A career in organised crime

Please, keep us near

Mohini and I spent this new year eve staying at home to look after our grandson and each other. A visit to the Gurudwara (Sikh temple), followed by a quiet dinner and a surprise visit by our friends Anupam and Priya.

As we grey, we spend half the time looking back and reminiscing. We recalled a new year we celebrated 16 years ago.

"Dad, I want to welcome the new year in with you and mom. Can we come with you to the party you are going with your friends on new years eve?" asked our son Mohit. He was 15 and our younger son Pavit was 13 at that time.

"Of course not", I retorted. "You better go along with your friends, that is who you should be spending your new year time with." 

I simply ignored Mohit's sad and crest fallen look. I was making a man out of my son, he had to learn to be strong and independent. In fact, I felt damn proud of myself as I left for work.

That evening Mohini my wife asked, "What did you say  to Mohit? Why can't the boys come with us? I have spoken to our friends, they are quite comfortable if our boys come with us to the dinner and dance. Please let them come."

"No my decision is made and please don't argue with me", I said curtly.

"Do you know what your son said? Do you have any idea what is going on in that young boy's mind and heart?"

"Don't make a sissy out of him", I scolded her.

She made me sit down and explained to me as a woman often has to explain to her man the eldest child in her family. " He says, mom , very soon I will be busy, with my friends in college and then my professional studies in Engineering,  my working career will dominate and marriage thereafter.  We have only these few years remaining,  that we can four spend real quality time together. I want to spend it with you both so that I can relish it all my life.  This is why I want us to be with you both. We will never have this time again. So please keep us close to you, while you can."

My macho arrogance had blinded me and had stolen my empathy and love. It had made me both senseless and heartless. Could I not have had the same conversation with my son as Mohini had? Why had I failed to hear and feel what he so dearly felt?

Tears welled in my eyes and I wanted to kick myself. How could I make it up to them? I went to his room and their he sat reading a book. He said, "Mom explained everything to me. Dad it's ok, that you cannot take us with you. You and mom have a great time. Pavit and I  will just chill out at home and watch TV."

I walked up to him, stood him up from his chair and embraced him real tight, and kissed him on his forehead. I said, "I am sorry, I refused you in the morning. On second thought, it will be a great idea if you came with us."

We all went together, the four of us, to the new year party. We sang and we danced, and we laughed until our stomachs ached. We then danced and laughed a lot more.. It was a fabulous, unforgettable fun filled evening.

Our sons have grown up and are now married, and Mohit is a father now. Everything has happened almost exactly as he foresaw it. 

With the onset of adulthood, intensity levels and differences in preference are more dramatic. This is only natural. We don't go to many functions or parties together with our children anymore. They devote more time at work,  devote quality time to to their wives, and are comfortable with their friends. 

Nowadays when the six of us do go out together, we still laugh a lot, but it is somewhat different. The love is strong, and that magic is still there, but it is not so overpowering anymore. Not so intense and definitely less insane. 

Goodbye dear father.

On the 1st day of Sept with a gurgle and a cough my father left this world just as he arrived into it.

Concerned friends and relatives, dutifully tried to console me.
I was inconsolable because my mindless heart could not stop crying.
I was unduly brave because my heartless mind refused to let me grieve.

Some said it was an auspicious day to die. How can any day be a good day to lose someone you love?

Brilliant, hardworking, witty and charming, our father Man Singh ji 1928 -2014) was an extraordinary teacher and man. Even in his passing on from this world he continued to provide valuable lessons.

Dad's life was a very long roller coaster ride, achieving great heights and many precipitous falls. Yet the spirit of such people always remains strong. They are warriors fighting against great odds and overcoming challenges.

Dad and Uncle Manohar Singh ji, created great fortunes against huge odds only to lose them due to greater misfortune time and again. 'Never give up', was their motto. yet when this life's journey's end is near the good soul knows when to give in to His will.

My dad had been bidding farewell gently, from the past three years. His vision dimmed, hearing gone, and his speech almost silent. Dad's being was blanketed by wonderful grace and an erie calmness.

Maybe God answered Dad's prayers by taking away all anger, ego and greed from him. It was a blessing, for dad stopped judging people and events. He saw only goodness and wonder in everyone and everything.

We spent many mornings together and I learnt much by being with him. I want to share this learning with you.

In spite of having much to be angry and resentful about, dad's heart was at peace, filled with humility, love and compassion he sought forgiveness from one and all. He meditated and prayed a lot. 

Especially when young, 'Man the Animal' is selfish and filled with insatiable greed for power, wealth and influence. As people age and if they are blessed, 'Man the Saint' is filled with understanding, love and compassion, and like a pendulum our lives swing between these two extremes. 

Failings my dad had many. Drive and intelligence he had even more. Kindness and  compassion he possessed beyond belief. My dad was an enigma. Come to think of it, most children can never understand their parents. All that lucky children can get, is the opportunity to appreciate and take advantage of the bounty of love and learning that they get showered with by their parents.

The soul always knows what is right, but rarely do we listen to it, because the mind will not be still. This is what prayer and then mediation is all about, the ability to listen to the soul.

Therefore the search for truth and understanding is never an outward journey but an inward journey. A journey to the core of our existence which is possible only by meditating.

The soul is like a Hans (Swan) which wants to soar to the heavens and reunite with God but it is shackled to this material world by our lust, greed, attachments, anger and ego. 

God has been kind to my father in the past several years by unshackling him almost completely from all these normal human traits. I pray that He will receive and accept my father Man Singh ji and grant his soul peace.

* Goodbye is a short form of 'God be with you'

Sat Sri Akal Daddy ji.

Last week my 83 year old father had a brain seizure. His brilliant brain, sort of short circuited, and he was suddenly mentally incoherent. All this caused by a condition called hypoatremia, where sodium levels in the body plummet.

As I sit by his bedside in the Intensive care unit of the hospital I listen to my father. Dad has lost touch with reality. Random communications tumble out of his mouth.

I observe that Dad is not fully conscious, yet he was struggling very systematically to undo the knots and bindings that strap his wrists to the hospital bed ( to prevent him from pulling out the various tubes and needles plunged into his frail body). I admired his persistent and combative nature fighting challenges even in his semi conscious state.

My admiration soon evaporates, and I am suddenly filled with dread and gloom. I realise that I may never be able to sit and talk about God, life, philosophy or politics and a thousand other things. We might never be able to share jokes and laugh again. I sense a strange hollowness in my being.

The hospital room is stifling and I go for a walk, I meet a couple of friends and try to pretend that everything is ok, Maybe this is just a bad dream, one from which I will wake up and learn that my anguish was caused by a trick played on me by my mind.

In the life of a family where you stay and work together, there is a lot of scope to do stupid stuff, to say and do things which we look back with regret in later years.
I and my father had our share of disagreements. I was too keen on doing things right and he was keen on getting things done asap (as soon as possible). I can't help but feel that he has been a better dad than I have been a son.

Dad and I were estranged for several years. Maybe it was a blessing that we lost everything that was material and thus eventually found our love in each other again. He hasn't changed that much but I have learnt to be a better son. I no longer wish to change him, I merely want to be with him.

Traditionally Indians have described their fathers as 'Anna Datha' the provider and hence life giver. The same term is also used for God. The one who gives and protects us. This we so readily forget.

I can recall numerous instances where our father walked those extra miles to get us whatever we desired or needed to guide and protect us, sometimes excessively. We were sometimes unreasonable and selfish, yet he never refused us anything, ever.

I remember when I was about 8 years of age and studying as a boarder in Bishops School, Pune. I can vividly recall my Dad riding one chilly morning into the school on a Lambaretta scooter with a bundle of blankets, one for each of us brothers. He had sensed that the winter was exceptionally cold and he had travelled 200 kilometers to Pune to get us extra blankets so that we would be warm.

My life is full of many kind acts of my parents and I am sure there in everyone’s life. The tragedy is, we seem to have a selective memory of remembering clearly the few unpleasant things they may have said or done while remaining blank on all the wonderful things and the sacrifices they have made for us.

It is difficult to understand human behaviour. Maybe it is best to stop rationalising and start feeling. I now know that feelings of love and gratitude humble us, and make us better people.

I feel blessed that I can look after my aging parents and my widowed aunt. Not to be their feeder and caretaker but to be their companion. This is always easier when you have a compassionate and supportive spouse.

All those who are born must leave us someday. Between the borning and the departing is but a short spell. Let us not waste it on collecting things at the price of losing family and friends.

I have nowhere to go and nothing to do. I want to just bask in the love and blessings of my parents. A service only lucky children are privileged to get.

I pray that my dad gets well soon and we can have a little more time together, doing nothing more than enjoying the passage of time.

I remember my Uncle Manohar Singh ji with whom I stayed for many years and who looked after my Grandmother with great devotion and love, once remarked; "The elderly need so little , but they need that little, so much".