My mom has always been my favourite person, or so says my dad.

My dad did not hail from a rich family. He was a good student, a good athelete from what I hear. And a caring person. My dad started his career as the most junior person in an Indian enterprise. A hard working chap, he advanced fast in his career. He became the youngest Vice President ever of the same enterprise. Of course there were Ups and Downs. But he went through it all. He is the toughest cookie I know that way. He has weathered it all.

Today, hunting for a picture for another blog of mine, I came across the snap I added for this blog. That snap, is not mine. It is the imagination of someone else. But it reminds me of what my mom told me. This goes back to the days when I was not yet four years of age. I do not even remember if I was in the play group by then. The house had a veranda with a grill. The ground floor flat faced the road and I used to hang on the grill for hours together. The other kids were way too old for my age, but not old enough to make sure that I would not meet with an accident. So I was in the house till my mom could be free of her household work (work that was usually increased by my activites- but thats another story) and take me out to the nearby park where I could test my young muscles against the giant strength of Mother Earth. Dad was of course an essential part of the trip. I after all needed to drive the giant bike to my satisfaction. Mom says that I could predict two minutes in advance when my dad would be home, even before the bike was visible across the bend (I guess it was the better hearing of a child's ears that detected his bike's characterstic rumbling). Once in the house dad would just say my name once and I would jump off the cliff (well that is what three feet height felt like at that age). And he never dropped me.

Someone once said "Only those who go too far know how far they can actually go". Dad did not usually stop me from anything. I could do anything on Earth cause I knew I had dad backing me up. I knew he would catch me in time. Always. And he did. Always. He did till things were finally not completely under his control.

I am a decent swimmer. I used to swim for hours. And dad would sit there for hours watching me swim. He is the best swimmer in his part of my family. I have seen him beat my older cousins who were twice my age. He would always let me win though. Occasionally of course he would speed up ahead so that I had to pull in everything I had to catch up with him before he finally let me win. Of course, as I grew up, the day came when the table turned and I slowed my stroke to let him win. I guess he understood. Cause we have never raced since. And I miss that.

I always have wondered- what is his inspiration to keep going? What keeps him ticking at the hours when I am still sleeping? What keeps him awake at night when I am drowsy and just trying to get done with my homework? What keeps him at work when I am desperately desperate for a break? Upto a huge part of life so far, I have always heard the typical adjectives used for him- workaholic, hard working, type A personality. The lingo could extend endlesslessly. I always believed it was his thirst to prove himself as the best that there is. And then I thought of another answer- Me.

Today when I am on the verge of starting a professional career of my own, once again, and once and for all, I wonder what could keep me going? I know initially it would be to prove my worth. To state to the world that I have arrived. But would that be an inspiration to keep me going through life? I think it would be the thought of my kids, their dreams and needs that would be it. Of course I have had a much more comfortable childhood as compared to my dad. The protected experience that I have gained with him is something that he did not have. But I suppose there is no end to reaching perfection. There are things that I feel I missed out upon that I would like my kids to have access to. I think that is how it always works.

As a child, I often did not understand dad's busy schedule. As he progressed the steps in his career, the work pressure increased. His responsibilities increased. He had to put in longer hours at work. And by the time he came back home, there would be no more time for the park. The park was slowly replaced by the small lawn our new home had. Mom was always around. Not dad. He had work to do. I missed his bike. But he now had a car and I loved the feeling I got when he would let me feel that I was driving the car. The occasions to drive the car were less frequent.

Years later it was dad who finally taught me how to drive a car. The banter during that time is a legend in the house. Mom rode with us only once during that period- it was that bad. I would always want to go faster. I had to be the speed king as fast as possible. He insisted that I learn how to drive slow first. Who ever wanted to enjoy the slow magic when you had the thrill of speed? And the geometry and trignometry of negotiating curves was more than enough for me. But he had his way and now years later, when I drive the highways alone, he just leaves me with a word of caution- ' Drive Safe'.

Whenever I got an injury, dad would get upset. He would scold me. His favourite statement was, "Do you think I am a doctor?". I never understood that statement. I mean its the birth right of every decent football player to get hurt. Right? I hated that dialogue. I guess he probably became upset because as a non medico he could not pull me out of pain as quickly as he would like to.

I fell seriously ill twice in my life so far. You know the kind of illness you remember. The rest of course come and go. Both the times dad was not in town. He was on a tour. He however always interrupted his tours to return to me. And it was always a relief when he arrived. After all, before he left, he would always leave me in charge of the house. "Take care of mom and the house while I am gone. You are the man in the house", he would say. You can imagine the strain on a five year old, who is seriously ill, and is in charge of the house. Yeah, it was always a relief to see him back. I could return to being naughty when he returned after all.

When I was young, I hated Sunday afternoons. My parents would go for their siesta. I would play with my toys for sometime, till I became restless. Then I would go and check on my parents whether they were actually sleeping. Since I did not have a eeg machine at hand, I used the next best method. Open their eyelids and look for changes. Somehow, I never found any changes. They were always wide awake as soon as I opened their eyelids. With mom the tecnique was safe. She would get up and play with me. Dad was another matter. He would envelop me in his bear hug and go back to sleep. I would try to get out of the hug. But always failed and finally got tired enough to go to sleep myself- a good Sunday afternoon wasted. It took me eight good years to finally manage to break out of his bear hug. Of course I had stopped my "sleep changes" experiment long before.

I always thought that I was a good bicycle rider. I always wanted to show him how fast I could go. He was never there during my playing time- he would be travelling home. And mom would always ask me to drive safe, not fast. Well she seemed to be right about that on only one occasion- the day I could not brake in time and landed in a cactus bush. I thought that the cactus bush had some kind of fungal alopecia. Why else would it shed so many thorns at once? Of course I cursed the bush owner too, espeacially when she tried to act smart and blame me for the damage done to her bush. Mom did not like it one bit. I must have been thorny cause she could not do it herself and had to call in the neighbour to pull out the thorns. I guess she would have fainted if she had to pull out all the thorns herself. It had taken almost half an hour to pull out all the thorns, and I had pulled out about thirty thorns myself before mom had arrived home. That night I slept in dad's bear hug.

Yeah I love my old man. And I know that deep down he knows how much I love him. And noone knows more about it than my mom. Cause it was always my mom who reminded me how much dad loves me.