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.
