It was September 1993. I was in Nagpur for a short break from college. My grandfather, who we all called Dada, was critically ill and was admitted in a local hospital. Everyone in the immediate family was taking turns in staying with him at the hospital. Since, I was on a break and the rest of the family had their respective jobs, I spent a lot of time at the hospital with him. There wasn’t much to do since he was mostly unconscious. Baba and his brothers would come to the hospital right after work in the evening and I would go home on my bicycle (which was actually a hand me down of Dada’s). Dada was known for his tenacity, his physical and mental toughness, and a very short temper. As a result his word used to be the last word in our family. Baba was his (and my grandmother’s) caretaker and provider, as far as my memory goes back. I know, Baba revered his father, almost worshiped him. I wonder now, how was their personal relationship? Were they close? Did Baba seek advice from his father? Did he share a joke with him? Their’s was a different generation, and in those days, rarely did a father and his son share a “buddy” rapport. Why, even I didn’t have such a rapport with Baba.

Dada’s condition didn’t improve and he passed away on the last day of the Ganesh festival. This was the first time, I witnessed death – this was the first time I saw a dead body. Baba performed the last rites as was customary, for the eldest son to do. He, along with his two brothers, had shaved their heads. Religion and its customs were followed. A mourning of 14 days commenced. Baba was 50 years old when his father passed away. 27 years later, I would perform the last rites of my father, but I refused to shave my head or follow the rest of the customary traditions. I also refused to comply with the other religious rites after the funeral. But more on that later.

The rest of my college years, were punctuated by intermittent visits home during the breaks after each semester. I would be home with not much to do, while the rest of the family went about their daily chores. It was mostly, me, aai, and my aaji (grandmother) during the day. Baba, as usual was engrossed with his work. My brother was finishing high school and was busy with his studies. There aren’t many memories with him in these years. One thing that happened during my college years is, I was changing as a person. My thinking was expanding, I was exposed to more people who were unlike me – in language, in thinking, in cultural habits, in artistic tastes. I was subconsciously soaking it all in. After having spent years being surrounded by the cocoon of the middle class Marathi world, this was an awakening for my mind and body. This would have a lasting impact on me for the rest of my life. And when I say, I was exposed to “other” people, it wasn’t a superficial exposure. I was living with people who were unlike me, I was with them 24X7, we were having shared experiences that would create lasting bonds. I was changing rapidly.

After I graduated, I moved back home for a job I found in Nagpur. Baba was pleased that I was employed. I wasn’t. I did not want to live in Nagpur, I did not want to live at home. This was a direct result of having been away for four years, of having tasted the “other”, of the vast diversity of experiences that lay in the rest of the world. I could not wait to explore all that is out there on my own. I could not express this to anyone. It was all quite constraining. I was planning an escape. And so I did. I went to Pune under the pretext of applying to management schools, which was partially true, but I had ulterior motives. After securing a job in Pune, I informed my parents that I won’t be coming back. I don’t think Baba was prepared to handle that news. I didn’t care. I was away. Those were hard days for me, very little money, and no direction of where my life was going. But I was determined, to not come back. In the midst of this, I learned how Baba had officiated a wedding of the daughter of one of his close friends, against the will of his friend. I learned that the daughter had fallen in love with her professor at the engineering college she was studying and her family was opposed to the match. I was surprised that Baba, who I thought was a conservative person, would stand up to her and would help her. He would do that again a few years later, for another of his friends’ daughters. This friend lived across from us. His daughter is a childhood friend. She had fallen in love with a neighborhood boy who is also a good friend of mine. They are of different caste and it hence the match was quite a controversy. Her father, who was a very good family friend to us denounced his own daughter. But my father came to their rescue and helped the couple out. The couple remained indebted to my father. Every time when they would visit Nagpur from the Middle East, where they now live, they would first come to him to see him and seek his blessings. It was quite a revelation that this seemingly religious person, didn’t have any hang ups when it came to love. We are all puzzles after all, and he was no different. It makes me think, what his youth was like. Did he love anyone other than my mother? I don’t know, I never cared to ask. But this I know for sure, he was intensely loyal to my mother. They had been through trying times together, and would continue to until he passed away. She would become his sole source of strength when he contracted a chronic heart disease.

In 1999, on a whim, me and a friend of mine appeared for an interview for a US based firm. This was not a planned move, but more of a lark. We were out for lunch and saw this sign board outside a 5 star hotel in Pune for the interview. We tried and with no expectations were offered a position. We decided to take it. After I announced this at home, everyone was a bit amused. I don’t think they actually thought that I would go through with it. But go through with it, I did. Baba was proud but also nervous. I didn’t have much money, so I borrowed money from him to convert them into two hundred and fifty dollars. Everyone came to see me off at the Bombay airport. Baba and Aai were a nervous wreck. As the wheels of the flight took off, the gravity of the situation brought me down. I will truly be alone now, in a distant land with little money to start a life of my own. That was February 2000. I have been fortunate to have made a decent life in a foreign country with the $250 borrowed from Baba. You can say that is my inheritance from Baba. He had made a life for himself and his brothers, taken care of his parents, raised two sons, all with no capital from anyone. I can say, this is my homage to a self made man. All I am today, is because he gave me wings. I also inherit the trait of not expecting any help from anyone in going through ones life. I am not the first, neither the last one to do so. So I won’t claim any pride in it. But I do believe, this is what Baba unconsciously inculcated in me (and my brother) – to make it on your own. He did it at a much younger age, with more responsibilities than I had when I embarked on my journey of adulthood. He did with far more adversities than I had to ever face. But nonetheless, I am his son in this regard. And, I am damn sure he was proud of both of his sons for this.