Back to Blogsville with a bang..

I haven't been to this space in what seems like ages and I swear it has started to echo in here. And no-one seems to have missed me..hmph..so much for my dedicated fan club. I feel guilty about the neglect, but I have been way too busy, learning new things at work, meeting new people, devoting time to other long-neglected hobbies..catch the drift?

Today was a welcome break. Memorial day in the US of A meant I had a long, long weekend..from Saturday morning straight thru Tuesday evening, when I'd have to report in to work again. Saturday was spent with school friends, re-living old memories, catching up on each others' lives and planning for a week-end out together. Sunday was spent with relatives..re-living old memories, catching up on each others' lives and planning to get away from each other..and Monday, I had decided in advance, would be dedicated to mia familia..just me, mom and dad spending some quality time together, something that we almost never do. And the timing was great..Dad has just opted for voluntary retirement, and finally, after sixteen years of being away from the family, was at home, with us, an event in itself. I thought this would be a great time for bonding with a man I knew very little about. Yea, yea, I knew he was my dad and all that, but I never really knew the man that dad was..for too long now, mom had been the only reference-point where dad was concerned and this seemed like a good idea to get the family together again.

I chose with care..a punjabi-dhaba-themed restaurant..one that wasn't too expensive, after all, I was treating. The venue didnt let me down, an air-conditioned little place that was trying too hard to pass itself off as a dhaba. I was impressed nonetheless..the place really didn't achieve that rustic look that the owners had obvioulsy hoped for, but they won brownie points for simply trying. Mom looked puzzled, dad looked bored..so far, so good..Dinner started with me contemplating the gigantic hull placed on the wall just behind mom..it was perched precariously..the lawyer in me was already beginning to calculate how much in damages I could sue for, if that thing fell down and hurt any of us..however, dinner progressed without any such calamity. But dinner also progressed very silently. None of that bonding thing that I was hoping for, seemed to be happening. I panicked..I wasn't gonna throw in good, hard-earned money just like that..Mom and I started talking, about this and that and I kept prodding Dad on, to get him to join us..he seemed oblivious of our existence. I let that pass; perhaps he too was fascinated with the softness of the paneer..by the time dessert came around, still no bonding had happened. I was frustrated; I told him he was simply not trying; you aren't supposed to grow bored with your family around, goddamit...you're supposed to talk and make up for all those times you weren't there. He looked puzzled..probably wondering what the commotion was all about. I grew even more angry..he had been away way too long, and now, when he's finally free to get to know us better, he doesn't even try..like hell I was gonna let him get away with that..

'Dad', I said, 'All those years of loneliness seem to have gotten to you. You have forgotten how to enjoy a meal with your family. You don't even bother joining our conversations.' He nodded silently, 'Yes, I know..I know' The nodding continued, and I looked at him, shocked..what!!! This wasn't what I had expected..he was supposed to say, 'Nothing of that sort..I was listening, of course I was, only, the paneer was so soft.."..not this..I let it be..perhaps I was expecting too much..leave the man be..accept him as he comes..

I stopped expecting dinner to be the success thatI was hoping it would be. I wanted to ask him sarcastically, had he enjoyed dinner..sitting with a bunch of perfect strangers? I let that pass too..I looked out of the window, stirring my already-melting kulfi, wondering if I was making things too complicated for a simple South-Indian family..suddenly, I heard him asking, 'Do you remember that holiday in Jaipur..we had kulfi there..do you remember?' I groaned..for godssake, I have had way too may kulfis in this life-time to remember where I had them all. 'No dad, I don't..I was a kid then..you don't expect me to remember such things, do you?' Obviously, he did..'You were nine yrs old. We had gone there for the winter. And do you remember that elephant you rode?'..The elephant I did remember..and felt very stupid about the excitement I had then felt..the poor pachiderm..PETA would be up in arms against me if I attempted anything of the sort now, I thought, with a smile. Hm..the Jaipur vacation, when did that happen now? Between the trips to Amritsar and Bangalore, I guess..I don't remember..There had been so many trips during childhood..running here and there..trying to squeeze the maximum out of a few paltry days of vacation..it had been a tradition of sorts then , every summer and winter would find the family headed off to some distant place..the only time dad actually managed to spend time with his family. The vacations had been largely boring for me..I would have happily traded an entire fortnight at Jaipur for one day at Esselworld. But then, I realised, these vacations obvioulsy meant something to Dad..he remembered each and every detail..where we had been, when we had been there, where we had stayed, what we did and what we didn't..It was a blur to me, it was crystal clear to him..what had obviously been just a distraction for me and my bro as kids, were probably the only memories that the man carried with him, when he left us, at the end of it all, on some self-imposed work-related exile. As time passed, we kids moved on to make memories of our own, those of our childhood being superceded by those of our first loves, our friends and our music. Dad had continued to hold on to the old ones, most of which I had long discarded. I felt guilty, for not remembering, and for not having made an effort to remember, something that I had accused my Dad of, just some while back.

Dinner ended. I paid, and we left. I didn't ask Dad whether he had enjoyed dinner..that would be a redundant question. I know I will find my answer a few years down the line, when having kulfi over dinner, probably to celebrate my pregnancy, my Dad will look at me and ask if I remember that night at a Punjabi dhaba..(he, of course, will struggle with the pronounciation for 'dhaba'..even I suck at Hindi..'Do you remember that Dabba you once took us to?'). I will smile and tell him, 'Yes dad, I do..and that trip to Jaipur when I rode an elephant and you had kulfi..'