Training day

The girls did not stop at being "just like thatha". They wanted to copy Madras paati (grandma) as well. They figured out that the grandparents went ecstatic when they were being followed around and used that to good advantage to win the good graces of grandma.

Here is Jr. insisting on learning how to peel and cut onions from Grandma.

Initially she was happy and within a few minutes she regret the decision. Cutting tomatoes would have been a better choice.

In spite of being all teary eyed, she finished the job and made Grandma and me proud!

The copying did not stop with the onion cutting. It went on and on, from buying little wire baskets, filling them with random things and carrying them everywhere to keeping a giant size bindi with kumgumam(vermillion).

Both Jr. and the little one adapted really well this time. They ate at roadside dabas, used eastern style restrooms behind these highway dabas where even the grandparents who are resident desis were having second thoughts. They made it relatively easier for daddy this time compared to the last trip (especially since my right hand is still not a 100% and it is very difficult to carry the little one everywhere).

In another year, things will be even better if both of them eat by themselves and their mom trains them to eat pani pooris without making a mess. Then daddy can relax in the house and encourage all three of them to go eat out!

The plan is there.. just have to keep working on it.

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Tears when you need them

Have been on the phone with relatives and friends for the last 24 hours. For some strange reason, have not been able to cry.

It is like this great body of tears has all welled up somewhere and there is something that is stopping the dam from bursting out. San has cried and gotten better, Jr. who heard grandma cry over the phone, cried in turn, threw up by psyching herself and the little one did her thing as well.

For some strange reason, tears evade me. There is a lot of guilt, for making my bed here in the USA, a far away land, knowing that it would not be possible to go make it to India in times like these, within a time frame that would make any sense.

There is a rich culture and an elaborate grieving process that actually helps the people left behind, of which I am not a part of, right now. That with the guilt for having no one else to blame for this situation but myself, is not helping.

So, in an attempt to justify my internal logic, I am living in some kind of delusional world where on the one hand the death of the grandfather who epitomizes the word "love" for me is conflicting with thoughts like "I could have been living in Bombay instead of California and there could be a flood there or an airline strike there and it would be the same situation..." etc. etc.

The hamster inside the head is running at 400 GHz, quite aimlessly for it knows not how to get all those well intentioned emotions out.

My mom called me and broke down today over the phone. Somehow, news reached her that I was in an accident on thursday morning and escaped near death. As a family have had more reasons to be together than ever before, this year.

We for our part did not tell her about the accident because we did not want them to worry. They for their part did not want to tell us that Grandpa was admitted to the hospital and was in critical condition, because they didn't want us to worry. When I told my mom that maybe if she had given me a hint two days earlier, there would have been a plane ticket, she told me she knew about my accident and how I did not tell her. That sealed my lips.

Now we have sealed tear ducts and sealed lips. My school teacher mom promptly reminded me of

Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

(a poem that is not easily forgotten)

Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee--
Like summer tempest came her tears--
'Sweet my child, I live for thee.'

Somehow, someone needs to slap me or say or do something that will get all this stuff inside to come out.

Maybe it is fear of losing my composure in front of Jr. and the little one that is making me do this?, don't know.

Till that happens, going to walk around with a blank stare.

God knows I miss him. Thought putting this in words might help. Still doesn't.

ps. We were at Tamizh school this morning and as I waited in the car for San to drop off Jr. in class and be back, saw a grandpa carrying a little on on his hips and hold his version of Jr. by the other hand and it reminded me of my grandpa doing the same thing with me and my brother. Almost started crying and San came back with the Little one and I stopped. Sure that emotional dam will burst. Just hoping it is sooner than later!

The little one is truly blessed. She can cry on demand and get tears instantaneously for no reason.

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My Dearest Appayithathayi

Earlier today there was a phone call from India. We were having an afternoon nap. Without realizing that it was day and looking at the clock and seeing 1:30, I told my mom, "isn't it too early to call me for a birthday wish. how many times do I tell you to note time difference before waking me up too early? Call me later" and my mother goes "have bad news for you, and by the way, it is afternoon for you and it is 3 AM for me! Appa is not with us anymore".

My grandfather, who I call "Appa" (daddy) because I saw my mom and all her siblings call him Appa, named me Sundararaman because he was reading "Sundara Kaandam" from Ramayana the previous week. The name implies, Rama who belongs to Sundara (also known as Hanuman or Anjaneya). A pious man who always put family first, there are so many words that rush to my mind.

My grandpa has filled our lives with happiness, tried his best to teach us how to enjoy and appreciate life, handle difficult situations and has been a role model to all his kids and grand kids (which we will pass on to his great grand kids) on how to appreciate people, god, music, and culture.

More than anything, he taught every one how to love, cherish and appreciate one's spouse. In April, when I went to visit him (last time we met), was talking to a local auto rickshaw driver near Hotel Carnival..

Me: Adayar Sri Krishna Sweets ponum pa, variya? (have to go to Adayar, will you come?)

Driver : Jodi Thatha peran dhane nee? (you are "Jodi" grandpa's grandson right?)

Me : !!!

Driver : Unga thatha mudiyudho mudiyaliyo, patti kayya pudichu enga ponalum ezhuthukitte povaru, adhanaala naanga Jodi thathannu solluvom! (your grandpa holds on to your grandmas hand and takes her with him everywhere, irrespective of wheather she can or cannot walk. So we nicknamed him "Jodi" thatha .. which means "partner" by the way!).

He lived a full life. My paati, their 6 children and families which include 11 grand children and 5 great-grand children will all miss him and will definitely celebrate his life.

It feels sad that out of all those people, I am the only one who will not be there and have to go through a grieving process remotely. It is times like these that we need to have Star Trek like Transporters made available sooner. While the rest of them are all gathered in one place as I type this to cremate him, have put together a tribute to him on youtube.

Here is to my Dear Thatha...

We love you!

ps. this is a collection of photos and videos from what was available here. the sound in the background is his reciting Ramayana in 1993 for me. He gave me that tape so I could listen to him whenever I missed him!

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Taming the PhD high horse

The Visitor requested that I respond to this post, on taming the Indian PhD high horse.

Here is a demo from Jr. and the little one on how to tame the PhD high horse (or elephant) as the case may be!

This is the short answer. The long response will come later this week.

My grandfather, who is the most influential person in my life, is fighting it out in ICU in Chennai. Hope he can get up and see this photo, and bring back memories of how he used to carry me and my brother on his shoulders day after day!

Get well soon, Appa!

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