Jyotsna Kumar who lives with Sensiro Neural Deafness reflects on her father, his loves and interests and how her relationship with him has evolved and come full circle as she now cares for him.
For my father, on Father’s Day:
He cracked open walnuts on door hinges for me.
He was the only one in the house who was fearless with lizards and insects.
When it rained, he got the car and brought it around to the door.
When I was sick he would take me to the doctor and get me my medicines.
He would cut himself while shaving, but no one got excited about it; it was commonplace.
He took lots of pictures, but was rarely in them.
The joy of books, of reading, of discovering musty old libraries - I owe that to my dad.
He helped me with my homework, taught me geography and history (no modern maths for him).
His fascination for car number plates has remained with me to date.
A Sunday evening drive to the seafood market on Lloyds Road and early breakfast mornings at Woodlands drive-in, Madras was family time! I recollect how as a little girl I would get impatient once the order was placed for my food and he would narrate an imaginative story on what was happening inside the hotel kitchen with the waiter as the main protagonist and before he could finish, the food would have arrived. Writing this gives me great joy even today. :)
On my first ever bus ride alone back from college (that too a ladies special), I found him waiting for me at the bus stop to take me home in the car. At 18, I remember my annoyance at his protectiveness. I was churlish and embarrassed and refused to sit in the car. He understood..
My dad's care and protection remains as a source of strength even today. I acknowledge it now without annoyance. Perhaps that’s the joy of growing old and parenting one's parent. The joy of knowing that your dad believes in you no matter what you are and how you behave!
Age is just a number!
It's a blessing to have him live with me and my family. No small blessing this. He turns 91 this year and a glorious healthy fulfilled 91 years it’s going to be. Since my mother’s passing away (and the care he gave her for so many years through her diabetes and health issues), he has chosen to create his life differently - learning yoga, classical music and bhajans. He has gone back to his first love - books and writing. He published his first book in 2017 on 'Universal Religion: Mother as God', enjoyed interacting with the readers and had book readings too. And he is now in the midst of writing his second book on Aryan Migration. I see his head bent over on his iPad as he types incessantly, reams of paper with his unmistakable handwriting.And I glimpse then how life has come full circle as he ages and it’s time for me to care for him. I recollect the lines I read in a book,”Caregiving often calls us to lean into love we didn’t know possible.”― Inspired caregiver. Knowing that we are there allows my father the space and energy to pursue what he has always wished to do, age is just a number.
Simplicity is his hallmark
The joy he finds in simple things be it meeting people, conversations or eating out is a reminder for me too - to find joy in the simple stuff. He enjoys a pampering pedicure once in a while and if you are a Modi fan, he will be in 7th heaven. His indignation at Pune roads and poor driving, the inaccessiblity of places, rankles him still. Perhaps he is coming to terms with his ageing.
The reminiscing about his childhood, his college days at Presidency Madras and then Law college, his professors, his long bicycle rides to school and the 3 ‘Anna’ Idlis he ate. Of how when he lived in Pune as a young boy, he ate the most delicious poori-urad dal made by an elderly lady. I know his memories as well as he does. I take them for granted. He understands..
Simplicity is his hallmark. He values books more then clothes. He treasures a simple meal of curd rice with pickle, fried chilli and appalam just as much he cherishes his ‘jalebi rabdi' and ‘shahi tukdas’. He is also one of those rare few who has never played a sport or gone for a walk or exercised. He loves his cashews and ‘chilgozas’ (pine nuts) and hardboiled orange candy.
My wish for my Dad
He carries his quiet, gentle yet commanding presence wherever he goes. He worries about burdening me (though he doesn’t say it) more then I worry myself. I love him for that.
His dream now is to learn Sanskrit shlokas. Guess who will be his biggest critique yet silent encouragers - me and my daughters. :-)
I’ll end with a quote on Father’s Day...the first ever Father’s Day when I’ve written about my dad. I loved this quote for its simplicity and truth.
“My father didn’t tell me how to live. He lived, and let me watch him do it." – C.V. Kelland
So Dad, may you learn to recite the Shlokas and teach me to recite them too. May you write more books for the joy of writing them...perhaps I’ve got my writing gene from you.
Also By Jyotsna Kumar
My Disability Took a Back Seat to Motherhood
Co-existence of Caregiving and Nourishing Oneself
