet any person who has really lived with a dog, and they will tell you.

So, I live with that one wish.  To meet him, once more.  

Would we sterilize our kids ?

A roughly six to eight month old pup was found two weeks back, next to our neighbour's gate, shivering in the rain. He was infested with ticks, a torn ear and just bones. When calling animal rescue and trying to secure the pup for five days did not work, we decided to feed the pup and save it from starving. Over the last week, the tick infestation has reduced and the ear is healing. However, the pup's fear of humans continue and he doesn't come anywhere near us which is alien to us dog lovers. Today morning, the pup came close and it was then that I saw that he had been neutered, sterilized. A six month old child, baby neutered. What are the effects of this on his childhood ? What are the repercussions of this on his life ? Doesn't he have a right to an equal life ? Doesn't he have the right to enjoy the joy of fatherhood ? Wouldn't euthanizing him have been better ?

The sterilization programme of adults in India carried out in the 70s as a method of population control left a deep scar on more than one generation and is still a scar on the national psyche. However, we are ready to do sterilization of not just dogs but their children. In a fair world, where humans are on the same scale as any other being, I believe nature, mother earth will say this is worse than genocide.

I have had this argument before with people and they thought otherwise. I still have this question : Would you sterilize yourself before marriage, atleast after having one kid ? Would you sterilize your grown up children, leave alone kids ? In a nation of one billion plus human beings, what is the ratio of dogs/cats we have ? Who is responsible ? I know, hard questions - no answers. Dogs are a problem, cats are a problem, birds are pests, elephants are a problem, tigers are a danger, leopards are invading our space, insects are pests, everything except human beings are a problem, according to the most invasive and dangerous species called 'homo sapiens'. Yes, these questions are a problem, but if we have a moral compass, these questions would arise.

I was standing there left stunned. I couldn't move when I realized that the pup had been sterilized. I understood perfectly the deep distrust that little pup has for all humans. We have scarred him for life.

Ring in the Old

 When doing construction work in the house, one important factor is reuse of existing items.  Be it plumbing, electrical or material.  A practice I am sure, I learnt from my dad.  If there is work to be done, my dad would take out existing plumbing/electrical items and check before giving the go ahead to buy new material.  In the recent years, he said most of them, new age workers looked down upon reuse of items.  His refrain, 'why would I waste my money rebuying existing stuff, and then where will this buying new get us except just generating more waste'.  

We as a culture in India were brought up to reuse and thereby minimize waste and inturn be environment friendly.   It started from when children were born.  New born children were dressed in already worn clothes, generally of the mother's or of a close family member.  Books and clothes were handed down from one's elder siblings or cousins or friends. School uniforms, belt, shoes among other things were usually hand me downs. Stationery like crayons and colour pencils too.  The geometry box is a classic example as were rafters in engineering.  As one grew older, elder siblings or mom's sarees and brother's or dad's watches and shirts.  Wearing granny's and mom's old silk sarees was a matter of pride.  During marriage, family heirloom was important.  Jewellery handed down was a treasure.  Same with head gears and other adornments like watches and bracelets that boys wore.  The dowry (not a supporter) would have antiques handed down.  Jewellery as well as silver, brass and copper vessels as were customs of the family.  Reuse of items was ingrained in our culture.  

That has changed today.  Parents buy everything new for their kids, every year.  From books, uniforms, bags to stationery, tiffin boxes and water bottles.  It is either not to make their kids feel bad, or for fear of themselves or their kids being mocked.  In today's age, reusing items or using old ones are taken as a sign of penury or being miserly.  

I've had my share of run ins.  The furniture at home is a point.  Our cupboards, book shelves, chests, tables and chairs are all old pieces.  Made of teak and rosewood, they of course have seen better days.  A little work, some polish and they shine.  For me, the point that they are made from trees that lived before my time and hand crafted makes a personal connection.  While there are some who admire the antique pieces I have sourced over the years, there are those who walk in and say, 'Oh, you don't have a built-in wardrobe.  Why don't you give away the old cupboard and make built in bookshelves.  All of us at home, parents and siblings love old wood and stone work.  My parents appreciated and inculcated in us the beauty and skill of craftsmen gone by and it has rubbed in.  Same is the case when interacting with plumbers/electricians and other workers.  One of the common comments I hear is, 'Oh, you are trying to save on cost.  You don't want to spend money.' They want to us to buy new material fresh out of a shop instead of using new material bought and left over from last time or removed and in good shape.  Of course I know reuse means maybe shorter life span but am ok with the tradeoff if material is good.  It is on very rare occasions that one finds workers selling you the old stuff instead of buying new, like the guy who came to rectify the fridge.  He told us that newer fridges were flimsy and to hold on to the old one.  When it broke down twice in three months in peak summer and laid waste to all the stored food we bought a new one but realized that the fridge repairman was right about what he said.

It is sad that many people throwaway old woodwork in exchange for plywood and laminated things.  They throw away old handmade silver, brass and copper to buy new machine made ones.  Old heirloom jewellery is melted to make new designs. We complain of the west being very materialistic and showy.  The truth is we are on the way there, whereas they are doing the opposite.

During my days in Italy and US, I have found so many weekend and yard sales where all kind of things at home are put for sale.  Many people buy them and either clean, polish and use or refurbish them to suit their taste.  I found that besides furniture, electrical, electronics, toys and other home items, old crockery and jewellery was something that people bought and treasured.  All this when Home Depot and Amazon were just a click away.  At New York, we went into Christie's, the famous auction house to have a look.  We saw beautiful old pieces, furniture, crockery and jewellery which had the craftsmen's identify in the form of person's name or company name as well as year of making.  And many of these items were auctioned at high prices.  In India, somehow, the craftsmens identity and year of make was never recorded as items were mostly commissioned.  So, the antiquity of items was never recorded which is sad.  

When newer cultures and lands are holding on to their treasures, and making it a habit, why are we throwing it all away.  Why are we reluctant to reuse old beautiful pieces and ready to buy the newage machine cut ones.  Same with preserving old houses.  Trichy had old houses and huge bungalows.  Cycling was a joy partly because I got to see the beautiful houses.  Same was the case when I came to Coimbatore in 2000.  Today, the number of old houses and bungalows has dwindled down to make way to dead pan flats.  While flats are good in terms of conserving land usage and affordable housing, it is time we thought of preserving the architecture and thereby the personality of our towns and cities through its heritage homes and buildings.  Otherwise, we will all start looking the same and loose our heritage and culture. 

I hit the refresh button on life.

It is nearly a year since Corona started ruling our lives.  However, mine was totally re-evaluated since Jan, 2020.  A lot has happened in this short time.  My 'rock', the man I have always tried to live up to, the one person on earth whose principles I have followed, the man who has faced so many battles in life and come out stronger, the man who taught me by example how to stand up after a fall, the man I love and looked upto, fell ill.  He had a stroke and suffered paralysis of the right side of his body.  It impaired his movement and speech.  After having recovered totally from a stroke twenty years ago, we hoped that this time too he would beat it.  However, age is not on his side.  A month in hospital, his improvement was still slow.  During his time at the ICU, in his condition, he saw patients die right next to him. Despite the high risk of aspiration, he came home wanting not to stay in the hospital.   

He battled hard and got back to walking and eating by himself when the universe decided to battle out again with him.  This time harder.  May end, he had another stroke which left him at square one, actually even worse.  All the hard work of five months went wrought.  

We drive down to Chennai at the peak of Covid, June beginning, fearing the worst. For two weeks, seeing him in that state,  just asleep, crying in pain through the night, not knowing if he recognized us, made me question my existence, my life, the purpose of it all.  Me, never one to hold his hands, held his, not ready to let go.  Hoping all my energy would flow to him.  All the money in the world couldn't help us, his family, get him the medical aid he needed, he deserved.  What use of all the education, of all the wealth, when none of it can help your most loved one.  That feeling of desperation is unexplainable.

When news of another lockdown in Chennai came in, I knew I would have to get back to Coimbatore, and maybe not see him ever again.  I have never felt fear like that ever before in my 47 years of existence.  The worst I had gone through before in my life didn't even come close.   It is unexplainable.  Knowing my dad was there no matter what happens made me bold, strong, confident, basically the person I am.  Close to loosing that was loosing myself, my existence and my being.  I realized the root of my existence that day morning, the day before I left Chennai.  The fact that the universe was tugging at those roots was scary.  I don't remember the rest of June at all today.  All I have kept asking from Jan to date is 'Why ?' Why him ?

My dad and I have had a unique relationship, looking back.  While he expected the world of me, I expected the heavens of him.  He didn't bring me up less because I was a girl.  As the eldest, he expected me to be bold and go get things done by myself.  I could never go back crying to him.  He would say, handle it and learn from it.  I had a thousand whys for him, which sometimes got on his nerves.  I wondered how he could spring malayalam poetry learnt during school with such ease.  He remembered recipes from his early childhood that he had seen women cook.  The dishes he made did taste unique, especially his panchamritham.  He could belt out lyrics of tamil and malayalam songs, some so old.  He taught me business, accounts, took me to the Sales Tax office, banks and showed me every thing needed to run it.  He taught me whatever knowledge I have of carpentry, electrical, plumbing, civil, looking after dogs and cows and every other thing in this world.  He brought back to life, two cows who were bone and skin and couldn't lift their heads after a bout of foot and mouth disease, who doctors said wouldn't survive, to up and running in six months.  Love, confidence, commitment and perseverance and above all the belief in the goodness of animals, the universe and Krishna.

'You should learn and know everything.  Nothing is impossible if you try hard enough', is his mantra.  He follows that mantra.  He loves life and lives every moment and expected me to do the same.  I have fought tough with him and loved him as much, though I never said so.  Same with him, I guess. Always, subtle, it is on very very rare occasions that I have seen it straight.  Those were moments of high.  

The 'Why ? Why him ?' question continues.  It has made me wonder the purpose of life, why we are here, to what end this run after work, making money, acquiring possessions when at the end, it is time to enjoy the fruits of one's work, the body already ravished by the passage of time, by wear and tear, by the pressure of the earlier years, starts giving away, denying one the right to a decent life and peaceful death.  By coincidence, around the same time, I heard the exact same thing told by the Dalai Lama.

With help from the better half and my dog, and with the life lesson of my dad to get back on my feet, I picked the pieces of myself, still disjoint and continued working.  As any good teacher knows, from the time you enter class to the time it ends, time stands still.  It is a bubble where you put in everything to delivering the knowledge you have acquired over the years, where you pass on the knowledge gifted to you by the universe to others for the goodness of mankind.    

However, something had changed, both at the official level and teaching level.  I have never taken leave except when I was sick.  The longest leave I had taken was early in my career when my dad had a bypass surgery.  So, the response I got for my first leave request in January took me by surprise.  We as a family took shifts to be in hospital.  The time in front of the ICU was a lesson on the fragility of life.  In the run for many things in life, I realized, I had missed out on many moments with my dad.  All I wanted to do was to be with my dad through the recovery.  I came to Coimbatore to set things at home for Arun and Rota, apply for leave and go back.  I went to work to find that Arun was taking my class, stretching himself to limits and all other work pending.  It took late hours to finish paper work.  What two faculty should be doing, I did all alone.  I nearly said enough.  I went back for few days in March to be with dad.  With Corona cases starting, we knew it was just a matter of time before lockdown would be announced. The second time around, in June, at the peak of Corona pandemic, when I sat next to my dad, lying still in bed, and answering queries on Whatsapp despite informing of emergency, my perception changed.  When my health took a beating in the months after, and there was no way I could handover classes and office work to take leave and recuperate, I realized that this was not worth it.  When a parent called up and asked why students were left free after semester had completed when other courses were given project, I didn't say I was sick and there was no other faculty to take classes and stop.  I started projects the next day because I was taught by the best to stand up.  I wasn't a bonded labourer but the feeling was somewhat close. 

There I was, unable to walk about or sit for more than half an hour, trying my best to take class and do it well. I started taking medications but not much effect.  Going to a hospital was not a safe option.  Dragged through for months.    

Online classes were different and enlightening as well.  I saw things which maybe happened before but I had not noticed.  When there was no response after class, silence from the other side for questions, seeing unwarranted smirks and comments, receiving weird messages on Whatsapp made me re-evaluate the job I was doing.  Doubting if I was not upto taking class, I recorded my classes to playback, but I made good sense with the topics.  I had my better half listen to my class too.  The content was fine.  So, what was different ?

In 2018, my dad had asked me if the job I did was worth it ?  It was during the time I had taken medical leave for a few days and he had had come home to be with me hoping I would be at home taking rest.  The numerous work calls and seeing me exhausted after trying to convince people to finish work despite being sick got him upset.  I was a workaholic.  I loved my job.   I always have aimed for perfection.  A crime today, yes.  Thus, I never finished my job when the last bell rang.  I used to read every word of every assignment and lab submission, read every line in answer sheets and write comments including spelling and grammar.  Which meant it took forever for me to finish work.  Still I loved doing it because I strongly believed that is the right way.  I just overlooked when most students in class would just look at front sheet for marks and not turn their own pages to see corrections.  All those late hours and late nights going waste, I overlooked gaining satisfaction from the minority that did go through every correction and came back asking doubts and clarifications.  I believed in doing work to the very best of my capacity. I would be thorough in checking my own work and chide myself for mistakes. 

It was worth it I felt.  I had certain ideals, role models, values and beliefs.  I had as an example of a teacher - student relationship, my father's relationship with his fifth standard teacher.  Every time he went to his native, the first morning would be a visit to the 'Thali' Shiva Temple followed by a visit to his teacher.  He has kept in touch with her and family all these years.  He took me to her for her blessings before my marriage.  Shantha teacher told me, unheard by him, of how proud she was of what my dad had achieved.  From having nothing to earning everything by himself through sheer hard work.  That relationship of a teacher and student at an advanced age for both teacher and student is unthinkable and inconceivable today.  He spoke to me at length on how the ideals I had started my job with will not hold in this changing world.  That I will be challenged at every step if I stuck hard to those ideals and will get knocked down if I do not compromise.  

My dad's calls during working hours meant he worried about me.  Every time he read news of students, he would call me because he knew that I was pretty strict with my students.  He also knew I supported and wished the best the world had to offer for them.  After listening to me, he counselled me many a time how I was not their parent.  Teach and leave class.  Whether they copy, don't study, finish work - advise them once, then let it be.  I countered, how was I not to get personal with my students, not care about their well being and still teach them.  I just didn't know how to do that.  I pointed to the relationship that he had with his teacher, because the teacher had invested time and interest in him.  He countered back, 'times have changed'.  

I finally understand the meaning.  Times have changed.  I have not changed.  I want to stick to my beliefs and ideals.  When the most important part of the job was not satisfying, I realized it was time to let go and quit.  However, with Corona still persisting, decided to finish the semester.  When boiling point reached, me being my dad's daughter, had no intention to compromise on dignity, integrity and principles.   So, I decided to let go and took a medical leave. I couldn't quit immediately because I owed it to one scholar of mine to help her complete an important journey.   

Liberating it is. Life is different. Options present itself.  However, for now, I need to get my health back on track.  The health issue that started in 2015 and I thought was solved in late 2019 has come back full force.  For now, I just sit still, praying and wishing to the goodness of the universe and Krishna for good health of my dad besides living life every moment rather than pass it as a blur, in the run to work.  I today pursue my interests in software,  learning new technology (Machine Learning - Computer Vision, NLP), writing stories, reading literature, painting, art, gardening and just being, with Rota and my better half, watching birds, sunrises and sunsets, insects and caterpillars.  I replay my life, looking at experiences and relationships, wondering at the meaning and purpose of it all.  I am convinced that my strength is my dad, his being, his being around, his strength, his principles and values.  Without him as root, I am lost. A nobody.  I admire the mettle my sisters are made of, for they have taken care of my dad throughout.  I wonder if I have that strength.  I wonder at the universe and my place in it, if there is any at all.  I wonder about my life, its purpose.  I have a guide book in the Mahabharatha and Bhagavad Gita.  It is a new journey, for a more meaningful and purposeful one. One worth calling a life. One worthy of my creator.  One worthy of my dad.