Life doesn't wait for anyone or anything

 

My parents were quite old when I was born. My dad was 48 and my Amma was 43. I'm pretty convinced that I was the 'impossibility' that was destined to come into this world. My mother was already quite sickly as she had suffered from asthma most of her life. She looked older than the mothers of my friends and schoolmates. But, I never lacked for attention and love from her. 

She and I were a funny pair. She had a limited level of English and I had a limited level of my mother tongue, Malayalam. So, as I grew into a teenager there were several occasions where the communication was strained, especially when we didn't agree on a point. She of course saw her daughter getting more and more influenced by the modern world and I saw her warnings as severe restrictions to my freedom and fun. When we reached that level, I once declared that we suffered from a 'generation gap'. I have no idea where I found such a term but I know it made my father laugh loudly the first time I used it.

Unfortunately, when I was just 19, my mother's condition was getting worse. She did go to a doctor but she didn't like hospitals and checkups. She had convinced herself after her own mother's death in a hospital that those places were no good. So, other than the four times that she went to the hospital to give birth to her four children, she refused to set foot in there. Naturally, her difficult childhood of working in a weaving mill for sometime and surely experiencing some level of hunger may have made her system overall weaker. All I could see was that she was getting slightly less active.

But, did I really see and notice anything is what I ask? I was young. I had myself to look at in the mirror, dress up like every teenage girl, I had my preoccupations and my crazy schedules of going out every evening to boot. During this time when I was 19, my cousin who was a nurse, dropped in without warning and gave her a general check up. I'm guessing she saw some paperwork that the doctor had given my father. The only thing I remember is that she took me aside and told me that I had one more year with my mother. That she was sure that my mother would not survive the year. I remember crying listening to what she said, not too loud to not let my mother hear me crying, feeling angry because she was telling me that and feeling with fear the conviction in her voice and then looking at my mother. 

My Amma didn't look any older or different from the day before or the months and years in my eyes. She had always looked tired, always slept the whole night in her lazy chair (due to having difficulty lying down) and always suffered the climb up the stairs of the three floors of the building. But, she was still ready at 5pm having changed into a sari, waiting for my father to take her out every single day. My dad also worked a side hustle and was happy for her to just tag along from house to house as he dropped in to meet his clients. She didn't mind that he was working as it gave her time out of the house. All my life she would do that and this evening too she sat there in her pink sari probably annoyed at my cousin for eating into her outside-going-time. 

Shortly after my cousin left home, I stood there thinking that maybe I shouldn't go out that evening. Maybe I should talk to my father. Maybe my Amma needed me to help her with something. But before I could think much longer, my parents announced that they were leaving and would be back by 9pm as usual. I looked at the nice red and black dungarees I had worn, looked at my puffy eyes in the mirror and brushed my hair. I went out as usual to roam around in the colony with my friends. 

The moment had passed and life moved on.

Liked this story, read one more on my childhood here

https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2012/07/turn-of-events.html

Dr. Ashok Kembhavi, an unsung Hero and Senior Half Marathoner

 

Dr. Ashok Kembhavi TATA Mumbai Marathon

Life often brings us in touch with amazing people. People who defy what life throws at them, endure hardships and emerge victorious! Their hardships, their tough routes and their climb to achievement fill us with pride and admiration. Their stories teach us lessons, have us reflect on our privileges and maybe even question our own altruism. Can I as an individual see myself selflessly giving to others? What is it that drives this person to make their self-appointed mission a thing to do forever?

 

One such individual, Dr. Ashok Kembhavi, is the Hero of this blogpost. And, as you will learn, a real Hero to many, many more who are unheard and unseen. Let me tell you his story. To start with, let's try and imagine where Dr. Ashok Kembhavi was born and brought up. We close our eyes and take a bird's flight above the city of Mumbai. Nestled between the posh, up market localities of the Bandra-Kurla Complex, Mahim and Sion lies its complete antithesis. Large areas of impoverished, broken-down hutments. We have reached Dharavi - the world's largest slum settlement. For those of you who don't know Mumbai well enough to have accompanied me on our imaginary flight, do you remember the slums shown in the movie 'Slumdog Millionaire'? This is where Ashok grew up. 

 

We can well imagine young Ashok living with his parents and siblings in a tiny home which didn't have enough room for everyone in the family to sleep indoors. Then there is the noise, the squalor, the pollution, the general cacophony of a densely populated area where residences are a thin wall across shops, auto repair garages, small scale industries. Where everything from security, health, availability of water and electricity would and could be compromised daily. Due to this space crunch, Dr. Ashok had to opt to sleep on the streets and study under the streetlights. He studied in a Kannada medium Municipal school until his 11th grade and then worked his way into one of the most prestigious Science colleges of Mumbai, Ruparel college to do his 12th grade. In India the 10th and 12th grades are very important to determine a student's trajectory in their careers. After becoming a merit lister (the crème de la crème) of the thousands of students who give this exam, he then joined the Grant Medical College, JJ Hospital and did his M.B.B.S. and D.V.D (Diploma in Dermatology and Venereology).

 

His education followed with a government job as a medical officer which he undertook for 20 years till 1991. But from 1978, since Dharavi and its people mattered the most to him, he also worked part time in his own clinic there. The government job meant that he was living a good life, making a decent salary and his capabilities and hard work had helped him reach what one would consider that he had bridged the large divide of classes. He had made his way into a new social, cultural and financial level of existence. Most people would have been happy there but Dr. Ashok knew that he had more to do. He figured that the government job was standing in the way of his real dream, to serve the people of Dharavi completely. So, in 1991, he gave up his job and security and started working full-time at the Clinic.  The people's living conditions, the health issues and financial hardships they faced, was now not in his rear-view mirror while driving elsewhere but right there in front of him. That was a poignant moment, a coming home of sorts.

 

From then onwards, Dr. Ashok Kembhavi sees 150-200 patients every day. Most of his patients can't afford to pay him the minimum fee. This used to be as low are Rs.10 earlier and these days it's Rs.20- Rs.50. They get treated nevertheless. He has a full day practice where he gets to work at 9am and doesn't get back to his home in Powai earlier than 10pm. His generosity doesn't end here. As he has grown up in Dharavi and knows firsthand that education is the way to opportunities that lead out of poverty, he has plunged himself in taking up educating the children of Dharavi when he can. These selected kids are usually children of his patients. His help could mean paying part or all of their fees, helping with buying college books, school uniforms etc. Dr Ashok also sometimes goes to the colleges around Dharavi and Bandra and requests the principals to reduce the fees for these students. Today, there are some Doctors, Nurses, Engineers, Graduates and a Lawyer amongst those he helped. He is happily doing all this on his own.

 

By now, as you can imagine, I'm gobsmacked by this person who is talking to me on a WhatsApp call. I nearly forget that I heard about him because he is a runner. That was supposed to be the focus of this piece, so I start to probe in that direction. That fitness journey began because he was starting to feel breathless around the age of 52. He noticed some rise in his blood pressure and decided to increase his physical activities to be able to go on without any medicines. It was just about the end of 2002 and he decided to do the Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon in January 2003. He started practicing for that race and ran the 7kms 'Fun Run'. That felt more like a 'Fun Walk' for Dr. Kembhavi. He decided to do the 21kms the following year. Which he then completed every year from 2004 to 2020. His other runs include the Delhi Marathon (21kms) which he did for 3 years, the Powai Hiranandani 21kms and the Thane Hiranandani 21kms. From 2008 till date, Ashok also participates in the Bengaluru T.C.S 10kms every year. It was only from 2020 that he decided to stick to 10kms runs. He still walks, runs regularly and cycles, waking up at 5am to keep himself fit for the long days ahead.

Some photos of Dr. Ashok participating in different marathons over the years and support coming in from friends and family. 

 

When I further discussed with him about his projects and if he is out there on social media, the answer is no. He admits that he isn't a tech-savvy person and only recently he switched from the press-button Nokia mobile phone to a smartphone. You get by that the man isn't someone doing anything to be seen or for fame. He doesn't consider what he is doing as charity. It's his mission, his duty. 

His future project is founded on the sturdy base of love and security that his parents gave him in his childhood. Driven to the city of Mumbai due to drought and hoping for a better life, Mr. Ramchandra and Mrs. Basamma, his parents, travelled from Bijapur like several thousands of migrants do even today. Mr. Ramchandra managed to find a menial job in the Indian Railways, as a welder. He welded engine wheels for 33 years and thus managed to educate and tend to the needs of his family. While this gave him some pocket money, very little of his father's salary went into his own education. Thanks to his great scores throughout his studies, Dr. Ashok obtained several fee waivers. Since money was tight, his father used to bring him homemade meals made with love by his mother during lunch breaks. So, funds were few but love was aplenty. Inspired by these memories, Dr. Ashok would like to use his ancestral home in Dharavi as a 'Reading Room'. Even if very small, this will be a space that will serve as a haven of peace for aspiring students. A room where any child can walk in and study in a quiet environment. This 'Kembhavi Reading Room' would be dedicated to his parents. 

This 74-year-old humble, generous and discreet man deserves so much respect. I nudge him and his supportive wife Mrs. Malathi Kembhavi to share their email at least because it is only fair that anyone who desires to assist in the cause, should have a means to reach them. They've done well and so much on their own over the years and ask that they be contacted if the intention is to help educate the children of Dharavi or to contribute to the betterment of its people. There's always a need for educating students in a place like Dharavi, because the percentage of drop outs due to non-payment of fees or the challenges of being one of the first generation of learners in a family is huge. Dr. Ashok and Mrs. Malathi can be contacted on malathikembhavi@gmail.com

 

I trust that this beautiful story will have disconnected you, my lovely readers, from your daily lives for long enough to take it all in and inspire you in some way.

From Dharavi to Dharavi, from living there, to giving there....

Liked what you read

Similar posts here  https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/retirement-reset-reinvent-rebirth.html

and here  https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/inspirational-senior-mr-surendra.html

and here https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/05/the-go-getter-mr-ramachandran.html

Ragini and Kishore in an amusement park in Chennai - Part 6

 

Kishore had been trying over the next few days to ask Ragini to go out with him again. It wasn't easy as he wasn't very confident over the phone and Ragini didn't find it comfortable to talk to him for long standing in the front room of her cousin's house. He finally suggested something that seemed like fun - going to an amusement park. Now, Ragini was interested. He said he had a motorbike and would take her and get her back safely. Ragini told him to meet her cousin the morning of their outing when he came to pick her up. He agreed.

 

On the day they had chosen, Kishore reached Asha's home and he rang the doorbell. Asha joined Ragini who had opened the door. They exchanged a few polite sentences and Kishore reassured Asha that he would get Ragini home by 4pm. He gave Asha his landline number and address just in case. Asha asked him if he would like to have some breakfast to wish Kishore refused. 

 

During those exchanges, Ragini watched a sleepy Rohan watching the scene from the bedroom door. He was a timid boy, so he didn't come and stand next to them. Ragini smiled at Rohan and waved a goodbye to him as she left the house. She felt that she should have taken him too to the Amusement park, but knew that Asha would probably not allow that. Feeling a bit sad Ragini climbed on Kishore's bike and they rode towards the main road.

 

Once at the amusement park, Kishore and Ragini got a chance to talk a bit while walking from the parking lot to the park's ticket counter. Kishore smiled at Ragini and told her that he was very excited to spend the day out with her. He asked her if she had eaten a breakfast. Ragini acknowledged that she had indeed eaten a breakfast and that in fact, she had eaten a very heavy breakfast of 4 idlis (steamed rice cakes) and spicy coconut chutney. To this Kishore laughed at her and said that he was sure that had been a colossal mistake. According to Kishore, getting onto any amusement park ride on a full stomach was a sure shot way to throw up. Amused at the thought, Kishore giggled as he and Ragini made their way to the first ride.

 

Ragini on the other hand had no pre-conceived notions about sitting on an amusement park ride. She found it really exciting and since they were lucky to be at the park when it was relatively empty, she chose the first seat on the roller coaster. As she made her way to the seat, she saw Kishore's eyes darting nervously. He quickly hid his fear and followed her and they both sat next to each other. Kishore on one side, hungry and sweaty and Ragini on the other, well fed and sweaty too. The ride was quite a crazy one, with sharp turns, ups and downs which felt very scary and like one would fly out at any instant. This ride was the most popular among all the others in the park and it looked like the creators of the ride had really pulled out all the stops to impress. At the end of the ride, Ragini was on a huge high. She looked over to Kishore with a huge wide grin. However, Kishore looked really squirmish and not as confident as at the start.

 

Soon after, Ragini was riding most of the rides alone and Kishore was waiting for her to start feeling sick like he had predicted. Ragini rode each ride laughing at the irony of the situation as she felt great.

Read all previous episodes of this story here

Part 5 https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/ragini-in-chennai-part-5-meeting-kishore.html

Part 4 https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/ragini-in-chennai-part-4.html

Part 3 https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/ragini-meets-rama-in-chennai-part-3-of.html

Emotional Banter - 2 - The Right Moment

 We always seem to wait for the 'right' moment. Instead of thinking of this as a time in the future, start by honouring the moment you're in now. Feed it the right energy, offer it your full attention and nurture it with your best. You'll probably experience the 'right' moment then and there!

When we choose personal growth over short term gratification - Real life example

 

We all know that most relations or connections are made through smooth communication. If you can express yourself in easy words, if there is no base stress or tension between the individuals and if there is a fair exchange of energy, usually things work out. Ideas get exchanged, opinions are respected and the outcome is usually positive or at least neutral. 

Then, there are times when people in power need to communicate. The power can be financial, a giver of hope and opportunity or exposure and growth. This is usually true when someone is offering us a job. Recently, I heard a story of a person applying for a job. Let's call her Fiona.

Fiona had searched for a job for some months without much success. She was starting to get nervous about her future and her dwindling savings. She applied for a job and finally made it through a couple of rounds of interviews. Her hopes were not too high, but higher than recent times. Ever an optimist, but not overconfident, she even started imagining being selected for the post.

Unfortunately, the dream was cut short. The person in charge of communicating with her sent her a very generic email. Something that said that even though she was good, they had chosen another candidate. Fiona was disappointed. She had to push back tears and lick her wounds. She had to reassure herself of her capacity to bounce back and her worth. The crying was done and she moved on.

About a week later, however, Fiona got an email from the same person offering her the job. Reading that part of the communication made her initially very happy, but the sentence just after left her with a dirty taste in the mouth. The mail said categorically that Fiona was actually the third choice in the lot and since the first had refused the offer and the second had found something more convenient in the meantime, the job was now being offered to her. Fiona needed the job desperately but was also aware that she had much more to lose if she worked for a company that had simply no empathy, no human side. The decision was clear. She declined the offer. 

Fiona soon found a job that was more suited for her and with a management that had more empathy and the story had a happy ending. It just goes to show that we need to choose ourselves even when life is hard and choices aren't ample. We need to prioritise ourselves, period.

The Go-getter - Mr Ramachandran - Inspirational and funny senior

 

When the going gets tough, the tough get going... is a phrase that we are all familiar with. Tough times touch everyone's lives. This is when we realise how transient 'security' is and how fast our ideas of 'stability' and 'normality' can be gone.  This is usually the period when we see a huge difference in a person's capacity to adapt and face what's happening. There are some who have real difficulties getting out of the spiral of negativity and despair. Some who prefer to avoid facing the situation, procrastinate when it comes to taking action and while this might bring them short-term relief , it also could bring long-term, serious issues.  And then there are the tough ones, people who seem to be able to bounce back from, hold on throughout and literally from an outsider's point of view thrive on their journeys of change.

One such individual amongst the several I have been lucky to get in touch with recently is Mr Ramachandran, a Mumbai resident who will be turning 80 this year.

When one speaks and interacts with Mr. Ramachandran, the first thing that is evident is that he's someone who's happy and funny. Within minutes, there will be one joke and maybe another being thrown at you and a giggle will follow. I think in the first five minutes of talking to him he said, "There is no point cribbing about life". Hearing that, I was immediately eager to hear his story.

Though he was always an active person, playing tennis and badminton on and off while younger, Mr Ramachandran had had a heart bypass surgery at the age of 64 in 2009. Luckily for him he had been operated on by a very skilled surgeon Dr. Ramakant Panda at Asian Heart, a premier hospital in Bandra, Mumbai. The set up at the hospital ensured that post surgery, the recovering patients were taught to workout correctly with the goal of gaining cardiovascular strength under medical supervision. At this daily exercise session Mr. Ramachandran made several new friends. One of these friends Mr P. Venkataraman started a group called 'Zipper Club' where they continued to meet and exercise outside of the hospital premises.

With these new friends, Mr. Ramachandran grabbed on to the new lease of life that he had been offered and decided then and there he would make the most of it. He started regularly walking, running and eventually participating in the TATA Mumbai Marathon and other such events every year as part of the Zipper club. He regularly visits the Asian Heart Hospital to help the staff members cheer patients and motivate them. When he sees a lady helping her recovering husband move in the corridors, Ramachandran quickly asks the wife to let go of her husband's hand. He then prescribes 40 minutes of brisk walking daily, eating food with reduced oil, taking all the medicines without fail, sleeping well, laughing a lot and looking, if you will, at other women. This obviously gets a reaction from the couple and Ramachandran laughs and adds that since the heart is new, it warrants 'staying away from the wife and adopting a new angle to life'. You got it right, Mr. Ramachandran's humour accompanies him everywhere and always.

Mrs Jayanthi Ramachandran & Mr. Ramachandran

His own wife, Mrs. Jayanthi Ramachandran is the perfect funny Juliet to our hilarious young Romeo. When he had his surgery, she distributed sweets to everyone. People were stunned that she was giving out sweets when the operation was a serious matter of the Heart, pun intended. When questioned, she replied, "Finally we all have proof, he has a heart!" Both of them are a power couple that discovered each other more as friends and partners in Mrs. Ramachandran's words, during the later years of their marriage when they were both more mature. Once the children had grown and responsibilities were behind them, it was then that they really began to know one another. Mrs. Ramachandran takes part in the occasional event and has run officially for 6kms. Their camaraderie and appreciation for each other was unmistakable over the phone, so I guess in real life, it must be even more present. 

Even though Mr. Ramachandran has decided to not run since January 2025, he hasn't given up his strict routine. Though the couple travel every alternate year to visit their children in the States for 10 weeks, he ensures that his routine is not disturbed. He walks 10kms three times a week and at least 5kms the other days when he is there.  When he is back in Mumbai, he remains active for 6 days in the week. He starts his day with a walk and trains 3 days a week with the Zipper Club alongside his friends and Mr. P. Venkataraman who according to Mr. Ramachandran was instrumental in his rebirth. 

A set routine of some consulting work, some social errands, proper rest and daily exercise helps keep him in a pleasant state of mind. Every evening his wife and he play cards for an hour or so before dinner. Isn't that #couplegoals right here? 

I think that Mr. Ramachandran can teach us what a life we can make for ourselves with a robust - even if bordering on risque - sense of humour, a solid mental fortitude, a great partnership and family ties, an active and healthy lifestyle along with good and lasting friendships. At the end of our conversation he confirms that he lives life with no regrets and strives to actively enjoy everything he does. I'm going to try and remember this everytime life gets tough. I aim to always be among the tough ones that get going.

Like this story?

Read these similar posts on Inspirational Seniors here

https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/retirement-reset-reinvent-rebirth.html

https://lekhawrites.blogspot.com/2025/04/inspirational-senior-mr-surendra.html

The moon follows me

 

Walking in the dark, 

back from the church fair

The mood I was in was swell,

candy floss still stuck to my hair

I held my father's hand while walking

and behind us I'd seen..

the rest of the family 

lazily moving forward, 

not one of them too keen

We had to go home 

and settle in for the night, 

the fun had finished 

though the full moon still shone bright.

I noticed it as soon as 

I left the church grounds, 

the moon seemed to shine 

sharper in the retreating of the insane crowds

A turn here, a left there

when I looked up 

it was still there...

after what seemed to me a small kilometre or two,

I just couldn't figure out why it seemed stuck 

in the same spot like glue

A tiny me was spooked now indeed,

this moon was following us,

I couldn't figure out its purpose or need

Unable to contain my fear,

I held my father's hand ever so near

So dazzled was I with my assumption,

this moon consumed my thoughts without discretion

I sniffled and tried to look up to my father's face

avoiding the white culprit just above in outer space

Oh, then I realised in my fear 

I had held someone else's hand. 

Dear oh Dear!

Looking around quickly, 

retreating away from this person 

With my gaze scrutinising the scene

When I saw my father's smiling face appearing...I was again serene

Listening to me blabber,

Questions to him flew 

 “ It’s ok, it’s ok”, I heard 

 Sighs and silence ensued 

He held me in a long embrace,

the moon didn't want me as its slave, 

said my father

It follows us not, it's just right in its place

From Calcutta to Suriname- A journey of Indian Roots

Suriname country side in the 70's

                                          

Let's take a trip back in time. The year is 1857 and India is under the British rule. Impoverished and young Indians are constantly looking for work, hoping to prevent their families dying from starvation. Amongst thousands of others, one young Bihari woman called Kabottari along with her 1 year old son Gobind boards a boat to an unknown land. She has been promised a wage for her labour at a sugarcane plantation in a country far far away from home. She is part of the people who are being sent on contract by the British to the tiny country of Suriname on the northern coast of the South American continent. The British had trade dealings with the Dutch who had colonised the country of Suriname. They provided the Dutch with cheap labour, though one could still call the labourers slaves back then. Slavery was officially abolished in Suriname later in 1863.

Suriname on the world map

https://ontheworldmap.com/suriname/suriname-location-map.html

Learn more about Suriname

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Suriname

Kabottari boarded the 'Zanzibar' from Calcutta hoping for a future, but unfortunately she didn't survive the journey on the ship. Baby Gobind was orphaned and miraculously survived and grew to be the first of several generations of the family 'Gobind'. His descendants like most of the other Indian diaspora lived in the settlement called 'Domburg'.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domburg,_Suriname

My story features Mina, a 5th generation descendant of Gobind and her daughter Gaitry.

                                                                

Mina at 20

                                                        

                                                                    

Very young Gaitry 

Mina grew up in Suriname and lived there till she was 22 years old. In 1978, she left her children and her husband to travel to Holland in search of a better life. Since Suriname was a Dutch colony Mina had Dutch travel documents. She reached Amsterdam and worked for a year or more at a Cheese factory. Once she settled in, she sent for her family who travelled to join her there. Gaitry was four years old at the time. Mina, who is also known with her home name of 'Bittiya' left Suriname not long after the country's independence from the Dutch in 1975. Like many Indian origin people she grew up in keeping with Indian traditions. Her grandfather had built a Vishnu temple near their home. She grew up celebrating Holi and Diwali and several other Indian festivals. 

The fact that she and other Indo - Surinamese  were so far away from their origins in an era when there was no way to evolve culturally with the country of origin they have some styles of music that are hardly heard anymore in the Indian subcontinent. I know that because I was in a car travelling through Holland when the radio broadcasted a Bhojpuri song, but it sounded very authentic, very pure and of a folk genre. It contained none of the western beats or auto tune that now tend to be at least to some minimal degree in every song, whether Hindi or a regional language of India. That was in fact the first time I heard about the Indo-Surinamese and I looked up Indians or Biharis in Holland and learnt more about them. The Indo-Surinamese speak Dutch and Sarnami Hindostani, which is like a dialect of Bhojpuri. Mina learnt it and in addition learnt to speak and write Hindi. Now retired, she  travels and stays in India for several months in the year. Her religious side has gotten stronger over time and she tries and catches up with what she can by spending whatever time possible in India, the ancient land of her forefathers.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarn%C3%A1mi_Hindust%C3%A1ni#:~:text=Sarn%C3%A1mi%20Hindust%C3%A1ni%20(Sarnami%20Hindustani%2C%20Sarnami,Surinamese%20variety%20of%20Caribbean%20Hindustani.

Gaitry, Mina's daughter, grew up in Amsterdam. She lives in Brussels and is very curious about Indian culture that originates from the continent of India.  I find myself equally curious about Gaitry and her mother's lives back in Suriname. It's a curious case of people having settled well away from their homelands and finding similarity however small to link themselves to others. Gaitry in some way represents what my descendants would be like, a blend of the present and the past, of the cultures and races from European and Asian continents.

Suriname similarly has a diaspora of people of West African, Indonesian, Chinese and other origins. A 'melting pot' from around 150- 200 years ago.

https://minorityrights.org/country/suriname/#:~:text=Suriname%20is%20a%20pluralistic%20society,mixed%20African%20and%20European%20heritage).

Some photos from the family album

                                                 
          

At the Vishnu temple built by Gaitry's grandfather

Gaitry today

Mina today

My Daddy Strongest - Landline adventures

 

Old Town, Barcelona 

There was a time when I still lived at home with my parents and my siblings, that there used to be a lot of 'prank' calls to our telephone landline. I was in college and I don't know who I met during those days who decided that he or she wanted to harrass me. My home phone number fell into the wrong hands and the problems started. Every other day, we started getting phone calls where someone would either hang up the phone immediately, stay on the call without saying anything or breathe deeply into the receiver or giggle and hang up. 

There were weeks where nothing happened, some days where there were a number of these calls and then a call coming in once in a while. I think it was a guy because one of those times, I remember being spoken to but after a few minutes the person hung up. While we didn't know who was behind this, it had become evident that these calls were targeting me. I was embarrassed about it but no one in my home blamed me for what was happening.

One afternoon, I was sitting in the living room of our small Mumbai apartment watching TV and had a hazy awareness that my father was on a phone call. I was too immersed in the TV programme to hear any part of the conversation even though Daddy was only about five steps away from me. I do recall that at that age, what my father spoke on the phone didn't interest me at all. My father hung up the phone and by pure chance I looked up and asked him who he had been speaking to. It was a question asked more out of politeness and a will to chat with Daddy than out of curiosity.

Daddy then told me about the call. Turns out it was a young man on the phone who had called and started telling him things about me. He had told my father that I was not the girl my father believed me to be. That I was not trustworthy and that I did all sorts of disgraceful things. He continued to talk and my father continued to listen. I believed my father when he told me that because I had heard no reaction, no raised voice and no reference to my name. Then my father had asked the caller what he did. Daddy discovered that he was a student. He further asked him where he lived to which he didn't answer. But my father continued to have a conversation with him. Daddy enquired about his family, and who he lived with. The young man replied that he lived with his mother. When Daddy enquired after the caller's father, the voice on the phone said that his father had passed away a few years ago. 

By this time, I was a bit worried about what consequence this call would have on me at the end of the day. I asked my father, "And what did you say?". To which my father stoically answered that he had told the young man "It's normal with a son like you, no father would stay alive. I think it's better your father didn't live to see how you turned out." Needless to say, the mischief-maker promptly cut the call.

I stared incredulously at this amazing, calm man, my father! Daddy had proven to me once again with his patient and relaxed attitude that one could disarm the strongest in war by using wit and biding time. Daddy was in no way influenced by what the world had to say about his daughter. He knew me and that was it! I looked at him standing there and saw in front of me a WARRIOR in the true sense of the name. A defender to his clan, a man who provided an abode of peace to anyone who was his.