In memory of Father

Today is January first, 2007. So much has happened in 2006-an eventful(?) year! I decided to write about my father on this New Year day.

I was not yet nine when I lost my father. I have only faint memories of my father and even faded memories of calling him “Acha”. My father was born in a poor family at a small village in Trivandrum district. He was very quite and humble person and a man of simple living. Father wanted his children to reach lofty heights. My most precious remembrance about him are some of our trips to Trivandrum museum, temples, cinemas, beaches, Kanyakumari, etc. , other that I cannot recollect any thing about him! We were very young- I was eight years old and my sister was just fiveyears. He was suffering from acute asthma. Every now and then he was admitted to hospital. But unfortunately, due to his weakened constitution, he ultimately succumbed to a bout of asthma. In June, 1978 my father breathed his last in the Trivandrum General Hospital. Unfortunately none of his children nor my mother were present at the time of his demise. The funeral was held at his home. As I am the eldest son I had to light the flame. When the priest asked me to do so, I felt very angry at the people present. Why did they want to burn my father? But I followed their instructions and then I knew my father would never come back again. I lost him forever! Till that date I never knew what death was! How shocking it was! How it can change one’s life! After my father’s unexpected demise we moved from Trivandrum to my mother's place- a small village in Trivandrum district. We started a new life there with new friends in a new environment! I learned that life is about surviving the one's losses and being able to move on. My mother (from whom I learned much more than multiplication tables) single handedly brought us up without letting us feel the absence of a father! I can never forget the trials and tribulations she had undergone all these years.