The Time Traveler's Father..

I recently read The Time Traveler's Wife and its one of those books that comes along every few years, where the story stays with you long after you've turned the back cover and put it away. How exciting - How absolutely bloody exhilarating to imagine if it were true. If one could keep going back in time to re-live memories, to re-look at what happened, to be happy again, be joyful again - I couldn't stop wondering, what if I could go back to the happiest time of my life. What if!? I asked Vivek too, what he would do if he could time travel, he gave me the silliest answer but then asked me back and without a blink, I knew if I could, I'd go back to any point in the first twelve years of my life. I'd go back to the time my dad was still around, flesh and blood, carrying me around as a baby, singing me lullabies to sleep; taking me to his board-meetings and letting me sit in the corner if I promised to keep quiet and play with my coloring book; coming late to pick me up from school every day but melting on the one day I cried and said I can't wait like this every day; my first fracture and waking up with a hardened chiclet in my mouth but sleeping safely in his arms (I still remember the dried tear on his face that day); how I slept on his arm every day, even when it was swollen and his worry was not the pain but how it would hurt my head. Its endless - the memories, the moments. What seem like little milestones and little underlines and highlights in the book of life today, were back then as trivial and as natural as can be. I wish I could go back to any time in that part of my life and I wish I could hold you once again.

But even if I can't, there's so much I want to tell you, Papa.

I'm so much like you today. If you were around, I'm sure you'd beam with the pride because even if I'm not perfect, I'm quite a perfect reflection of yourself. It is not rare for people to classify my skin type as wheatish, sometimes even dark, but they have no idea I wear this shade with pride, for this was exactly how you were. I never got Mumma's white Sindhi color and you'll agree she always looked like the better one when the three of us went out! Today, everyone says I look like Mumma, but she and I both know who I've taken after. I silently smile from within every time when someone says I have beautiful hazel eyes, because I get that from you. I have your height, your gummy toothy laugh, huge feet which bring me a lot of grief when I go buy shoes - But still, It is so much of you that it becomes almost impossible to hate these imperfect pieces of me. Forget the looks, there's so much of how I am and how I behave which is how you used to be. I have your horrible temper, your utter lack of patience and just enough regard for schedules that I never reach some place early but always on time. I hate mornings, love the sunsets and absolutely love packing and traveling and seeing new places every now and then like you made sure we did every few months. I'm still a sucker for sweet pongal, Rasam Rice and I still haven't eaten Laddoos like you always made for Ganesh Chaturthi yourself. I love my wheels and I love speed and just the other day I found myself telling someone who said I'm rash that I will accelerate just as long as I know I can control my car. You always said the same thing. The, déjà vus from decades ago don’t end!

I want to tell you that I fight less with Mumma, though we've fought enough for a lifetime after you left. She loves me too and I know that now though I always thought she hated me and you were all I had. I want you to know that after you left, I had a void in my life where I never thought anyone would love me unconditionally, with all my flaws and take care of me like you used to. I fell in love with someone who comes very close though and takes care of me every day - I think at times this is God's way of giving back slowly what he took away a long long time ago.

You know, Just after you left, everyone's behavior changed along with little things. My PTA meetings became very short; Mrs.Jacob who you wrote a stinker to in my diary went from being always angry with me to now being always sympathetic. There was so much pity in everyone's eyes for so long - exactly the stuff you and I both hate, being an object of someone's sympathy. People were extra nice for a while, they tried to be more inclusive, more loving, brought more gifts, tried to visit more often - But it was short-lived. Slowly, everyone went back to living their own lives and we went back to our own even smaller lives. We weren't a nuclear family anymore, we had suddenly been downgraded to a smaller term which wasn't even invented back then. Mumma and I always got a table for four when we wanted a table in the family section and always had to politely tell the waiters that yes, its just the two of us and yes, it is still a family. Nevertheless, school went well - Despite all my crying about Maths, I didn't drop it and continued to choose it till I could and I did quite well, you'd have been happy! I did everything I promised you I would - It is still an interesting story now for anyone who asks how did you know you wanted to be doing what you're doing or why did you do your MBA? I knew from when I was 8 years old, I wanted to be like you. I wanted to be wonderful at business, earn, learn, spend my day productively to be able to be self-sufficient and at times self-indulgent. I didn't become an entrepreneur like I kept telling you though. But I have hope, I might just.

After 18 long years today, the memory of that day is still so fresh. I can almost smell the smoke from the tar, almost see the mangled steel, almost hear the screams around because our doors were stuck and people around couldn’t pull us out of the crash. I'm sorry I asked to spend Christmas when we were on holiday, I'm sorry we didn't return on the 25th like we had always planned. Because then the 26th of December would have been just another day on my calendar. I would spend many 26th Decembers getting over Christmas hangovers like everyone else, I might have bought a small tree at some point in my life, gone on vacation on this day - but I somehow can't. I can't get myself to let this day pass without thinking over and over about how I should've been less greedy for one more day because part of me thinks I ruined every day to come. I hate that I wasn't awake that time so I could tell  you to brake or I wish I could do something, anything at all to stop this from having happened. I hate your last act of selflessness telling me to give up my front seat for the first time ever, because the sun was beating down upon us. It’s great having a eidetic memory to remember dates for History or remember maps for Geography, but it is a curse to remember how everything looked that day or to remember how my uncle's phone number looked on the phone diary because the police needed an emergency contact number to call; I hate that I remember how we shopped for that extra day of holiday in Cochin, how the doctors had to cut through those brand new maroon shorts to dress my wounds. Everything is alive, everything is fresh, everything hurts. Even today.

I went years being a quiet child, rarely bullied because I was somehow the tallest or biggest in class and the bullies wanted my notes so quid pro quo, they never troubled me. I went years being a confused, troubled teenager because it was very hard to cope with the fact that the one person who "takes care of everything" in others' lives wasn't around. From the big things such as going out to earn to the smallest things - fixing the bulbs, cleaning the shower heads, tightening screws on the cooker, oiling the door locks, peeling the mangoes patiently - We were by ourselves suddenly and it was awful to be helpless and clueless but also alone at the same time. But with time, something started changing. I found it easier to do these things - It was not natural at first, but it wasn't a mountain to climb either. It also became easy to make decisions and at times to handle grief. You know once someone tried to break into our house when we were just the two of us, I remember how I woke up and without a trace of fear called the police and spoke to them when the sirens came blaring. I went out at 2 am and showed them where he came from and where he must've escaped. All worry and fear apart, I felt grown up suddenly and I have absolutely no idea where the strength came from. I think it came from you.

So today, when I look back at perhaps how half my life has shaped up, I've learnt that it is always important to tell people how much you love them. If I could only go back to the last time we hugged that morning and how you gave me your gulab jamun at breakfast, I would hold on for a bit longer and tell you how much I love you. The twelve year old me would tell you how important you are to me, how much it means to me when you come home before bedtime so that I can sit and talk to you. I'd tell you how wonderful you are, because you gave me so much love in twelve years that I'd treasure it for a lifetime. I'd tell you that I agree I'm spoilt today, but I'll change tomorrow even though you won't be around to see it. I'd tell you that someday I would realize that people may adore and be extremely kind to a child like me but will always truly love only their own - I'd come to realize that blood runs thicker than water, that laws don't make parental relationships, blood does. I’d tell you that you might not be there to find me a husband (because its already one of your biggest worries even though I’m just 12 that someday I’ll have to leave you!) but I will end up getting lucky in love and will be blissfully married. I'd tell you that I'm never going to look at the sky and stars and pretend you're one of them like the movies try to make you believe, because one day I would come to understand that there is no better way you are alive than you are in me. When I will look at the mirror when I'm 30, I'll look at my flaws and zits and maybe I'll look at a lot of extra grams but when I look past that, I'll be thankful that till the end of my forever, I'll continue to see a bit of you every day and there's no greater gift than that to keep you alive for me.