The Dog Years

Long back, I had come across an article called ‘The Cat Years’ in the Readers’ Digest. It compared the adolescent and the early youth years of children as ‘cat’ years. It is the time when the children are alienated from their parents. The pampered kid days get over. Parents seem to be too old-fashioned, out of sync, non-compromising and frustratingly non-understanding. The way they do things makes no sense. They seem too uncool. The dependence and the appreciation are lost. This has a similarity with cats that, unlike dogs, never become completely dependent on their masters. Though they might return at times for food and shelter, they prefer to have an individual independence. The author of the article asks the parents not to worry too much about the children during the ‘cat’ years. It is all natural for the children of that particular age. He ends the write-up with a promise that the ‘dog’ years will be back. I think he was right.

Lately, I have discovered a renewed attachment to my parents. I have started to appreciate their efforts and sacrifices, may be for the first time truly in my life. I have heard my mom talk about how helpless she felt at times with my six-month-old brother and three-year-old me when my parents moved into a new town. My father’s office was 50km away from home and those were the days without telephone. How painfully she had discovered the fact that kids start crying when they hear another one cry. These days when I am irritated by kids crying in the flights, I wonder how my mother could cope with those times. Last March, when I was waiting for a friend near SFO, I saw a Korean mother desperately trying to control her two sons. They were running around, standing up on railings, shouting, laughing, jumping and were ready to do anything except listen to their mom. It reminded me of my mother again. She must have been in similar situations quite a few times. Then there were times when we didn’t want to go to the school, when we wouldn’t stop nagging, when we were adamant to get something impractical and just won’t listen to logic, and above all when we fell sick. It must have taken a lot of courage, patience and dedication just not to give up. That too without recognition. I doubt how many, if any, person has ever complimented my mom for raising her children the way she did.

However, in spite of her tremendous perseverance, she at least had someone to blindly depend on; my father. I guess he had none. The amount of responsibility he has borne for his family, even beyond the four of us, with such ease and elegance, it is unbelievable. We have hardly seen our father get angry. I have never seen him getting stressed. What’s most astounding is that I have never seen him get tired. Even today he is ten times as active as I am. His office work takes up close to twelve hours. He has to take care of the domestic needs, grocery shopping, car maintenance, accounts management and still doesn’t shirk away from his morning walk at six, remembers to polish his shoes and never fails to call up his father every other day. And as I mentioned earlier, he does all that seemingly without effort. He is always calm and never without a smile. And you can’t miss his intelligence and sincerity in everything he does. Surprisingly, somehow he still harbors a kid’s mind somewhere inside himself. He is not afraid to admit that he was wrong, doesn’t hesitate to ask questions if he needs to and sometimes burst into laughs so loud that we jump off our seats. People have their ideal personalities in life. But it is so difficult to be a Amartya Sen or a Vidyasagar or an Einstein. I will be happy if I can get close to being my father.

The funny aspect of this blog is that I am right now putting in front of the whole of the world to see what I can’t express to the persons I really owe everything to. It just feels so awkward and stupid to go to my parents and say that I am amazed and inspired by them everyday.