My father – my guiding light.

This week marks 14 years since my father passed away. He left knowing two grandchildren were on the way but without seeing them – suddenly, abruptly. With no precursive events. I felt too young when it happened. I wondered ‘why me’. Soon, though, I realized he left without suffering. And that, in those few years, he had given me all the guidance for a life time. He lived by example.

I had slept on my own from a very young age. My mother would say goodnight to me downstairs as she had to finish up in the kitchen while my father would come upstairs and turn off the light for me. When about 11, I suddenly developed a fear of sleeping alone. When I told my father, he told me it was natural and correct to think of potential risks, and that he did so too. What was I afraid of, he asked me? I told him – perhaps there was someone under my bed? Or inside my closet? Let us begin there, he said. Check it. I am here with you. Don’t be afraid, he reassured me. We went room by room. He then showed me how he took a round every night, checking all the external doors. I lost my fear that very day. When I look back, what a lovely way to show me to handle my anxiety logically and rationally! He could have easily pooh-poohed me asking why I should suddenly feel afraid. Or just said a dismissive all will be well. Instead this became a teaching moment – for me too, decades ago, on how to be an effective parent.

He insisted I learn the soft skills too – just the normal tasks that one needed to do. He was particular about quality and presentation – our work reflected our ethos and we should do the absolute best we could. My father wrote a LOT of letters (only snail mail those days), sometimes typewriting it himself or having a stenographer who would take dictation in shorthand. He would address the envelopes by hand. One day, he asked me to address one of them. I did so, made a mistake in the process, crossed it out and rewrote it. He asked me why I could not be bothered to write five lines without a mistake. It was a cutting remark, and I remember asking why it should matter since it was legible anyway. He did not say anything more but tore up the envelope and asked me to rewrite it. I did. Error-free this time. I was highly annoyed that day, but I am SO grateful for that moment. I learned that one should not be lackadaisical and flippant in anything one does. Everything could be thought of as ‘after all, it is only this’, ‘it is just that’ etc. No, it all matters. In this modern day, this is the hardest lesson to teach our children, I believe – the ‘so what’ attitude is all too pervasive.

He believed in the sanctity of the family and the importance of staying together. He was clear that despite growing up in the jungles of Africa (no exaggeration), my brother and I would not go to boarding schools and colleges as the family was, by itself, the best learning environment. So? He brought the world home. The best education to our doorstep – my brother and I self-studied for certificates and qualifications recognized literally the world over, from the privacy of our own home, eating hot tasty food cooked by our mother. Note that this was 30-40 years ago – when the concept of alternative education methods was practically unheard of (but, interestingly, did exist!)

One of the interesting adages my father espoused was “The biggest charity we can do is to manage our own work ourselves”. I am yet to hear this so clearly stated by anyone else. And it is something I revisited again and again and continue to do so. Right before my mother-in-law was to come for 6 months to visit my husband and me in the USA, one year after our wedding, my father promptly dispatched a self-typewritten letter reminding me that it was my duty to look after her well and ensure that she did not lift a finger. He went on to say that it was often a tendency to make parents housekeepers and baby sitters and that I should ensure that I do not do so. He assured me on the phone that he knew I would not but that it was his duty to remind me. I have practiced this to the best possible extent to the present day – I looked after my children myself throughout, with assistance from my husband as needed, and without resorting to daycare, babysitters or grandparents – with our then highly demanding two-career lives, it was a definite struggle, but we did it. So ingrained was this in me that when a relative asked me on a later occasion if my in-laws were visiting to look after my kids (avaa kuzhandaigaLa paathukka varaaLaa?), I was touched to the quick and in unusually instant eloquence in Tamil, retorted that they were coming to see the children but not to look after them (avaa paathukka vallai, paakka varaa).

He was a very traditional man but with remarkable clarity of thought and broadmindedness in outlook. He believed that a house would not be a home without the lady of the house devoting her full attention to it. He never micromanaged though – my mother handled all the household affairs, the budget, the groceries, the maid, the menu (all cooked by her personally) – my father was available for any consultation as needed. While I sincerely believe that after the initial biological requirements for infants, it can be either spouse that devotes that attention, I find that the family and children do appreciate a parent fully devoted to domestic affairs – if we think about it impartially, when we don’t do so, we use enough help to accomplish those tasks – add all that help together, it is often the work of more than one person! And the personal one-on-one customized attention? Priceless.

When it came time to decide what I should study for my undergraduate degree therefore, he thought English Literature would be perfect for me, given that I was a bookworm. So,that is what I did – loving every moment of it – self-studying, of course, writing examinations in Vellore and Chennai, based on wherever we were at the time. He practiced what he preached – not for him asking other women to stay at home whilst sending his daughter on the career path. This helped me dramatically in another way. As with any passion, had I assiduously followed a career path, my professional life would have become my first priority and the family would have felt like hurdles in its way – it could have set me up for a lifetime of regret for lost opportunities. I grew up realizing the value and the importance of handling a home, managing a family and holding myself in sufficient self-esteem for that – never for me the worry of if I am ‘wasting’ my life in the kitchen and in the home. I learned all the domestic chores, happily, was and am truly passionate about cooking and love being there for my family and my friends as needed – I am on-call all the time and proud to be so.

He was immensely far-sighted. When my marriage was decided (arranged, of course, sight unseen), he told me clearly that my duty was to follow the habits and customs of my husband’s home and to never worry if, when and whether it conflicted with what I had learned at my parental home. By following my marital home’s mores, I was doing everything right. This was most helpful – since while the underlying core values were identical, on a practical basis, the differences between our families were significant. But for my father’s clear statement before my marriage, I know I would have been highly conflicted with some of the divergences. Hence, when my husband suggested soon after the wedding that I go in for further studies, I jumped on to the bandwagon unhesitatingly, and of course had several years of a career too – and my father was proud of the fact that I had adapted to that aspect of life as well . However, my upbringing ensured that if the toss-up was between family and career, family would always take precedence. (As an aside, I find that every success story we know of and hear about usually always has one or more unsung, unknown characters who have dedicated their own lives to the other’s success)

While planning my wedding, my father asked me what I would like – and fulfilled all my desires – including having two wedding concerts on the two days of the wedding – one by my Guru, Sri. O.S. Thiagarajan and the other by my favourite instrumentalist of the time – U. Shrinivas on mandolin. I remember my excitedly telling my father the selection of accompanists I wished for – he then decided that it was probably best that I talk to Sri. Shrinivas myself! To be frank, what I said was that I wanted ‘good’ accompanists and mentioned several options. The final ensemble selected was the stellar cast of Delhi Sunder Rajan on violin, Srimushnam Raja Rao on mridangam and EM Subramaniam on ghatam (it had originally been TH Vinayakaram who ended up unable to come – I recollect the immense grace and politeness with which Shrinivas called and expressed his regret at having to make the change). I still remember my father’s fond expression as he heard me on the phone making the arrangements.

Hospitality was a watchword for my parents. Nobody could leave without eating or drinking something. My father could be most persuasive. Whoever came home was always fed hot food, freshly prepared for them by my mother. The amount of entertaining my parents did is mind-boggling. And though all the hard work was by my mother, she was always smiling and thoroughly enjoyed the company. The moment someone walked in, amma would greet them, bring beverages and start on one dessert and one savoury snack – at least. As a strictly vegetarian and teetotal family living abroad, we introduced our food to countless others whose knowledge of Indian cuisine began and ended with Tandoori chicken. Food really does bring people together – to the present day, there is nothing more satisfying to me than preparing foods that each person likes and watching them enjoy it.

Honesty was the guiding principle of his life. Very acerbic, forthright and principled, he helped family and friends alike, often going out of the way to do so. Charity was part and parcel. He assisted many in so many ways besides contributing to deserving causes – he set up a trust in his parents’ name to formally disburse these amounts. One incident comes to mind – a friend of his invested in some publicly traded monetary instrument at my father’s recommendation. It tanked. My father reimbursed the entire loss himself despite vociferous objection from the friend. Had it not been for me, you would not have suffered the loss, was my father’s point.

It is more than a baker’s dozen years since my father died. But his principles serve as guiding lights. Whenever I feel lost or confused, I merely have to remember some of the many such incidents and it gives me direction. I am eternally grateful to have had a father whom I could be proud of – whom everyone has been proud of knowing. Now to at least live up to a fraction of that expectation….