Subbaiyaa - another cheran movie...?!

Having written so much about Atticus in 'to kill a mockingbird', i think its now time i wrote about my dad.(After writing that entry , i retired to bed, i lie besides my father, it suddenly struck me why i did not write abt him in that article and then told myself that in that article i was only expressing my admiration of Atticus and ther was no point in bringing my dad in ther, that would be no justice to either.)

My earliest recollection of him is that of , when i was a few months old, he putting me to sleep on his bare, broad, hairy chest and me comfortably and obediently sleeping in the warmth in ther, taking due care not to hurt him with my weight, ( i wld have been jus heavier than a feather) yes, such a mindset was born with me.

And then i remember how he 'taught' me manners. Yes, he made me stand and lectured all these to me. i still can picture that scene. He taught me to say 'thank u', when i took something from ppl and to say 'no-mention' or 'welcome', he later decided welcome was the best, when others said thank u to me; And not to pick nose in others presence; Not to readily accept gifts from ppl and to take his consent before taking anything from anyone.

He never told me explicitly not to lie ,but thru various incidents he had demonstrated it to me that you were always much better off in every sense when you told the truth.

And then i remember how as a small boy he made me stand in front of him and tried to explain to me why he had decided to put me in hostel for my first standard. He was trying to reason it out with me jus like speaking to any elder. I could understand it fully and loved the fact he so very gracefully explained things to me respecting me and i wld treasure that reasoning out and that treatment of being equal to a grown up man and it would keep me away from making any fuss about staying in the hostel and infact gave me the strength that never made me feel homesick or complain about anything in my hostel life that would last aother 7 years.

I remeber how he taught me profit and loss by enacting a business situation. i would start loving maths after that.

And then i remeber how i drove him to extreme anger by walking in to the theater and watching the movie ,now and then turning to the entrance to see if they had come or not, while i was asked to go first in the cycle and buy tickets and wait for them outside the theater. They had in the meantime come to the theater and not finding me waiting for them at the gates were left with no clue where i was and left them worrying if i had been hit by any vehicle .My father had spent the next three hours searching for me all over the town while i was there inside the theater. Somehow he had finally manged to spot my cycle in the parking lot( if he had done it in the first inspection i could have been spared a brutal trtmnt that wld follow) and waited for me outside the theater in his jeep. I had no clue y he looked so different i was innocently asking him why they had decided not to come to the movie and that it was a good movie. He did not speak until we reached home . once we were home he started beating me , still giving me no clue why he was beating me. he made sure he left imprints of his palm (transcending my shirt , ofcourse) all over my back. Everyone in the street had assembled in front of the house , invited by my maddening cries for help, begging my father to spare me. he spared me only when his hands were tired.

I remeber how he gave me tips to improve my memory ( it used to be as bad as , i would take my cycle to the shop forget it ther and walk back home) like revising things whenever i had time- while travelling in the van or during brks. I, thereafter knew how to take charge of my memory.

I remember how he explained to me and my younger brother that he had fallen to a woman. i was not listening, i felt like smiling , wondering why he was looking so dreaded. but that did not affect in anyway my respect for him.

I remember how he lifted the gas cylinder (14.5 kg) to hit me when i had picked a fight with my younger brother. I laughed in my mind for the fool he looked like, then. That i think would be the first incident i would see him as someone low in my respect. But i would not loose respect entirely for him until i would understand him completely.

I would loose my respect for him not my love. I would stop to look at him as a figure to be revered and start looking at him as a friend to be loved. And he would find it difficult to suddenly adorn the friend role and would slowly find the rhythm......