I was about to turn 11, and that was when everything changed in my life. I decided to pay tribute to my father by reflecting on a few things that had made an impact on me. Last year, I bought a pair of aviator sunglasses, inspired by a picture of my father and me at our hometown airport. In that photo, he was wearing a similar pair, and that image has stayed with me throughout my life.The other thing I remember is a dictionary he printed with his name on it. I am reading a fascinating book, ” A Wonderland of Words” by Shashi Tharoor, and I was remembering my father. Dr Tharoor uses a very nice German word, ” Weltanschauung“, translated most simply as ‘worldview’ but embracing a comprehensive personal philosophy. I believe my father’s view of the world was very different. I acquired a passion for language from my father. He used to write diaries. At times, he was poetic as well. I love songs, which have become a relief thanks to him. I heard Mohammed Raffi’s Lahore night program and became a fan since then. Sometimes, I tell my wife that my father lived ahead of his time or that he was in a hurry to make the best of his life.
Last Thursday, June 5th, I got up around 3 AM. I had an early morning flight to catch at 6.35 AM. I had booked a cab to ensure I had no last-minute issues getting to the airport. As the clock approached 5 AM, I remembered what had happened on this day 41 years back. Some things are etched in your memory and will stay for eternity. In the airport, I saw a book titled “Stolen Hours” by Manjula Padmanabhan. That was serendipitous. I had got up hearing a scream in those wee hours. That scream still keeps coming back to me every year. I landed, first called my mother, and started by saying, “It is June 5th.”..
