For Papa...

Oft in the recent past have I ranted and raved about my apparent misfortune, questioned what life had in store for me, lamented on how difficult life can be and even wondered if there really is a higher power up there that enjoys pulling our strings and turning our lives into a roller-coaster with one flick of his/her wrist. Never have I meant it as much as I do now...for with that one flick of a wrist, within an instant, my life as I knew it ceased to be.

4th March 2006, we'd returned home after a leisurely dinner at my Chacha's place, when we received that fatal call that changed everything. My father, away on a holiday with my mother in Kumarakum, Kerala, had suffered a heart attack....minutes later a second call confirmed our worst fears. In the days that have since passed, I've struggled to make myself believe that he won't be ringing the bell and come sauntering in with his laptop delighted with his latest accomplishment at Phoenix Mecano India. For as long as I can remember, my father's name has been synonymous with his work, his dedication to it, his honesty, uprightness and truthfulness - whether it was at M.D.S (today a part of LeGrand), or when he was a management consultant or in the last decade at P.M.I. He worked for the pleasure of working, never for the money...to the point that he's put in many hours, days, months of effort into building up people's companies and ended up not getting any remuneration at all. But that's Papa...and he totally kicks ass!

Yes he does. I wanted to say this during the Shanti Path when the priest asked if anyone wanted to say anything about him, but I was too choked at that the time. I want to rail against whoever is sitting up there, pulling our strings, for this was the wrong string pulled. It's unfair. Papa had planned so much, he had so much more to achieve. People talk of him as someone they can never forget, a man of exemplary vision, an able man of few words who believed more in decisive action to solve the problem instead of talking about it. All his dreams, his visions were so close to realisation. He had so much more to do, so much more to teach me, teach his grandson, teach all of us.

That it happened on his first vacation in donkey's years, that it happened when my parents were so far away from any family/friend, far even from medical assistance makes me go blind with rage at the injustice of it all. I still can't believe it, even though I was with him till the last minute at the crematorium. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night disoriented, my mind filled with a jumble of images. Papa smiling, frowning in concentration as he typed away on his laptop, glaring angrily at me when I refused to back down from an argument which was threatening to explode in my face, stroking my head before I went to sleep while I continued to browse blogs/chat/email, tired at the end of a long day at work, cold in the coffin...

It all seems so unreal...I wonder how things continue as if nothing has changed, I want to go stop everything, but life continues. And so must I, for my mother and for my father if not for anything else. I can't disappoint them - I have to fulfill my dreams and fulfill Papa's dreams for me. He always egged me to do more; it was me who was lazy, content with what I already had...I have to make him proud enough to sit up there and nod his head as he says that his daughter kicks ass....and my father would say that. Yes he would, because he did too!

Below is my favourite photograph of my parents together - taken several years ago when we were still in Bombay. It's how I'll always remember Papa - smiling, happy, proud of his family and confident in his accomplishments.