From Kodi to his Bapa..

(This post is by Kodi's Mom of Kodimeow Kronicles)

[Kodi pens a few words to his Bapa.]

Dearest Bapa of mine,

I love Fai-lays. I learnt to say Fai-lay (Friday), just so I would know when you were coming home every week. Our time together each weekend is so short that despite my non-stop yapping, I don't get to say it all. Hence this letter.

Amma tells me that you were the first to hold me after I was born. That I was screaming long after I needed to scream and she took me from your arms, and talked in my ear, hoping that would calm me down. That her efforts didn't work at all. That you took me back, held me in your strong hands, and stroked my cheek gently. That, seconds after that, I quieted down and stared back at you. That I had declared my loyalty to you right then.

That, much to Amma's amusement, you were your methodical self even with diaper changing and used gloves each time. That you spent several nights up just checking on me even though I was fast asleep. That, even when I have a simple cold, you call in from your corner of the country, in the middle of your busy day just to make sure I am recovering ok.

That for my first birthday, you directed your first video - Kodicles - the Musical, using only my pictures and some background help from Beethoven.

That you regularly read the Kronicles and even leave comments, much to Amma's delight.

Last Father's Day, I said my first word and that word was Bapa. I hope that is further proof of my parental preferance. But, when Amma asks me to pick between her and you, I have to resort to my diplomatic answer and pick her. I have to live with her during the week, don't I? But don't let that fool you. You are definitely a whole lot cooler ... and saner than Amma.

You are like the train engineer who keeps us chugging along on our right tracks, and in the right direction. Without you, we'd be lost, going around in circles.

For me, Bapa, every day I spend with you is Father's Day.

And I don't have to say it - but for the record, I love you tons and tons!

Your one and only,
Kodimeow.

ps: I know, I know, this letter is a little too mushy for our taste. But not my fault, that Amma of mine made me do it!
- K.

Happy Father's Day, Dear Appa!

Dear Appa,

Every time I sat down to write a post about you during the last 10 days, I seemed to hit a wall - not because of dearth of things to say, but, realizing that nothing I say would seem adequate, would convey the right emotion...

It is Father's Day already and if I don't record a few thoughts now (knowing you would read it), I would have missed a beautiful opportunity. So here goes...

My earliest memories are riding in the front seat on your bicycle. I must've been 4 or so then, and used to love it. When you pedaled a bit before you got on, when the bike reached a dangerous 45° angle and I was sure I'd fall down, you'd swing your leg over and seat yourself and we'd be off... Those days seem idyllic now.

When I was sick, I'd insist you take me to our family doctor; I remember hanging on to your arms and hiding behind you in an attempt to ward off the impending "injection" (shots) that our doctor always gave me...

When I cooked my first few meals and had you sample them, you would praise them to heaven and I'd be all beaming until I tasted them myself and realize I hadn't added any salt. When I call your bluff, you'd insist that less salt is good for health and that I am smart enough to know that already!

When in 5th and 6th grade, I used to love making posters. Some were alright, most were mediocre at best if I look at it objectively now, but, you were so proud of my work that you let me put them up on our living room wall... you encouraged me to hone my artistic skills.

I am not sure if you remember: when I was in 2nd grade, you bought me a cone ice cream for the first time. I had eaten popsicles and ice cream in a cup, but, edible sugar cones filled with ice cream was a novelty. I started at the top and finding the ice cream all over my nose and cheeks, I decided to eat it the smart way - by biting off the bottom! In no time at all, i was a sticky mess. I was quite sure I had done something terrible and that you'd never take me out again and buy me ice cream, but, you just laughed and rode us home on your bike and I got washed up, leaving just an embarrassing story behind for my dear brother to leverage :-)

I was not a pleasant teenager - I was angry about a lot of things and didn't quite know how to deal with your generosity.

While most kids would have the opposite problem, you always asked me for my "Buy List" and I used to be hard-pressed to put anything on the list: You and amma provided me with everything I needed to grow up well-rounded.

When I started experimenting with baking, and failing, you just joked about it, turning it into a ritual: "Sheela's Annual Cake-baking Ceremony", emphasizing on the Annual so I will not experiment so often:-)

Your sense of humor is incredible. You constantly keep up the cheer in the house and sometimes I think you would have been a successful comedian, if you wanted to...

As I grew up, we talked about Vedic philosophy, about God about how to lead a good life. We've argued a lot. You've never used your authority as my Father to shut me up.

Your generosity and blessings are the best gifts I can ask for, and I have never needed to ask for it, you and amma have been freely giving it to me.

This Father's Day, I just want to say Thank You! Thank you for being there and raising us as best as you did.

I wish you were visiting me now so I could say it in person... Happy Father's Day, Appa!

Letter to Appa...

Dear Appa,

I have been meaning to write this letter for a long time but everytime I sit down I get flooded with so many thoughts I want to pen down that I don't know where to start. Let me begin by saying that I love you and that you are my hero! Growing up , I have always held you as my idol and tried to emulate your positive qualities and always dreamt of being as successful as you were when I grew up. I love to hear stories from your childhood. I think 'Swami' from Malgudi days was a direct lift from your childhood :) Even though you were the tenth son of a government school teacher, you worked your way to own a company ! Your honesty , hardwork and leadership sense have always held me in awe.

I know I am a very pampered daughter. I still remember the Sunday morning oil baths you used to give Vivek and me. I still remember the 'thachi mummam' dinners you used to hand feed Vivek and me when amma was taking care of her botique. Not to mention the grammar lessons and the 'learning to read time from the clock' episode (where you would constantly lose patience trying to teach me :) ). I know you did not have the time to actively take part in all my school activities (I forgive you that you forgot what class I studied in sometimes :)), but you have given me far more valuable lessons than anyone else ever can.

I am proud of the fact that you wanted a girl child and were the happiest person when I was born! There was never a single point in my life when you laid different rules for Vivek than for me. Amma and you always gave me full freedom and made me learn my limits without restricting me. You always made sure that every need of ours was always met even before we would ask for it. I love your spirituality and am greatful that I developed an interest in it through you.

You know you got a new lease of life after your heart attack just a couple of months before Chintu was born. I will be ever greatful to you for flying back here just 15 days after your surgery , just to be with me and see your grandson! I will be ever greatful to you for helping amma and me out after my delivery...for making me my favorite soups, keeping the house clean, helping amma in cooking, because without you chipping in , amma would have had a stressful life. You are mentally a very strong person and you have amazing will power.

Today, Chintu is crazy about his tatha. He remembers you when he eats oranges, when he sees someone working in the garden, when I give him salad leaves, when he sees a moustache, when I sing him your lullaby....oh the list is endless - he adores his 'thaachi tatha!'

Appa...I can go on and on...but words cannot express my true feelings for you. You are simply the best , period. I know you will forgive me for all my immaturity through the years.
I want you to live a very long and healthy life...for me and for my Chintu. You are the only person that can teach him the things you taught me...

I LOVE YOU PA....

Daddy and Cholesterol

This post is by Poppins of Babies Anonymous

I remember only snatches of my life with my Daddy.

Him carrying me on his shoulder and having me pat my mother's shoulder when she was cooking, so that she would turn around and talk to him after they had an argument.

Or him doing a 'Statue' game with us and always freezing in the most contorted silly way possible.

His curly mop and mole on his forehead, a face that looks remarkably like my own.

His death. The expression on my mother's face when she saw my uncle return from the hospital one morning with my dad's blankets and pillows. The wailing that ensued. And me and my sister giggling because we didn't know the gravity of the situation.

These are all the things I remember. The rest I was told about, by family and by my mom. About what a gentle person he was, how notorious he was in his childhood, his escapades to the night show at the movies after arranging pillows under the blankets and so on.

My mom would always tell me that he never raised his voice during an argument. After a few minutes of screaming when my mom asked him why he was so quiet, he would say that it took two hands to clap (meaning it takes two people to make an argument). He frequently brought sleeveless blouses for my mom (which she promptly attached sleeves to) and was the one with the wailing babies outside the theater, while my mom watched the movie in peace. He waited patiently outside the locked door when he came back home unexpectedly early from office, while my mom was still not back from her shopping trips.

He was a teetotaller. And a good kind liberal man. The circumstances of his death are unclear to me. I know that he had a relapse of jaundice, then had a kidney failure. Then painful dialysis followed by heart attacks. He finally died after a massive heart attack at the age of 38. I later discovered that he had high cholesterol.

Aaaha, now we come to the title.

So now, the other daddy in my life aka poppin's daddy recently got himself a health checkup. He's only 31, is very physically active and other than an extreme liking for oily snacks, is quite a good eater. But he discovered that he has borderline high cholesterol. That has got me nervous.

When I was living in the US, I used to be careful about cooking. My own personal history with my dad, had ensured that I try to cook healthy. I have done enough research on that to earn a diploma and I am quite aware of the calorific value of my food. But I have slipped recently. Ever since I got pregnant, I relaxed quite a bit and my moving to India has not helped any.

This recent health checkup however had made me pull my socks a little bit. Now I am back to watching the oil content, stocking the pantry with heart healthy foods and cooking in olive oil. I don't want to sound morbid, but I don't want my poppin to miss out on a lifetime with her daddy.

My message to everyone on Father's day is to take care of the Daddies in your life. At the risk of sounding regressive, I will say that we women do the bulk of the cooking and it is in our hands to provide a heart healthy diet. Also since stress is a key component, I think a bit (or more) of loving all around will help :-) For the physically lazy dads, let's inspire them to join us for walks or a game of tennis.

Happy Father's day. Here's to a happy healthy year !

Crossposted at my blog

Dadda's girl

This post has also been cross-posted at my blog, Moppet Tales.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has always been more than just my dad. He's my friend, my teacher, my rock. He is my hero.

Not because of what he has achieved, although it is a lot to be proud of. A boy who grew up in a small village in Kerala and studied up to class 10 in a Malayalam medium school. Who would run barefoot to school, and return to take the buffalos out to graze. Whose family thought he had arrived in life when he got a job as a lecturer in a rural college. Who dreamed of being more, quit and financed his higher education (and supported his family) through hard-won scholarships. Who is today, a published author and respected professor at one of the finest institutes in the country.

Not because he is an enlightened, involved husband and father, and was one even at a time when it was considered infra dig for a Mallu man to help the wife out in the kitchen or deal with the kids' night time tantrums and other messy tasks involved in child-rearing.

Not because he is the most fair-minded person I know. Or because I can talk to him about anything - anything at all - without fear of judgement or recrimination. I know he will always tell me the truth, even if it is unpleasant.

Not because of his fierce integrity, the courage to live by his principles, and his straightforward honesty. Not even because of his warm heart and generous soul.

Not because of the fact that despite his achievements, he is always striving to be better - both professionally and personally. Last year he asked me for feedback on his parenting approach. He wanted to know if I wished he had done anything differently. I cannot begin to describe how touched and amazed I am by that gesture.

Yes, all of this makes my father an amazing person. It makes me strive every day to be more like him, but that is not why he's my hero.

He is my hero and always will be, simply because he's my Dadda.

Pops

[This post was written by Tharini of Winkie's Way.]

Many many years ago....some 24 years ago in fact, in the land of Ethiopia in the sleepy little town of Nazareth, lived a family. Father, mother, and 2 sisters. Father was a teacher. Mother stayed at home to bring up the daughters. They didn't have a lot of money. In fact, it was just enough to make ends meet. But they were happy. Father would take on little odd jobs every now and then. He had an avid interest in mechanics and people called on him to come and fix their little broken gadgets.

One such time, he had to make a trip to Addis Ababa and he took his older daughter along. It was evening when they reached the house of the person who had called on him. Their son's Meccano train set wasn't working properly. Could he fix it? Of course he could. He could fix anything!! That's what the little girl thought, as she watched her father intently at work. The family was in another room, and the Father and little girl were sitting on the floor of the living room. As he worked steadily, a little desire took flame within him. He wanted to buy a similar set for his children. He looked over at his little girl and she was sitting quietly beside him, looking longingly at the expensive toy. He told her, "I'll buy you one too....just like this." She looked up at him, taken a little aback by the intensity in his voice, and felt a surging pride for her father.
..........................................................................[Pic courtesy of Meccano]

I feel that same surging pride to this day. I was a 6 year old girl back then, and I remember all my feelings from that evening. It was a beautiful train set and my father got it back into working order. He gave it many test runs to make sure it was working fine, and we enjoyed the toy like it were ours exclusively, for those few precious minutes. And I wanted that meccano Train set so badly. Not for myself. But for my father. I wanted it for the longing I sensed in him to satiate all our wants and be the best possible provider. I wanted it for the sense of satisfaction it would give him. I just wanted it for him, because he wanted it for us. It was that simple. And this incident is one of the biggest stand alone memories I have of my father.

He was true to his word. He saved up money diligently over the next 2 years and once we returned to India, he wrote to the company in Amsterdam and placed the order. But they took a long time to fulfil it. And when it did arrive, it was in damaged condition. So, he asked for a refund and that was the end of that. But even now he talks to me about it and Winkie's fascination with trains has renewed that desire in him.

My father is a teacher. I say this again and again, because it is perhaps, the biggest part of who he is and what makes him tick. He doesn't just teach, he lives it. He was one of the biggest favorites among the teaching faculty at Hindu High School in Chennai. To this day, his students from that time still keep in touch with him and come to meet him. But money was tight and he had to meet the needs of a growing family. So when the opportunity in Ethiopia came up, he jumped at it. The money wasn't substantial, but he wanted the foreign exposure and the experience of teaching in a different setting. So he went alone at first. Family members urged him to finish his stint there alone and return, but he refused to be separated from his wife and kids. So after 6 months, we went too. An impressionable 6 year old, a very naughty 1 year old and my mother with the lure of foreign lands beckoning.

We spent a good 1 year there. My Dad once again won the hearts of all his students there and was named the Best Teacher of the year. He didn't renew his contract since I couldn't be enrolled in school there due to language issues, and we returned to India a year later. My little brother was born, and after a few months, the teaching offer from Bahrain came along. Once again he took it up with gusto. It was probably the best decision he ever made, for it changed all our lives, and for the better. And I'll always remember and think of Bahrain as my first real home, where I had the most happy memories growing up.

Fitting into the role of teacher there came naturally to him. He was passionate about his profession, which to him was nothing short of a calling. He loved being with his students and they became drawn to him too. All the girls in the class were darlings and the all the boys chimp, gibbon and orangutans!!! Year after year he taught, and with every year he got younger. During those early growing years, I don't remember having much of a bond with him. I think we shared the regular father-daughter relationship, whatever that might be and time passed by. And it was not until I was into my teens did I realise what a gem of a person I had for a father.

When I was in 9th standard, he was my Physics teacher. I still remember that first day, when we had the Physics period, and I was sooo nervous at the prospect of having my father walk in and take the class. For everybody knew who I was. And all eyes were on me to see how I would react. I just remember blushing furiously the whole time. He walked in, right on time. I don't remember what happened next. I wish I did...but my mind draws a complete blank. Maybe because I was all keyed up about it? Anyways, the initial trepidation wore off and he started talking Physics and then it wasn't so bad. I think, once in between, he looked at me and we smiled at each other. 45 minutes went by, and the bell rang. He walked out, and the murmur of voices began. A classmate who was sitting right across the aisle from me, turned around with a wide smile and declared....Tharini....I love your Dad, he's so cool!

I can't begin to describe how that made me feel. Needless to say, she went on to become one of my best friends of all time. :) But I think that really was the changing point of our whole relationship. I began to see him through the eyes of his students who worshipped him, and began to realise how incredibly lucky I was to have him for myself at home. Many a times, his students have come upto me and said...You're so lucky to have a Dad like that.

Having a parent teach in the same school you go to, has its pros and cons. For instance, you can't get away with a whole lot of things, like bunking classes, a missed assignment, poor grades etc. News had a way of reaching with lightning speed. But thankfully, it wasn't something I worried about much, because I was a good student on the whole. The pro of course was that you gain a sort of celebrity status among your peers and seniors. I've walked along the corridors many a times, to have people whisper amongst themselves...that's Mr. Shiva's daughter. Its hard not to get pumped up with that kind of attention especially when you're a teen. The fun part was when I crossed him, by chance, in the corridoors and we had this little game that we played with each other. I'd look his way, smile brightly and chirp...Good morning, Sir....formally and he'd reply...Good Morning Ma'am...with equal formality. In many a recess, me and my friends would prefer to amble over to his staffroom and chat with him, to chatting amongst ourselves. And we'd always find one or the other student there ahead of us. He has been a counseller, friend, confidant and guide. And its no wonder that he won the Best Teacher's Award there as well. It was one of the most satisfying moments of his career, I think.

There is a single incident that captures the spirit of my father, my teacher. It happened when I was in the 10th standard, and he was taking a class. He was talking about the Big Bang Theory I think, and it started to rain outside. Now rain in Bahrain, the way I remember it, was not a regular occurence, and so there was a novelty attached to it when it happened. All our eyes darted to the window and we tried hard to stay focussed in class but we were clearly distracted. He noticed. He got up from the table that he was leaning against, and put down the piece of chalk. He dusted his hands off and declared the rest of the period free. And he watched the rain with us. I've never felt more proud of him than in that one single moment when he became one among us. As we continued to watch the rain and hear the thunder, he talked of a song....a rain song which he had listened some years ago and liked so much...he tried to remember the words....and then he hummed the song out for us...

Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain
Telling me just what a fool I've been
I wish that it would go and let me crying then
And let me be alone again.
The only girl I've cared about is gone away
Looking for her brand new start.
But little does she know that when she left that day
Along with her she took my heart.
Rain please tell her that I love her so
Please ask the sun to set her heart aglow
Rain in her heart and let the love we knew start to grow.
Oh listen to the falling rain....pitter patter pitter patter...

My school to me was nothing short of a second home, given that both my parents worked there for the biggest part of their lives. I have walked through every corridoor in every building and I love it with all my heart. One of the biggest highlights was when I walked along the same corridoors wth my father, as he held a 9 month old Winkie. That day was unforgettable.

I owe my father a lot more than just my education. He's the catalyst that propelled me towards books and music. And if I have any knowledge and appreciation for the music of the yesteryears, it is because of the special magic wand he waved over me. He's 61 years old and gives the phrase young at heart a whole new spin. He'd probably gasp at that number and tell me....I don't feel 61 ma. Flip the number....that's how old I am. :)

So celebrating him this Father's Day comes naturally to me. I wish he were in front of me so I could give him a big huge hug, but since I can't....I'll just say....Happy Father's Day to you Pops. You are my teacher, you are my friend, you are my inspiration, you are my love. And you are the legend that comes to life every single day. Here's dedicating to you something you wrote me once, when we had to part...

Theme for the Month of June!

(This post is from Asha of Foodie's Hope blog)

Hi mommies, hope you are all enjoying the Sunshine and enjoyed sharing your wonderful stories for the whole month of Mother's day. Now it's our fathers turn to be loved and cherished who are equally important in our lives,specially for daughters.He may be out of the house a lot, but remember the stories he told you,the love and that special bond you shared with him.

So, let's make the theme for the month of June, "Father's day!"
The same rules and guidelines apply.Every week Thursday to Saturday,feel free to say thank you to your dads and share any sweet tidbits you might have.Non members can send articles to the e mail provided on the sidebar to Sandeepa so she can post your's as well.Thank you,let's make it special for dads too! Go ahead and share your thoughts!:)

A tribute to my own:
My father has always been a very special person and a great friend to me.I adore my dad and he is the one person nobody can replace in my life! He is a wonderful, very talkative(was a lawyer and then a judge,can you blame him?!),fun loving,positive thinking person and I shared my most of my private thoughts and talks with him as a young girl rather than with my mother.He is the most understanding and rational guy, gave me many great advice regarding important decisions I had to make in my life.Let me take this opportunity and say to him "I love you Daddy and I cherish your presence every second of my life.Thank you for being a great dad.Happy Father's day!"

Father's Day is celebrated in USA on Sunday, June 17.
Here are some beautiful quotes and history of how Father's Day came about in USA.

A father carries pictures where his money used to be. — Unknown

When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years. — Mark Twain

"A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman he turns her back again." -- Enid Bagnold

"It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was." -- Anne Sexton

"I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection." -- Sigmund Freud

A history of Father's day:
"The history of Father's Day is very interesting. The thought for creating a day for children to honor their fathers began in Spokane, Washington. The idea of having the Father's Day came to the mind of Sonora Smart while listening to a Mother's Day sermon in 1909.

After the death of her mother, she along with her siblings was raised by her father, William Jackson Smart. Sonora wanted to tell her father how special he was. Sonora's father was born in June, so she chose to hold the first Father's Day celebration in Spokane, Washington on the 19th of June, 1910.

The National Father's Day Committee was formed in New York City in 1926. A Joint Resolution of Congress recognized the Father's day in 1956 and in 1966 President Richard Nixon established a permanent national observance of Father's Day to be held on the third Sunday of June. Thus, the Father's Day was born in memory and appreciation by a daughter who believed that her father and all other fathers should be honored with a special day.

In the United States, the first modern Father's Day celebration was held on July 5, 1908, in Fairmont, West Virginia. It was first celebrated as a church service at Williams Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church South, now known as Central United Methodist Church". (Info from WIKIPEDIA)

Make it special for your dads and don't forget your kids' dad as well!! Go ahead, let's hear it ladies:))