For a heartbeat, a lifetime of devotion triumphed over dementia’s
raging incursion. As the opening bars of ‘Jana Gana Mana’ to mark the end of
this year’s Republic Day Parade in Delhi drifted from the television, my
89-year-old father started and then attempted to stand up on legs that no
longer quite work. Somewhere inside a mind whose circuits have almost been obliterated
by dementia, the old soldier knew that this was his country’s song and that he
had to stand to attention.
He isn't perfect. But in the 30-odd years he was an officer in the Indian Air Force and
the decades since, commitment to India and its people were the values he lived
by. And one of those values was to stand to attention for the national anthem.
Once, a few years after he retired, we were at an event in my
school. The school band struck up the national anthem, not to signal the end of
proceedings, but as part of their repertoire. And like a shot, my dad was on
his feet; this drew some strange looks, but we all followed. I squirmed then at
the unwelcome attention that came our way. But now, whenever I think about that
incident, it’s pride I feel, dusted with a pinch of shame for having squirmed
back then.
And that is what I breathed into his ear a few
days ago. Hoping that somewhere inside what lingers of his mind a cluster of
neurons would fire and let him know how very proud I am of him and how much of
the good there is in me is largely because of him.
9 comments:
Oh, sending you love! a+a
@a+a: Thanks. Much appreciated!
Tears are blurring my vision as I read this....tears of pride,tears of helplessness and frustration.....why does my poor loving father have to be reduced to this. You express so well in words what I feel every day. Dealing hands on with him day after day is heart breaking. Though physically not a huge man he was mentally a colossus and today to see him like this is shattering. But then as you said,we have all his strengths and his famous temper too!,
Bravo pour cette belle sensibilité Sankar @+
I am sure he knows deep down inside. Love and prayers.
Shanker, Beautifully written as usual.
As Lakshmi stated, Uncle has always been a mental colossus to all of us.
A true Airforce officer, disciplined to the core.
Your words bring tears to each one of us, even though each of us relate to him in different ways.
God bless him with minimum pain or agony.
Bindu
A thousand memories come pouring in.... As a child I was terrified of Uncle and his bristling mustache and gruff demeanor .... But then, somewhere along the way, as we grew, the years slowly closed the generation gap... When I was leaving for Delhi, he noted down his famous Bagara Baingan and Cornflakes Pudding recipes on sheets of paper in his firm and distinctive hand-writing... He visited us once in Delhi and had dinner with us.. I rushed back from French class to prepare a hurried meal... and he returned to Bangalore and told my parents that I had cooked a great dinner! When I was pregnant with my son, since we didn't have a car, my dad would borrow your Fiat to take me to my check-ups... and towards the end of term, Uncle would always keep the car filled with petrol in case we needed it at night... and sure enough, my son was born at 2 am after an anxious rush to St Philomena's ... in that Fiat car... Thanks, Uncle.. You were one of the best....
@Lekha: Thanks for sharing those thoughts... it is heartening to know that he touched so many people in ways big and small. And I remember some of those rides in the fiat with Uncle (your dad).
Beautifully expressed Sankar..
He was a caring person and reached out to people in very subtle ways...he had a very positive spirit and that kept him going..as long as he could physically and mentally..
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