A fond farewell

This blog has not seen a post since May 26th. It has been a 100 days. I simply could not get back to writing.

My dad passed on 29th of May. After going to India and participating in his last rites, something has left me. Do not know what it is. That 10+ days of going through rituals has left some unexplainable void.

There are a lot of things to write about. Lots of songs to sing. Somehow could not get back to doing things I do normally with the same ease. The only saving grace was yoga. Somehow knew that going to a hot and humid room and spending 90 minutes without making any external sound, will help silence my inner voice and bring me much needed calm, and it did. Kept doing yoga as much as possible.

One of my Smule group friends threw a party to introduce his son and new daugher-in-law after the marriage. Many from the group had planned to sing at this meet and greet. Did not sign up, but once there, my friends pulled me in to sing and I did enjoy that moment. Somehow after coming home after the event, went back into a funk.

Work kept me very busy. A young co-worker ended up sick right after I came back and that left another lump in my throat. Kept all my focus on just work and yoga. The writing and singing, taking pictures and hiking went sideways.

Then came the long weekend and we went on a trip as a family. This might have been the one chance to go as a family given the kids are adults now and their schedules are no longer under our control. It was a good week spent but still took me some time, to just log back into the blog site.

This is my online farewell to my dad. I have to write about the man and his influence or the buffer block won’t clear in my head.

Here is to

Shri Hariharan Narayanan of Pudukkottai, Chennai

1939-2025

My dad lost his mom at a very young age and that pretty much left a scar that carried through his life. He got married late and had kids late. He was extremely intelligent and smart. Had a phenomenal memory and ability to connect dots. He was also an emotional idiot with a penchant to romanticize tragedy and nostalgia.

His only bad trait was a short temper, a blown fuse that took its toll on me as a kid. Still when there was a time when no one stood by me, he was there for me. He was always the contrast to everything I looked up to in my grandpa. My grandpa was the biggest influence in my life. I always credit him for my value system, but my dad was there to shape it without intending to. Years later when my dad spent almost 6 months with us, I actually realized there were a lot of things that were common between my grandpa and my dad.

Then there is my reflection in the mirror, the things I do, my fear of going through Parkinson’s… which constantly remind me of him.

There were times I had a love hate relationship with who I was, who I am, but somethings I have not given up, like wearing my poonal, no matter what.. because he wanted me to wear it till I die, so sandyavandanam, change it once a year, so one day perform his last rites, give my daughters hand in marriage (in his eyes it was part of a rite of passage). He being who he was from a different time, was still talking to me about his sadness at me not having a son when I was already 50 and old enough to start thinking of becoming a grandpa myself. Over the years it used to annoy me, but as I matured, learned to laugh it off. There was no changing either one of us on certain things.

He mellowed out as he aged. It was easier to interact with him as the years passed. Not sure how much of that is a reflection of either one of us becoming more accepting. Maybe both of us!

As I write this, I can feel him right here next to me, reading this over my shoulder and suggesting edits, telling me I could do better than this. Wanted to write a fond farewell, only to realize there is no saying bye to someone who is a part of me.

He is definitely wishing me well from wherever he is.

Time is supposed to move things along and even if you sense a tinge of sadness in my writing and singing and overall mood, this too shall pass. We are seeing a steady improvement in my social interactivity coefficient already in 3 months. Maybe in another three months, will be back to being my usual self.

Here is to …

When the time comes..

A few days ago, was going through a horrible time with the nose bleeds and all the other symptoms that come with an allergy attack. Thanks to all the cotton type stuff floating around in the air, a bee that decided to sting my leg and the temperature fluctuations in general. 

It was impossible to sleep with all the pain and I definitely did not want to go and get yet another prescription for Amoxycilin 500 and go through a cycle of switching sinus problems to stomach problems which is usually followed by a week long diet of only rice and yogurt to bring back the good bacteria in my stomach. Normally would go do Yoga just when the nose starts getting blocked and things would get back on track.

This time it was past that point and had to suffer through it. With all that pain, was trying the many tricks to just get to sleep. First it was patting myself on the back just like my mother used to do when same thing used to happen as a kid. That didn't work. 

Then suddenly out of the blue, was reminded of a song that my father used to play on a Philips Gramaphone record player to put me to sleep.. did a search on youtube and found one instance of the exact same song by M.S. Subbulakshmi and voila, was dozing off. What a divine voice! Even for someone who did not understand the words as a kid, the imploring voice always used to put me to sleep and calm me down!

Have been listening to this song a few times in the last week just reminiscing about the sound of that player and the needle moving slowly towards the center of the black disk in the glow of the night light when we were little kids. 

I am soo going to go buy a turntable and see if my dad still has those records in the attic and play them for Jr. and the little one!

Yesterday there was a weird dream. I am in bed dying. For some strange reason, everyone is around me and they know I have very little time, but there is a struggle and I am having difficulty letting go.. Then my sister, Jr. and the little one all sing this song in chorus and I let go and die. It was one of those dreams that actually made me sweat and sit up in bed! Funny thing was that I am older but all of them look the way they do today!

It was  a dream.. so whatever! Played that song for the kids today and said "if someday I am lying on my death bed, please sing this song for me and will leave this planet a happy man!" The kids got all pissed off for my mentioning death beds and said "we will never ever sing this song". 

Now I have my work cut out for me.. 

Tears when you need them

Have been on the phone with relatives and friends for the last 24 hours. For some strange reason, have not been able to cry.

It is like this great body of tears has all welled up somewhere and there is something that is stopping the dam from bursting out. San has cried and gotten better, Jr. who heard grandma cry over the phone, cried in turn, threw up by psyching herself and the little one did her thing as well.

For some strange reason, tears evade me. There is a lot of guilt, for making my bed here in the USA, a far away land, knowing that it would not be possible to go make it to India in times like these, within a time frame that would make any sense.

There is a rich culture and an elaborate grieving process that actually helps the people left behind, of which I am not a part of, right now. That with the guilt for having no one else to blame for this situation but myself, is not helping.

So, in an attempt to justify my internal logic, I am living in some kind of delusional world where on the one hand the death of the grandfather who epitomizes the word "love" for me is conflicting with thoughts like "I could have been living in Bombay instead of California and there could be a flood there or an airline strike there and it would be the same situation..." etc. etc.

The hamster inside the head is running at 400 GHz, quite aimlessly for it knows not how to get all those well intentioned emotions out.

My mom called me and broke down today over the phone. Somehow, news reached her that I was in an accident on thursday morning and escaped near death. As a family have had more reasons to be together than ever before, this year.

We for our part did not tell her about the accident because we did not want them to worry. They for their part did not want to tell us that Grandpa was admitted to the hospital and was in critical condition, because they didn't want us to worry. When I told my mom that maybe if she had given me a hint two days earlier, there would have been a plane ticket, she told me she knew about my accident and how I did not tell her. That sealed my lips.

Now we have sealed tear ducts and sealed lips. My school teacher mom promptly reminded me of

Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

(a poem that is not easily forgotten)

Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,
Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee--
Like summer tempest came her tears--
'Sweet my child, I live for thee.'

Somehow, someone needs to slap me or say or do something that will get all this stuff inside to come out.

Maybe it is fear of losing my composure in front of Jr. and the little one that is making me do this?, don't know.

Till that happens, going to walk around with a blank stare.

God knows I miss him. Thought putting this in words might help. Still doesn't.

ps. We were at Tamizh school this morning and as I waited in the car for San to drop off Jr. in class and be back, saw a grandpa carrying a little on on his hips and hold his version of Jr. by the other hand and it reminded me of my grandpa doing the same thing with me and my brother. Almost started crying and San came back with the Little one and I stopped. Sure that emotional dam will burst. Just hoping it is sooner than later!

The little one is truly blessed. She can cry on demand and get tears instantaneously for no reason.

.