A Father's Encouraging Words

My Father must have been great person. So are all fathers to their children I suppose. And I hope I too am to my children. Though I can’t say for sure about my children, I can bet my bottom dollar that for my grandchildren I am a great guy. Did you notice the subtle change in the terminology? Person vs Guy? That’s the state of affairs. Sigh! And also “yaar” and all. Imagine, “Yaar, Grandpa...”

I had asked my father for only three things, in my School life. That’s all. But before I joined school he made an offer to me which I didn’t refuse. That was when I was three years old. Now you will ask me how I you remember things that happened when I was three. I do. I was in my mother’s lap and was admiring my father smoking a cigarette nearby. Seeing my curiosity, he asked me: “want this?” I said, yes. He carefully put the cigarette in my mouth, I took a pull as I had already observed and stored the technique in my mind and there I went coughing to glory. And mother went ballistic at the guffawing father.  

Now, the three things I asked for were, a Table Tennis Bat, a Mouth Organ and a pair of Football Boots, in that order at three different points in time.

Table tennis coaching was going on in the school once and when I borrowed a bat and tried knocking about, I felt I liked it. So I wanted to join the group. The coach/senior or I don’t know who, but someone in authority there told me that I needed to have my own bat to join the coaching classes. So I requested father for one. He said, No. I was in Cl VII at that time.

Every year on the Annual Day celebrations in our School, there were events in which the Old Boys participated. One was Athletics. 4 x 100 mtrs and 4 x 400 mtrs Relays against the School Team. The other was in entertainment programme. Excellent skits and music they used to come up with. One of the old boys played the flute so beautifully that year, I was mesmerised. My mind was hovering around that for a while. But I knew that playing the flute was a serious matter. As a substitute, a mouth organ would do, I thought. Another old boy had played that too divinely on that day. Please do not ask me how a mouth organ can substitute a flute. I wanted to be close to music, somehow, that's all. On running in my mind through all the musical instruments I knew at that time, this seemed easy to learn. Don’t snigger. Now I know better. I asked my father for one. He said: No.

Then a couple of years and I had picked up Football and Basketball to a decent degree. In fact I was selected for the School Basketball team by the Junior Physical Director, one Mr Martin Jones. But the senior, Mr Bagyanathan during the final selection, called me aside and told me: “Rajendran, you are too small. In inter school matches you are likely to get hurt. You can play after a year or two. Okay?”  Mr Martin Jones tried to tell him, I remember very well, about the standard of my game, but Mr Bagyanathan, rejected all those points with a smile. For the first time I became aware of my height or the lack of it. I had never thought about it till then. But football seemed to be a no problem area. I felt so and was also told that I could get into the School Football team. But here there was a hitch. I had to have boots. So, you can guess, I asked my father. The stock answer came. No.

The only explanation he gave each time was: You concentrate on your studies. Well, I admit I was floating around just above pass marks. That does not give much confidence to parents, I suppose. But then he too had played Football, Table tennis, Tennis and Volleyball for Loyola College in his time! (Later in his office in one of their functions, he had even performed “Ottam Thullal” a form of classical dance of Kerala!) Even with his background in sports he denied me. I could not argue with him and raise his confidence in me, even in sports. How could I tell him that I would become a great sportsman so that he would be proud of me!

Well, I happened to finish all my University Exams for a Degree, though my concentration was more on NCC and sports in College. I had applied for Army in between. There was a preliminary interview in Fort St George and then I was called for SSB in Meerut. We (those who got the call letter) were supposed to travel in 2nd Class (those days there was such a class of travel in Railways in between 1st and 3rd) on our own. The ticket amount was to be reimbursed to us after the SSB, whether we were selected or not.

On the day I was to board the train, father gave me ₹400, quite a sum those days, for any unforeseen expenditure and told me. “I know this is a waste of money. To be a Commissioned Officer in the Army is a highly responsible job. You are an irresponsible person. Anyway, go and try”.

As I left for Meerut, my exam result was to come any day. Those days the results were published in the news papers. The roll numbers of those who passed would appear. When I was away the results appeared. Father looked for my number, but didn’t find it. With a declaration that he knew he wouldn’t find my number, he is supposed to have thrown the paper in disgust. By the way at this juncture I must tell you that I never actually failed in any subject, leave alone in any class. My sister took the paper, looked for my number, found it and showed it to father.

SSB selection has two portions. First is the interview. If selected in it, one is to undergo a medical test. If one clears the medical board then the selection is confirmed and one is told to await the call letter to join the training academy.  Fortunately I was through in both.

The day my selection was confirmed, I sent home a telegram giving the happy news. That telegram reached home on the same day of the news paper which carried my roll number.

Even after all these years when I lean back on the chair with a glass next to me and a cigarette in my hand and think of him, a smile lights me up. My father was after all, a great guy!









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