My Deities

As everyone visits their respective holy place to worship their god and goddess, I too have my own. I offer prayers to them everyday. I deify them. These two divine spirits have become the most indispensable ingredient of my life and I can’t imagine loosing them even if world reaches the culmination of its existence. They are my deities. They had always been blessed with an amazing idiosyncrasy of shrouding the vicissitudes of life from me. Their endless sacrifices have made me venerate them even more fervently. Having bereft of their basic essentials they have climbed the precipice of destitution with great vigour. They have endeavoured to fulfil the needs of their children without giving heed to their own necessities under dire circumstances. They worked their soul out of their body. These are my parents.

In 1973, Dad fled his home at the age of 13 to Mumbai in search of his livelihood. I believe that itself was a courageous step since it was an alien city for him having no idea what he was going to do. After spending his first night under the cover of a truck he looked for labour work in Bombay port trust. Earning 3 bucks a day was only enough to find food for himself so that he could work for the next day. It wouldn’t have been easy to wallow in this most inauspicious of beginnings. Making himself toil day and night he could protract his days of survival. It was more than couple of years working as a contracted labour. One day his boss asked him if he is educated and could read the basic alphabets of English. His contractor was mulling on promoting him to a role of foreman. No doubt, Dad had to loose out as he was not educated enough. He continued with his same role and in the mean time learned to drive cranes deployed in ships as a winch driver. He still winces at the memory of those hapless days. It’s a nemesis not having the opportunity to get formal and basic education. Indeed, poverty enfeebles your mind but lack of education ruins you completely. This is what I believe. By god’s grace he became a permanent BPT employee in 1983 in the same month when I was born. His joy was two-fold. Every year he managed to save enough money to be sent to his home. Next year he got mom and me to Mumbai to stay with him. That one incident with his contractor (aforementioned) had pinched him a lot. He wished his two children to be educated and learn English. He somehow managed to pay fees for school and tuitions. Convent school was beyond his imagination owing to whopping fee structure. (how pathetic is that some convent schools even interview parents before admitting a child.) I was admitted to a govt school without any donations, a rare phenomenon in this corrupt nation. Thanks to AFAC English school, my alma mater, not only because it was inexpensive & govt. funded ( 5 rupees/month as its fees for fifth standard, 6 rupees/month for 6th class, and so on till the class of 10) but also because the quality of teachers it resided.

We were lucky in terms of the amount of fees dad had to shell out for schooling so that we could save a little bit for our living. I still remember my first tuition teacher who taught me to hold pencil and took care of my education till the age of 10. I owe her too. She was not less than my mother to have taught me to read and write. I had to leave her just because we had to leave mumbai (Mentioned in my Blog - Days of survival). It was never going to be easy for dad to sustain his family with a quality of education he aspired for us in this expensive city. We started selling handkerchiefs, towels, small garments to make up for our daily expenses. I still remember coming back from school at afternoon 1:30, having lunch leaving for tuitions at 2:00 PM, coming back home at 5:00 and loading those pieces of cloth on my bicycle and reaching the place alongside the road to sell them till late evening.

I remember one incident. I was done with my 10th standard board exams and discussing with my colony friends getting their advice regarding the road ahead. I was unaware of the future prospects and lacked the guidance to show me the way. What should I opt for Art, science or commerce? Completely unaware of where these roads will lead me. Few of them said I can opt for science which will give way for engineering. One of them said that engineering is too costly. I would never be able to do it and better go for diploma or B Sc. Albeit it was a highly discouraging remark, as a matter of fact whatever he said was not wrong considering my financial conditions.

When in 12th standard, I was mindful of the system of engineering admissions in Mumbai University. They had 30% seats reserved as free seat and remaining 70% as payment seats. Free seat required high score and far less fees as compared to payment fees. And the miserable quota system in education would bring down the percentage further. Either I should have big buck or high marks or get a certificate of schedule caste to seek engineering. Every single mark could make a huge difference and could drag me off my dream. This notion jolted my mind every single day during my 12th standard. Ultimately I was lucky to reserve my free seat trimming down drastically on the expenditure dad had to incur on my education. 80% percent of the annual fees I could get reimbursed in the form of scholarship that I used to receive every year from dad’s company.

My mom too did her job far too exceptionally than my dad. Dad just got the resources for us but it was my mom’s responsibility to employ those resources prudently and take care of her children’s education. She was educationally challenged but she knew the name of the subjects which we studied without actually knowing what these subjects were. Sometimes, I would search the entire house for a book only failing to find one. But mom would find the same book within minutes. All she would know was the colour and size of the book. After every exam no one would be more inquisitive than her in knowing the marks we scored. And we would say eighty and five (in hindi, instead of eighty five) out of 100. And her eyes would glitter with happiness and kissed us. I tried many times teaching her to read numbers and alphabets but she refused to learn saying “if my children have learned it doesn’t require me to learn to read and write.“ Life was her biggest teacher and she was more than intelligent to live without having to learn A B C Ds and 1, 2, 3s…

It’s been 25 years for me dwelling under the auspices of my deities capable to stand on my own feet. Now it’s time to pay back for their selfless love and for their sacrifices. Whatever I can do for them, will always remain minuscule compared to what they have bestowed upon me. No more I can endure the pain in their eyes. Now I don’t want to allow any more sacrifices. I would never want to leave them alone, not when they need me the most. Let god take away my life if ever I think of forsaking them. These are my deities who are my strength, my weakness and the purpose for my existence. It is the least a son can offer. It’s been my constant endeavour to make them feel proud.

I cannot owe them more, for I owe them everything already. I’ll have no compunction in selling my soul to keep them happy for the rest of their life. Love you papa. Love you mummy.