A Letter to the ROCKET MAN
Dear Baba,
I remember our beautiful house that you created right in the middle of the slum where I & my five sisters created our wonderful childhood memories. These memories were associated with lots of sewing thread around & your machine which I used to call the “Rocket”. With your help it helped repair my torn clothes, make a beautiful new dress for my sisters which I envied. I wanted to be a Rocket Man like you but was unfortunate to never pick up your skills. I know you consciously kept me away from tailoring, you didn’t want me to be what you are. You were proud of your work but didn’t want your son to carry on the lineage. I have seen you restless when the ROCKET was not alright. The restlessness was never for the ROCKET but to feed us.
When I failed in anything, you use to take me to your shop and tell me wonderful stories of great people who never gave up. Now I know that most of it was fiction but I still want to believe those stories and would continue to tell the stories to people & my children. Your stories made me whatever I am today. Baba, I continue to fail at times and I recall all the stories you told me. Fortunately, I am in a profession where Fiction prevails and it suits me. I failed in 11th Standard, Computer Science & at times to adhere to the duties of being your son but your stories have been a lifeline all along my journey.
I remember you teaching me English when you yourself were not aware of English. I remember you taking me to watch an English Movie and we both were clueless of what was going on and you trying to answer my queries after that. It was fun Baba, I enjoyed watching English Movies with you and we both being clueless. Although I understand some English now, I still hold on to the meaning that you told me. I still love to delve into that fictional world that we both created. If you wouldn’t have taken me to those movies I wouldn’t have been curious enough to find out the real meaning. When I see those movies now, I laugh, at times I cry.
Today the rains arrived again, I remember our rainy routine of visiting a Vada Pav shop on your cycle and having our dinner there. Vada Pav remains an emotional memory of my childhood. Your cycle was a way to fly, you use to tell me to stand on it & sing. Baba, at times I sing while traveling on my bike recalling all the fun we had while our short cycle ride.
When we reconstructed our house from a wooden house to a sturdy cement concrete house, we had a small terrace right in the middle of that slum. We use to sleep on the terrace, I use to sleep in your lap. In your lap, we both stared at the dark sky, the stars & we had a new subject to talk about.
Now that I have a son, I too have started telling him the stories. Most of them are borrowed from you. I will try to be the father that you were to 6 of us.
You don’t know you birthdate, so we decide to celebrate it in October. I wish you a Happy Birthday Papa.
Thanks for Inspiring me.