My father’s 70th birthday speech: Tread softly!

In marriage, I could have, maybe, been a better, more suitable (to her temperament, more red-blooded, more macho, fun-loving free-wheeling kind) partner to my wife. Also, maybe I could have raised my children a little differently; could have spent more ‘quality time’ with them than I did, could have got more ‘involved’, been more forthright in ‘directing’ their education and career. I prided myself for giving full freedom of choice to others, but I am not sure, after so many years, if my kids were ready or mature enough to make their own choices, what I expected of them at some tender age. I just wanted them to be ‘Gentlemen’ in life, for life! That was taught to us by the Air Force and rigorously enforced. The concept looks so outdated now, I wonder if that was the right thing to expect of them. The thing that I really missed teaching them was the sports and games, the department I was myself deficient in. That would have made them tougher and more street smart to deal in today’s competitive world. They did eventually manage, but all on their own. Abhijit spent three plus two long and tough years to learn hard and fast rules of the game, which said that only one, you or the opponent would survive! Kedar, always the one for playing the ball ‘straight’, misread some bouncers coming his way. Later, however, he learnt to play golf, well enough to tell me about it. I cannot fathom why some very grown men will chase a very small white ball around looking for a very small hole in the ground, while talking about their business and thinking about beer! It must be the Sun! No wonder even the top golfers are somehow ‘Handicapped’!

I became a father too early, I think. I was a bit impatient, full of myself with everyone and maybe even quite immature. But, I hasten to say in my defence that such was the age we lived in then, that I was as involved with or as unconcerned about my kids, as any other father around me in the Air Force environment was. My son Kedar was destined to became a father with higher level of maturity and patience, than I had. So, Kymaia (bless her) is lucky. She gets a lot of quality time from her mature parents, a very indulgent Kedar and a very savvy Natasha. Young Abhijit would have certainly appreciated this, wryly remembering ways of his father with him sometimes. But he would chuckle and forgive his father, out of love, as he always did!

Could I have chosen a different path in life? A different career? Answer to that a firm NO! I cannot swap that with anything else in my life. I felt indeed blessed for the path shown and guided along it by the unknown and frequently under-appreciated hand of the mighty force called fate! Many things just fell onto my lap, unasked, some indeed were taken away, no doubt, untold, but no regrets. A tinge of sadness, but no remorse! I have learnt to take life as it is. I hardly ever try to control or plan it. That I leave it to my better half who knows a thing or two about ‘control’ and planning!

It is not the autobiography or attempt at history that I intend to start here, worry not, because that really is a very demanding task very a few dare undertake. I am merely looking back, over the path traversed thus far and probably indulge in some self-analysis and a bit of crystal-gazing.

We then lived in an era of black and white. Not talking only about photos or movies, but of life. Black was black and white was white. Indeed, some splashes of colours occasionally burst upon it to break the monotony. Life was simple, paths well beaten, divisions and duties very clear. No ‘shades of greys’ confused us. The husband was husband, the man of the house (with no apology for being the man!) who brought home the bread, and wife was wife, who was his woman, his kids’ mother and a good clever homemaker, who ran the house like a good ship, cooked delicious meals and spoilt the kids thoroughly. She welcomed home her sweaty, tired man and kids back from school with soiled clothes and running noses with equal ardour. A father was considered good if he remembered which kid went to what school and how much was the fees to be paid! Bragging by men and nagging by wives were accepted past times, to be indulged heartily by each party and equally ignored by the other! Mothers-in-law were for target practice and daughters-in-laws routinely accused of stealing and spoiling their darling sons! Neighbours were always suspicious but helpful when not even asked for! Bosses were slave-drivers and workers considered scroungers!

Auto-rickshaw drivers never wanted to ply in your directions unless cajoled, coaxed and bribed. The buses always ran empty and on time on the opposite side to where you were waiting for one to appear! Railways kept to their own times and you sometimes bought the ticket hoping to get to an exotic destination printed on that little piece of cardboard, heavily embossed with the date you were hoping to board the train, waiting for it under the huge two-sided ubiquitous clock hung on the platform. The aeroplanes, such as they were, always carried the cinematic hero far away from a crying beloved or a doting mother; or sometimes brought him back from ‘Vilayat’ to a much teary-eyed welcome with hugs and garlands.

Feet touching gestures were obligatory, but hugging was allowed only for the moms; the bride waited till they got to a garden or a bedroom! Of course, London was a distant ‘Vilayat’ across the seven seas, and Tokyo or Kashmir were brought vividly to life for the underprivileged masses in the crowded, smelly cinema halls. The ‘foreign returned’ was a board proudly displayed and foreign goods were discreetly displayed in the UMC living (cum-dining-cum-sleeping) room.

UMC: read Upper Middle Class, a term fashioned by the very class of masses, that find themselves neither here (where they are) nor there (where they aspire to be). Reminds me of a story named ‘Dyodha Darja’ (there used to be an ‘Inter class’ between the third and the second, on older Indian Railways. The story is probably by Munshi Premchand, (not sure) as an allegorical reference to awkwardness felt by the class so described!

Anyway, the world we lived in was neatly divided into East and the West. The difference being how you made and spent your money, openly or secretly! The uncomfortable ‘middle ground’ was occupied by what was called ‘Third World’ countries, exactly describing their status in the world! The wars were ‘cold’ but James Bond movies were ‘hot’ and The matinee shows matched the college timing perfectly!

The cars were only of two types, Ambassadors (much favoured by the Govt, for its stately looks and tank-like solidity) and the Fiat was for those who just made it in life! The other fancy American cars, loud and long enough to block the road, belonged to movie stars in and out of the cinemas. We envied and fancied them but never aspired for despaired of them. Only two brands of scooters: Vespas and Lambrettas – fathers booked it, sons used it! But, they took a whole family, plus a gas cylinder with élan. For macho types, there was a sturdy Royal Enfield Bullet (Abhijit had one, gifted by his Mama) and others settled for a smart power-packed Jawa ( I owned one for 35 Years) or a rickety and noisy Rajdoot for those who couldn’t afford either.

Those were Govt controlled ‘socialist’ days of permit raj. Our aspirational horizons were limited to what the Maaybaap Sarkar decreed was good for us. College education was almost a mandatory ladder for going ‘up’ in life. ‘Gormint Job’ was a holy cow. If not, one either became a Doctor or an engineer. The best went West and the rest got tied to a desk! The others joined the Army. Wayward even then, I chose the Air Force and flew away! The rest, as they say, is history!

Taking this opportunity, I would like to say my grateful THANKS to many, who have made my life, richer, healthier, happier and more fulfilling. My Aajee, (Nana’s Mother) like in most cases, was my favourite, as I was of hers, being the first ‘direct’ grandson. Just like Kymaia-Aaji chemistry today, it was a bond, strong and hard to forget. Thanks to Aai-Nana, without whose unwavering support, in spite of my ways, I could not have flown away to make my passion into a lifelong career.

My mother must have suffered silently innumerable heartaches for sending her only son away at a very young age to a military flying career. Not once did she stop me from going. Kept sending me hand-made sweets to give me strength. Later in life, I made it a point to see her every week. She always prayed for us all and only asked to me sit next to her and spend a few more minutes. Moms want nothing else! Is it too much? My ever-loving sisters Tai, Shree and Pratibha, whose only brother could do no wrong! I must say the way Shree and Pratibha looked after Aai, was way beyond their daughterly duties. Thanks.

The Kulkarnis Sr and Jr, all have been the greatest support system for us. Cannot thank you all enough. Neha is starting her ‘family’ very soon, but she, Santosh and of course my first favourite Aditi, joined now by Hrishi, and his family, is our extended family. All my relatives and many of my numberless friends plus, Air Force and Air India colleagues Thanks, who have helped me, made my life a little richer, a little more enjoyable and ever so satisfying. Thanks again.

It may be almost obligatory, to mention one’s long-suffering partner (read Wife!) at this juncture, and it may even sound contrived, but, I am truly grateful to her for standing by my side, not dumb, but very active in everything I did or I do now. She brought ‘Poetry’ and two great kids into my life. I am at a loss of words (I am always, in her presence!), but I must say it. I need not wait for Valentine’s day, to say: Thank You my long-suffering life partner Kavita, who is mortally worried as to what I would do without her. Who would tolerate this man yet to grow up! So, I feel happy in the thought that she would endeavour to be with me, forever! Thank You! We are both acutely aware that one has to precede the other, but there is no competition!

Thanks, Kedar and Natasha, for finally making us grandparents. And our Kymaia, not so little now, my eyes moisten, my voice falters because a lump in my throat, when I say “Thank you, God”, for YOU, Kymu!

I beg forgiveness from all those who might have been hurt by my immaturity or impatience. My parents and my ever-doting sisters, whose existence I overlooked for a period of time in my life, while chasing my dreams. But they never forgot me. I have tried to make up for that lapse later in life, so, I ask for atonement. Some toes on which I have stepped on or trod on someone’s pride, it was in the darkness of my ignorance that I couldn’t see it. Please forgive me. If I ask for it, I should also show enough magnanimity to forgive those who may have unintentionally caused me pain. My bonus years, as someone calls this passage of time, is not long enough to hold old grudges, so let’s forget those and move on!

So far, so good! We have lived a full life with all its ups and downs, and straight drives, dark spots and bright patches, rains and rainbows It’s funny, looking back, how we always say, oh, those were the days and life was great. A few years from now, we will say the same, looking back, so, why not realise it now that life is great right now, and we are happy, healthy and here to make the best of it.

I am not about say Goodbye to life yet; I am only pausing by a milestone. Due to my slowness in everything, there is so much I have to do, it may take another lifetime! I pray, however, when the last train arrives to take me, I want to board it myself, not on a stretcher with tubes training behind!! So, instead of my likely photo on the wall, I would very much love ALL OF YOU here, to be in the ‘Selfie’ with me! NOW!

Yes, so, what is Next??

THIS is Next! Kavita, always planning our future, I tell her, Darling, this is future! We are living in it! We have ‘arrived’, we don’t have to go rushing anywhere, anymore. Let’s enjoy the interlude before we forget how to. We have all things we need but not all the time. We are lucky to be surrounded by those who love us, care for us, and we must understand their ways of doing it. Continue to hold my hand, and we will walk it together. Let us each of us do the things that make us happy and keep us going. We shall not pass this milestone again.

Borrowing some inspiration from a line of poetry by YB Yeats, and begging his pardon for changing it somewhat, I plead, “Tread softly, people, on this well-worn carpet of my life, I have spread out for you, because you tread on my deeds and step on my dreams! Tread softly, please!” Thank you all!