Hero

Merriam Webster Online
Pronunciation: 'hir-(")O, 'hE-(")rO
Etymology: Latin heros, from Greek hErOs

a : a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability
b : an illustrious warrior
c : a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities
d : one that shows great courage

Surely not a or b, but in my own eyes - all of c and d. My Hero is my DAD.

In some way throughout my life in India I never ever so definitely came to this conclusion - maybe it was there somewhere hidden in the recess of my mind - but never so much as right in front of my face.

My first recollections of my dad are when I was very small - in the form of a few old photographs taken during occasional strolls in the Malabar Hills garden; the Kamala Nehru Park. Dad sitting on the grass with the 'Big Bean' tee-shirt (to this day I have never quite figured out what the big bean meant, although that will be embedded in my memory forever) and me very happily playing around him, carefree as ever, confident if anything arises HE would always be there for me. This thought process has been espoused by many psychologists - that the father would always be looked up as 'super-dad' by a boy in his early years: his dad could do just about anything.

Things slowly changed as I went into school and began interacting with a wider social circle. To be noted I was extremely hard to deal with - quite demanding on an individual - and to a great extent on my parents. I guess at that time I was trying to assert myself - and this would inevitably cause pitched battles with my sister, Roseita - who became a punching bag. At this point of time I have no tangible explanation how I could engage in such deeds and not even truly seek pardon for the same. The end result would be a sound thrashing from my dad - I still do remember the brown wooden ruler so very distinctly. At that time I did not realize it and cried and tried to kick my way free, that I wasn't the only person being hurt by the thrashing. Just knowing my dad several years later - I realize that it must have hurt him so much more - to beat his own blood - in order to help me realize what I done. Dad in such circumstances - became evil incarnate, always siding with my sister and I would in my heart of hearts hate him for it. I have vivid memories of running down the staircases of Kenilworth to the gate after a fight, waiting in anticipation for my parents arriving to plead my case before the judgment was delivered - which in most cases went against me.

Then there were our travels. I think that may have been the best times in our family. Bangalore, Mysore, Srinagar, Shimla, Chandigarh ... the list just goes on. If there is someone who gave me the traveling bug it would surely be my dad. During those times he would leave his work behind and we would explore all these exotic locales - leaving me with fond memories of the times we spent together - remember the Mughal Gardens in Kashmir... seeing snow for the first time in Gulmarg, eating burgers during a cold evening in Shimla, the early morning south Indian breakfast after a bone rattling bus ride to Manali. In some way I could espouse - if there was anytime of bliss - it was just this.

Life went on like usual for me - and as life would have it, as I moved into my teenage years my parents became more and more difficult to comprehend - at least from the way I saw it. It never was clear to me why my dad chose to do things the way he did ... Why walk from Grant Road when you could very well take the bus, why not insist and demand the perks of his position, be old-fashioned in dress style, I was just left with more questions then answers. I looked at my friends parents - who seemed to live life king size - and I sometimes was left feeling inadequate. This left me feeling a little lost - and I channelized these frustrations into studies, if I couldn't live like my classmates - at least I would beat them at what it mattered - in school. If I couldn't take tuitions - cause they cost too much, damn them... I would still study THAT much harder to match them. This would be the source of my much yearned respect in my class - and it was well earned. My mum was my tutor in these times - relearning her own past education to be able to educate us - and unknowingly gave me a gritty competitive spirit which I carry to this day.

These in an subtle way were my formative years. I never could understand why I was made to compulsory write essays regarding any trip I made - yeah, even to the garden. But if not the insistence of my dad I wouldn't be able to write anything like what I do today - from technical writing to composition of letters such as these. Although I do acknowledge accolades for these today - the real job was done back then - in the struggles and constructive criticism which I got to do it. Similar was the way in what we were taught to speak and read. I didn't realize it then - but those days spent in cultivating my love for reading poise to eloquently express words have been instrumental being able to deliver my thoughts clearly and confidently today. These are not tangible gifts - the true value of them is never realized until much later. To put things in perspective I now realize what an uphill struggle it would have been for my dad - since he didn't have any 'god-father' to impart these instructions to him - his own father expired when he was still in his early years. However I am not sure if I did ever acknowledge him or mum for what they did - cause if I then won an award - it was due to MY hard work.

My years in engineering went by like a bullet train - and I decided that it was time I leave for pursuit of higher studies in the U.S.A. simultaneously my dad retired from his job, as the Head of the Nuclear Medicine Center - where he has started his career as a research scientist years ago. I used to rib him a lot about why he didn't choose to remain in the US after his studies - why he didn't choose far more lucrative careers than a government job - why he stayed long after everyone had left in the pursuit of scientific research, especially when the other kids parents seemed to be quite lax in their work. He used to - and still does, remind me that money isn't everything in life, and that the object of any persons vocation should be to contribute something - even in the smallest of ways to the betterment of society, and he saw himself doing just that working here, without the sole objective of making profit - of course that made little sense then but then dad was a person who stubbornly stuck to his beliefs irrespectively of what I thought them to be - altruistic, idealistic and totally obsolete.

However there are few memories that I truly cherish - and enabled me to conclusion that if I needed a hero to look up to - that person certainly wasn't too distant from me. One was a comment from one of my dad's office colleagues - the telephone operator Vipul. Now Vipul is one of those people who you meet and greet if you come across them (dad having indoctrinated us with the idea that every person deserves respect irrespective of who they are and what they do) - but rarely think much about them. However once when I was in RMC (dad's primary home - or so we called it) she looked at me and queried one simple question - how did my dad ever develop to be so calm in nature, he never ever raised his voice at anything - and was always able to soothe ruffled feathers without much of a fuss. He seemed to her like a very 'opposite' kind of boss -- at least in her words .. being very modest and unassuming in nature at the same time being able to command respect from his peers and the rest of his colleagues. Its kinda odd when a stranger puts this point across very poignantly to you - and yes, I was pretty much left without a reply.

The second - more powerful moment came when dad gave his retirement speech in front of a packed audience at RMC. I had some background idea that he had risen against terrific odds from a scientific assistant to head the division - but dad always kept it to himself - never allowing us a hard glimpse of what it must have been like. However at that time on that stage - I saw my dad's human side as a professional - where he tearfully recounted those difficult years..... In an odd sense that seemed to give me some inner strength - although at that time I couldn't bear seeing my dad's tearful persona with a straight face. However although he must never had fond memories of those who held him back for selfish reasons - he never cussed at them - and at an earlier date even went up to talk to the same person who had tried to put him down. Although at that time I may have questioned the prudence of such a thing - being prone to go on the offensive when questioned - as I have matured I realize the amount of patience and perseverance that it would have required - at the same time a forgiving heart to be able not take revenge against those who put you down. Yes - it is quite the opposite of whom I wanted to be - strong, powerful and commanding - but in those moments I realized where the inner strength of a person really lay.

When I finally took off to USA my dad would have surely been worried - and although he never admitted it all those years - as he so succinctly put it - the fledging were leaving the nest - and he hoped and prayed that God would see them successfully through the trials and tribulations ahead.

Now - sitting here in a distant continent, I reminiscence on how similar I am to my dad - and am indeed thankful for the upbringing that I have obtained by my parents. Even if I tried my utmost best it would be impossible to repay the sacrifices that they have willingly taken in order to get me to where I am now - and in some way this essay expresses that. When I began composing this - indeed it wasn't a day effort, I used to think that such essays would typically be found as part of eulogies following the demise of a loved one. However I was determined that it not be so - in order for my dad realize what I used to, think - and will always will him to be - my Hero.

Wishing you a very very Happy Christmas.

Joseph

Second best....

The starting gun fires, and they are off... eyebrows knit with concentration, sinews bursting to extract every ounce of strength and before you can say 'Moby Dick' the 100m dash is all done - all under 10 seconds. The winner exults in the adulation of the crowd, a standing ovation before the packed stadium and the millions more watching him/her on television........... but what about the rest? Difference in times are only fractions of seconds - yet all the others are cast into the commonality of 'also rans'. Welcome to modern day competition.

The survival of the fittest - as codified by the likes of Darwin among others is as paramount today with the human race - as it is with every living organism in nature - only that the survival is at an altogether different level. But this essay is not targeted at those winners - but the also rans. In a subtle way their crucial importance cannot be underemphasized - without them - there wouldn't be any winners, there wouldn't be that extra effort to push the human body and mind to it fullest extent and beyond.

Most of us who call this world home belong to this commonality - if you so would like to refer to it in that way. No matter how hard we try - we do not seem to be able to meet or beat the best of best - no matter which area or field we pursue. In the same breadth - the winner himself cannot rest on his laurels - for fear of winning the battle but losing the war. The fortunes of both the winner and loser are thus entwined in each other - inseparable in some respects. For the losers - the winner serves as a goal to the achieved - a record that stands to be broken. For the winner - the losers are the only reason that he has to continue to train and better himself - just to maintain status quo, at the back of his mind being the ultimate reality that one day he will be successfully challenged on his own turf.

In all its quirks - therein lies the beauty of our existence. No matter how we look at it - the symbiosis continues to prevail - its something we cannot live without. Therefore - in whatever our struggles are - we should take heart that they are not all in vain - and never give up the sight of that elusive goal which we all seek - which makes all of us winners

Life Eternal

Well - for sure, this one will be short and sweet unlike my previous ramblings. My cousin in Raleigh, NC (U.S.A) was the source of this, which I think is quite an interesting take on the topic.

In some ways everyone wants to live forever - and although different religions and cultures have differing beliefs on how to achieve this - Christian's believing that once you die after having led a good life you could go straight to heaven where you would have everlasting bliss, Hindu's believing that your next life would be governed by the way you led your current life - following a cycle until you attain Moksha.

However it is obvious from the way we all live that we cherish our present existence so much that we dread the fact that one day it will be all over. Nowadays with the advances of science people are trying to overcome just this hurdle via cloning and other techniques - which even with all its opposition is a forgone conclusion in the future.

But have you ever considered this......

As long as you are single - your life is centered around yourself: yeah, we all talk about being concerned about parents, relations and friends. But the truth is that it is 'I' who comes first followed by the rest. Don't take me wrong on this issue - self preservation is a very important trait among humans - and is intrinsic to its very existence and possibly has played an important role in the dominance of man on planet Earth.

However when you have offspring, something changes. Look around you - and you will surely notice the same. The young one now becomes the object of singular attention of the parents - who would typically go to any - yes ANY extent to preserve the existence of the little one. One may casually cast it as 'over protective' parents - but Glen (yup, that's my cousin's name) had an interesting take on just this matter.

From L-R (Veenas' folks with Veena, lil Nicole, Glenn and Ethan)

As he put it - the parent sees a younger mirror reflection of him/herself in his baby (I am sure you have heard different people comparing the likeliness of the baby with one or the other parent). As the parent sees it - this baby is like clay - which can be fashioned in thought, mind and body just like him(her)self - to be virtually an extension of oneself.

In doing so - the parent achieves immortality - since he/she now lives through the baby. As Glenn rightly put it - this is why a parent will put him/herself in harms way - sometimes even at the cost of his/her own life.

Dad lives on through meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee :-)

This thought would also justify why a parent would be so devastated at the loss of a child - especially an only child; because in the child's passing away the parent unconsciously sees his/her own mortality and the loss of a chance of everlasting life.

Trip down Memory Lane

A few musings of my alma mater - Campion....


I thought a few of the usual utterances from teachers might bring a few smiles.

Here are a few. Some need an explanation, others speak for themselves.

Gomes: "Arre, ponghis!" (when nobody could answer his oral physics question correctly) or "Flippo!" as he raced to the end of yet another page of our Abbott physics text with ruthless speed (with only his bald head visible above the book).

Dias: "Plus t(h)ree"

Karanjia: "Come on, now!" (when asked to go over some basic maths point) and of course the endless mutterings to himself as he paced up and down the classroom after the lecture was over.

Hodi: "Atten-hen" or the cruel "Lev, Lev, …, Lev,
Right, Lev" in the mid-day heat of January before
Republic Day in the back garden.

Bhal: "Rise and shine!" (the inevitable consequence of so much as forgetting a text book)

Noronha: "You buggers!" (and Bharat V. starting to open his umbrella in the first row to prevent spit coming on his face)

Colaso: "That is, … I mean, that is …"

Mindu: (singing melodiously, after we've fooled him
yet again into believing he's got a great voice)
"Naach re morra … ambhya cha vanat … Naach re morra naach" Or, waxing lyrical, "If you bite your tie, you will die. And your mother will cry: 'Aamcho kaghdo marun ghelo'"