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My Early Childhood |
I was born in a small middle
class Parsi family and I was the youngest of three children. I had two older
brothers and myself, and they thought I was the most pampered of them all.
As a child I was very meek and
mild. Every time guests came inside the house and I just had to go and say
hello I would just burst out crying. I would never go in front of people. I
never went up on stage, never did one poetry in public. I was everything but a
public figure or a leader.
Life was chugging along well until I
was twelve. One fine day while my dad was teaching me geography he collapsed
and I heard a big sound. It was a massive heart-attack and he died. I was alone
with my friend, Ranju, and we both didn’t know what had happened. Two little
girls first put water on his head tried to revive him thinking he had just
collapsed. When nothing happened for the next five minutes we rushed to the
neighbors place and we asked for help. We called the local doctor who sent him
to a hospital. But it was too late. At that time my mother was looking after
her old parents who were in Calcutta who had just gone through a calamity of
losing their son and daughter in law in a car crash just four days back. I
guess the shock was a bit too much for my dad and did not mention a word to any
of us and he was wonderful a man. He was a role-model for us. Very mild, very
gentle, very helpful and caring. There was one impression that set behind my
mind that was the day of his funeral. On that day the road that we lived on was
flooded with the people he worked with. Every single person around him.
Hundreds and hundreds of his colleagues came by to pay his respects that was
the day I told myself that this is the life we should lead at the day we die
there are so many people who are going to be giving us that respect. It is not
the respect that we earn when we are living but the respect we leave behind
when we die and that was set in my little tender mind.
