A whole entire year, yes! an entire year, the first full one without appa. It has passed. As I sit here at my computer and type away this words, appa looks back at me thru a picture frame on my desk. The picture was taken in Galveston, TX. What makes this picture unique is the twinkle you can see in appa's eyes, almost as if to say, I am not going anywhere. It has a very comforting and cheering appeal.
Its been a wonderful year in many ways, and I know appa would have loved to have seen this one as well. The summer was the highlight of the entire year. To have Usha, the kids and amma, all together was absolutely incredible. Appa would have completed that picture so perfectly. There were so many memories that were created, so many that he would have loved to be a part of.
Everytime I look at that picture of my desk, it reminds me that I (I really mean all of us!) too should live with the same spirit.
- Enjoy company,
- quietly enjoy the silent moments,
- Cherish relationsips,
- love your family with utter devotion,
- create memories,
- give selflessly,
- experience the world,
- take delight in little things,
- lose yourself in the things you love,
- sing without inhibition,
- cheer fanatically,
- care unconditionally,
- enjoy simplicity,
- travel fearlessly,
- laugh heartily,
- argue with a passion,
- eat heartily,
- honor God humbly
Wish you all a Happy New Year, and as is customary for me to do every new year, Happy Birthday Appa.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
goodbye little blue car
a couple of days ago we sold appa's car, the maruti 800 (his second 800, the first one an even older model that had been handed down from paddu chitti to me to him). it was bought by achala and ananya's karate sensei, Sridhar, who has been a frequent visitor to the house and so has seen appa driving the car. he was happy to have it, and we were happy that someone we knew and trusted would drive it.
but when the moment of transfer arrived and sridhar came and picked up the car, i found myself all tied up in knots. it seemed like we were saying a final goodbye to something that was so closely connected to appa's memory. he had driven that car for nearly four years before he died, it had ferried a number of visitors to and from the station and airport with him at the wheel, it had been driven with my daughters to the bus stop and to school and cricket ground, it had seen several close shaves when he was angry and upset with mindless drivers, and it had taken him to the country club that last morning in april 2008. but of course most of the memories were good ones, and i sincerely hope sridhar and his family also have many good memories in that car.
appa had promised to teach the girls driving in that car, and i had hoped to not sell it until they had learned at its wheel. but a whole year went by and driving lessons didn't seem like they were going to happen, so it seemed the best thing to do.
appa had a great relationship with cars. he loved to drive, and i remember him bringing home vanaja iyengar's old standard or sankar anna's austin and giving us a weekend treat of a drive somewhere. when he got his own first car--a maruti van, circa 1988--it was a huge source of pleasure and pride. he used every excuse to take the car out, to the station to pick up people at 4 30 a.m., to pochampalli to buy sarees straight from the loom, to monda market to buy vegetables on the most crowded days possible... to be at the wheel of his own car was something that he never quite lost the joy of feeling.
but it was hard to say goodbye to it, even though i know the memories are in my head and not in the car, it just felt like a part of me was being driven away that night.
but when the moment of transfer arrived and sridhar came and picked up the car, i found myself all tied up in knots. it seemed like we were saying a final goodbye to something that was so closely connected to appa's memory. he had driven that car for nearly four years before he died, it had ferried a number of visitors to and from the station and airport with him at the wheel, it had been driven with my daughters to the bus stop and to school and cricket ground, it had seen several close shaves when he was angry and upset with mindless drivers, and it had taken him to the country club that last morning in april 2008. but of course most of the memories were good ones, and i sincerely hope sridhar and his family also have many good memories in that car.
appa had promised to teach the girls driving in that car, and i had hoped to not sell it until they had learned at its wheel. but a whole year went by and driving lessons didn't seem like they were going to happen, so it seemed the best thing to do.
appa had a great relationship with cars. he loved to drive, and i remember him bringing home vanaja iyengar's old standard or sankar anna's austin and giving us a weekend treat of a drive somewhere. when he got his own first car--a maruti van, circa 1988--it was a huge source of pleasure and pride. he used every excuse to take the car out, to the station to pick up people at 4 30 a.m., to pochampalli to buy sarees straight from the loom, to monda market to buy vegetables on the most crowded days possible... to be at the wheel of his own car was something that he never quite lost the joy of feeling.
but it was hard to say goodbye to it, even though i know the memories are in my head and not in the car, it just felt like a part of me was being driven away that night.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Another April, another 21st
Getting together to remember appa...while there was emotion and regret and sadness, the overwhelming feeling was one of togetherness, and gratitude that we are a family that feels together.
When I woke up in the morning, the first thought to strike was...if he were here. And the other thoughts followed in quick succession, and this is what I wrote--
When I turn on the radio
and listen to Shruti on WorldSpace,
Or Ananya asks if I will drop her
at cricket practice;
Or I hear the swish of the garden hose
and the echo of a "good morning"
as Subramaniam the watchman opens the gate;
Or Dhoni scores a six
and bad fielding upsets a game;
Or when I butter my toast in the morning;
Or pick up the paper
and look at the Sudoku squares;
and at old cassettes on the book rack;
When we go to Utsav
and bring back five toothpicks...
If he's here at all these moments
that make up my days--
then why do I worry?
He's only a thought away.
When I woke up in the morning, the first thought to strike was...if he were here. And the other thoughts followed in quick succession, and this is what I wrote--
When I turn on the radio
and listen to Shruti on WorldSpace,
Or Ananya asks if I will drop her
at cricket practice;
Or I hear the swish of the garden hose
and the echo of a "good morning"
as Subramaniam the watchman opens the gate;
Or Dhoni scores a six
and bad fielding upsets a game;
Or when I butter my toast in the morning;
Or pick up the paper
and look at the Sudoku squares;
and at old cassettes on the book rack;
When we go to Utsav
and bring back five toothpicks...
If he's here at all these moments
that make up my days--
then why do I worry?
He's only a thought away.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
watching the women's world cup
it's been a while since the last post, and i suppose we have all come to terms in a way with absence, living our lives the way they need to be led, pausing occasionally to allow space for that memory that nudges us and makes us feel regret, happiness, brings a smile or a tear.
ananya and i are sitting here on a lazy sunday morning watching the women's world cup, telecast from australia. if appa had been here she would have been downstairs watching it with him, perhaps, exchanging the odd comment.
if he had been here....
it's a thought difficult to avoid, but surprisingly, it leaves you only with a gentle sort of regret, and not a searing pain. maybe that's because he left as gently as he lived, with minimal pain to all of us who watched him leave. he created a system, a family, that goes on without him, its relationships intact, its network of feelings as strong as ever. all the athais and chittappas are just as strongly connected to us as they were when he was here, and in that sense, he has been a great manager!
now we're looking forward to a reunion of sorts, about a month from now, when we will remember appa and regroup around--not our grief, but our joys of having known and spent time with him.
ananya and i are sitting here on a lazy sunday morning watching the women's world cup, telecast from australia. if appa had been here she would have been downstairs watching it with him, perhaps, exchanging the odd comment.
if he had been here....
it's a thought difficult to avoid, but surprisingly, it leaves you only with a gentle sort of regret, and not a searing pain. maybe that's because he left as gently as he lived, with minimal pain to all of us who watched him leave. he created a system, a family, that goes on without him, its relationships intact, its network of feelings as strong as ever. all the athais and chittappas are just as strongly connected to us as they were when he was here, and in that sense, he has been a great manager!
now we're looking forward to a reunion of sorts, about a month from now, when we will remember appa and regroup around--not our grief, but our joys of having known and spent time with him.
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