In Memory Of My Dear Father

December 9, 2008: This morning, I performed the "shraddham" for my father at the Aurora temple. It is a kind of "Thanksgiving" ritual performed once a year to remember the dead ancestors and pray for the welfare of their souls. I feel indebted to my ancestors for my birth, body, knowledge, and wealth. The least I can do is to remember them once a year through the shraddham ritual.

Memory of my dear father lingers in me everyday though it is over 15 years since he passed away.

My father was not particularly orthodox but when it came to the annual shraddam ceremony, he was a stickler. Every year, on the day previous to the shraddham, he used to clear all the furniture in the living room and prepare it for the elaborate rituals and feast to follow the next day. He will bathe early, count and keep the cash ready to offer to the priest and the invited guests. I guess he too, like me, often remembered how his parents cared for him in his childhood.

Unlike me who changed many jobs, my father worked hard all his life at the same job in a hazardous chemical factory. He felt happy and secure with his government job and never even thought of a career change. He led a simple life with clean habits and never had a desire for luxuries of any kind. He had a buoyant personality with ready wit that could make anybody laugh.

My father was not rich but the love he had for his children and grandchildren was abundant. I distinctly remember how he had bought for me brand new school books (those books had a special scent!), lovingly wrapped each them in brown paper and glued labels on them with my name. Many years later, he continued to do the same for his grand kids too!

When I won a merit scholarship in the first term of my college, he was so proud of me. He presented me a beautiful 'Henri-Sandoz' swiss watch specially procured from one of his friends who dealt with scarce foreign items. I rarely took the watch off my wrist.

The second term scholarship made way for my first bicycle - a brand new, sleek 'Sen-Raleigh' with oil-filled crank case, back carrier, dynamo lights et al. Like a proud peacock strutting around, I used to ride on it even for performing small errands to my mother. Often, I used to carry my kid brother for fun rides, though it was not fun at all times. Once, while I was racing the bike, he pressed the front brakes so hard that it resulted in a sudden somersault of him, me and the bike in the same order.

Thinking back, I was very lucky. Under the love and affection of my dear parents, I was fortunate to spend very happy childhood days.

Later, in my career days, my father was always there to encourage me during my lowest moments. His favourite advice - "Don't be chicken-hearted. Things will work out well for you."

I loved my father more than anyone. He influenced me in so many ways, and I feel it is my duty to express my love and gratitude for him through the 'shraddham' ceremony.

I really miss my dear Dad...