For Appa

Tommorrow is Appa's 77th birthday. Every now and then I keep wishing we'd had more opportunities to bond better. It took adulthood and a heartbreak for me to really get to know what a steadfast rock solid support he could be. It was like an invisible veil was lifted and we suddenly could understand each other so much better. Appa was pretty clueless when it came to building a real rapport with kids and this was 'one' reason why we bonded late. In a lot of ways I found my spouse almost the same when it came to Abhi. The comparison just made me work harder on making him emote/ relate better to her. And now, on several occasions when she cooly says, "Amma, I like Acha better. You are the fighter cock", the brat really doesn't realise how proud it makes me. All my work, luv, ha ha ha. A memoir I penned the year before last cropped up on my Facebook memories and my little brat read through it. She wisely said, " Amma, now you know why I always come and give you extra hugs...I shouldn't be missing you the way you now miss your dad". Healing can be hard when you dont forgive yourself and...others. It is time I did. For me, writing about it is a major way of sorting things within my head and so... It was the begining of May, 2007. We (Unni and I) had come down to Kerala from Bangalore on a 2 day visit to attend his cousin's daughter's wedding. We arrived the previous evening and since it was such a short visit, Unni decided to go to his parents' and I to mine. His had a full house with his sisters and their families too. And so, I felt no qualms about going straight to my home. We stay only 27 kms apart and it was decided I would join in with the wedding goers bus, the next morning, as it passed a point near my home. We'd also decided I would hop off as we journeyed back since the next day we had to return to B'lore and I would get only one more evening at home. Appa saw me off at the bus stop and I hopped in casually promising to return back home that evening. Now, it so happened that mom in law fell sick and decided to skip the trip. It was a 4 hour journey to Trivandrum from Kottayam, and back. Everything went well till the return journey started. Now at leisure, the many neighbour/distant relative wags that were along with us on the bus kept repeatedly asking me, "Arent you coming back to Arpookkara? Mother is sick"...and so on and so forth. I guess they were just harping on it as casual talk. But, as luck would have it, at that point I somehow felt guilty for deciding to stop at my house. And, I called my appa and told him," Appa, I wont be coming home. Please bring my luggage to the bus stop. I'm going to Arpookkara". Appa said nothing. He was there waiting on the roadside with my travel bag. I waved a quick bye(he disliked bidding goodbyes to me and would always look away) and got back in the bus. That is my last visual frame of him. The tall, distinguished figure standing next to the red swift car with my luggage. If I have the date right, it was the 5th,Saturday. On 17th, Thursday evening as I was on my way back from office, it was about 8.30 PM, I got an urgent call from my brother. He asked me to do something urgently with no questions asked and cut call. I did. After which I returned home and called him back hoping the emergency was over. Amma picked the mobile this time, she simply said, "Appa is gone". It did not strike me initially. Where would appa go now?. It took time to register. Or, maybe it never did register in my head. I did not expect my 6 footer, healthy, handsome dad to just disappear the way he did. He had no chronic health issues, maintained healthy routine and had been born into a family of people with robust lifespans. Then the internal struggle began. I felt guilty. For not keeping my promise of going back home to him. For not spending that one last evening with him. For allowing myself to be bullied out of my original decision by people who played no roles in my life. On introspection, I remembered how he who always made me 'unniyappams' and 'ada pradhamans' told me the last time he made, "I dont think I will be able to make this for you anymore. I'm not well".I paid absolutely no heed to that statement!! Why would I? He looked absolutely fine to me. Guilt intensified. Then, I felt anger. Anger at those women. Anger at anyone who dared to live their long lives. Why my appa? And, why on the eve of his 62nd birthday? He lived a life that was useful to so many, on a daily basis. And, he just went? He would have made a wonderful grandpa to my little girl with her love for stories. What wonderful stories he could tell! A zillion real life stories/adventures of his doctoring days in the remotest of places.He would've stacked up all the 'Balaramas' and 'Kalikudukkas'of the world, each year as she came down to Kerala on vacation. He would've been there to keep checking on me from the moment he knew I'd booked airtickets uptill the minute I stepped into his compound. But, it is time I healed. It is time I forgave myself. And, the best way for me to do that would be by reminding myself appa died the way he wanted. "Doctoring is the best profession" he would proclaim, "I can practise till the moment I die". And, that is the way he went. He went while attending to patients in his home clinic. And, in a split second. His face serene (I remember asking amma that), his dress immaculate (the way he always was). I will also heal by making a promise to him. He was someone who was immensely proud of me and could not bear to see me waste time. He kept my first professional visiting card displayed under the glass of his consultation table. I promise to get a hold over my life, one step at a time. I promise to prioritise.