Happy Birthday Appa - 03/05/2020

“I can’t do this anymore”, I said, exhausted, yet so full of energy. I was done with school. I couldn’t go back there. It was a fucking circus. Children playing around, running around with crayons, scribbling on the walls, teachers trying to hush the chirpy children, the seniors rallying for the election, some of them playing cricket, some football, the other basketball. The description definitely makes it seem fun. But it wasn’t. The crowded, congested lunchroom, the four rounds of jogging each morning, the endless hours without the fan and the principal’s gruesome lectures.

It was hell. I couldn’t take the taunts, the beatings, the chalk thrown into my eyes, the labeling, the pain and the agony. It was too much to expect of me. Besides, I was only in fifth grade. My mom had left us, she’d decided to live with another man. Raise another family. And she was fucking blind because she was unaware of what she was missing.

These thoughts, racing around my miniature head, the words ‘sissy’ and ‘Dumbo’ floating around there too, speeches and other talks I needed to say at court. There were so many things packed tight in that little brain of mine and I couldn’t possibly worry about how horrible school was on top of that.

I had made up my mind. I wasn’t going to deal with this shit. I was done with school. DONE. How much ever Maruti asked me, my reply would change. I wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t going back there. I couldn’t. It was impossible. To go back there and brace those verbal volleys, receive those excruciating insults, probably give one back too, one would have to be insane. Afterall, it is a mental asylum. So maybe the children who go to school belong there.

I left it that. Why should I think about something that makes me cry? That makes me look like an unambitious, tedious and gloomy kid. It was best to leave it as is and move on. I would. Definitely. But not Maruti. He just had to go and open that big mouth of his. And blurt out whatever I told him. Gosh! Why did I even share stuff with him?

I was now in my room, face-first on my pillow, engulfed in the thick woolen comforter we’d got from Vrindavan. I was done with life. With the crappy peers, the slutty mother, the ‘no going back to Australia’, my only friends moving away. I was fucking done. What kind of sin must I have committed to get such a crappy life? Exhausted, I was just about to call my friend over and explain to him what had happened, when, at the same moment, I heard a knock on my door.

I knew it was Raghav. He was the only person who understood me. Whatever I did and said, it was him who comforted me, and him who consoled me. If there was anyone I wanted to see after the horrendous day at school, it was Raghav. Of course, it was him. It absolutely had to be. Who else would read my mind like this?

But boy could I be more wrong! Sighing, slouching and bending my shoulders, frowning, I got off of the bed and took three huge strides over to the door. I unhinged the lock and slightly opened the door. I couldn’t see who it was but a strong scent Issy Miyake and Davidoff arose from outside. I wondered when Raghav had started using perfumes our parents used and opened the door again. This time, slightly a bit wider.

I was profoundly astonished. Greatly surprised when I saw who was at the door. He wasn’t one bit like Raghav. He wasn’t Maruti. He wasn’t my dog, duh, I didn’t have one back then. He was my DAD. It was so fucking weird to see him in my room. All I would ever do literally every single day was wish him good morning, drink coffee with him and not say a word and then in the evenings after school, do the same during dinner and wish him goodnight. To see him, Tommy Hilfiger watch on his left hand, cleanly shaven, hair neatly cut, his stomach not popping out like other men who were in their forties, I was spellbound. Why was he here?

“You know it is my house too Mr. Poet”, he said, with a tiny laugh at the end of those words, looking at the astonished figure in front of him. He smiled in god knows how long and automatically, I smiled back. For the first time in almost two weeks. I was delirious. I couldn’t believe it. I was actually getting to spend time with my dad. The same dad, who was always stuffed with work, always on meetings in Dubai, Malaysia, London, Mumbai, Switzerland, Melbourne, New York, Cape Town. Always never home. That same dad was in my bedroom, actually talking to me.

When I left that bedroom after around ten minutes worth of conversation, I evolved a new man. I was definitely more courageous and much more open, I guess. In the years to come, I would be captain of the school cricket team, win many many competitions and become the Junior Captain of the school.

That talk really transformed me and I think, someone like my dad talking to me and advising me on how to tackle obstacles, was pure gold. I couldn’t have asked for a better mentor. My dad truly made me realize what my potential was and helped me evade any obstacles that blocked the path to my goal. If it weren’t for him, who knows, maybe I would still be the shy, weird and bullied kid I was three years ago.

But yes, looking back and reflecting on this talk that happened quite a while ago is truly quite nostalgic. It definitely made me realize the value of my dad and let me tell you, that value cannot be expressed in numbers. Appa – You are my hero and my one true savior. Thanks for everything that you have done and continue to do. I am immensely grateful for being given a dad of this caliber and will forever be ecstatic that I was exposed to all sides of you, be it the one where you swear in Tamil and shout if we mimic you, the one where you act all serious and don’t take any action, or if it is you working your hardest, every minute, every day.

The reason you inspire me, the reason I wrote this piece, Appa, is not because you are a legend. It is not because you do so much for us. Not because of those amazing vacations we took. Or those cricket matches we watched. It is a piece of advice you gave me on that evening, and it goes like this.

“Ladhu, whatever you can in life. Always seize opportunities. But only do so while,

Giving it your all, your best and a freaking amazing smile.”

Happy Father’s Day Appa!!

I love you,

Prahlad