To recognise a hero.

“A true hero is not defined by their strength, but by their ability to inspire and lead others.” – Mahatma Gandhi

As children, we were always allowed to dip into the vast and varied collection of books that my father had, and which was always scattered around the house, in the library, in the toilets, in the living room, on the dining table, besides beds, and literally everywhere. Age was never an issue. You were never too young or too old for a book.

So, I do not know when I started to read, what I read, and how much. It is, frankly, a blur. But, like everyone, I remember some of my firsts. My first thriller novel was ‘The Day of the Jackal’ by Frederick Forsyth. I must have been 11 or 12 (1983, or was it 1984?), and I would take a book and disappear in a corner where no one could find me until I devoured it. Of course, we were also allowed to read at the dining table (I know, most families frown on this, but in our home, reading was sacrosanct, not to be proscribed at any time or place). It was then that Baba found me reading it and told me he wanted me to answer a simple question when I was done. Baba always had the most interesting questions while we were growing up. So, naturally, my ears perked up.

‘It is this,’ he said, ‘Who is the hero in that book?’

I thought it was simple enough, even though I was only halfway through. The Jackal. Wasn’t that obvious?

‘Wrong,’ he smiled, ‘A hero is someone you wish to emulate. We’ll talk when I am back from work.’

Fine then. Maybe some other character makes an entry later, I remember thinking. I finished the book, excited to see who it might be, but by the end too, I was scratching my head. ‘Who else could it be?’ I thought. ‘Maybe the detective who caught him.’

And so, when Baba came back from work, looking dapper as usual in his flying overalls and boots (to those who haven’t yet guessed it, my Baba was Superman as far as I was concerned, and remains, till date, even 4 years after his passing), I was eager to tell him that I thought Claude Lebel was the hero. After all, he was determined, perseverant, intelligent, and on the side of the law.

‘No, Kedar. He was just doing his job. Yes, he was a hero, but not the hero. Think again. Why don’t you read the book once more?’

The next couple of days were spent re-reading and thinking, ‘Who could it be? Is this a trick question? What answer does Baba want me to give him? Is this like a life lesson he wishes to teach me?’ It was frustrating.

That weekend, Baba called me and asked me if I had the answer. That’s a negative, captain. I was flummoxed. He asked me to sit down and explained, ‘Jumbo, the hero is Gen Charles de Gaulle. He refuses to negotiate with terrorists. He refuses to cancel his program or his public appearances out of fear. He refuses to even duck when being fired at because the President of France cannot be seen as a coward. He, in fact, mocks those shooting at him by commenting that they are idiots who cannot even shoot straight. He remains steadfast in his resolve to do what is best for France. He is the one you should look up to. He is your hero. That is why they wanted to kill him, didn’t they? De Gaulle is your hero, Kedar. The rest are just regular folks.’

When I look at people who think Nathuram was a hero and Gandhi the villain, I wonder what their Babas were like. Mine was a hero.