My father turned 90 sometime back. Not a remarkable achievement, you’d say, particularly in these days of increased longevity. What is remarkable though is the difference he makes to every life he touches.
As commanding officer of an Air Force Station, he had a very high opinion of one of his officers, who he believed was good at his job. Unfortunately, those of us at home didn’t quite share this assessment. It took daddy all of a minute to understand what was bothering us. “You don’t think he’s subordinate enough!” he laughed. He was probably right.
When my father asks for an honest critique and analysis he means just that—even if it does not flatter him. Once his unit was conducting war exercises and personnel were categorised as ‘Indians’ and ‘the enemy’. All were strictly instructed to accurately play their roles, irrespective of the actual hierarchy. My father and his team were designated ‘the enemy’ and they approached the unit checkpoint, intent upon capturing it. The ‘Indians’ at the checkpoint let the ‘enemy’ commanding officer proceed. For this differential interpretation of roles, they got a sound dressing-down.
As a father also he was always there for us. Some instances stand out in my memory.
In the fifth class, I, who had always been a top-scoring student, failed in math. Then, my father set about ensuring that I would pass the supplementary exam, which was two months away, with a perfect score. He would wake up early every morning to draw up math questions before he left for office. I had to present the answers for his scrutiny upon his return in the evening. And when I scored full marks, my father was not surprised.
I recall another incident when I was around 12. The movie Dr. Dolittle had released and I was keen to see it. My father promised to take me. And he never, ever, goes back on his word. Unluckily, the movie was on for just a week and he had a high-level inspection at his office during the same period. Soon it was the last evening of the show.
All dressed up, I waited until eight in the evening and then gave up. Daddy finally reached home bone-tired at 8.30. But to him, a promise was a promise. Although I was not usually allowed for late-night shows, he asked me to get ready. As soon as we took our seats in the theatre he fell asleep while I settled in to watch the movie.
What else can I say? They just don’t make them like him anymore! Many more happy returns of the day, Air Marshal.
Renuka Chidambaram
Email: raychid@hotmail.com