Cherishing ones parents

Cherishing ones parents while they are alive
My parents are divorced. They separated about four years ago, in one of the most dramatic ways possible. My mother suffered a lot after the separation, and almost died in the process, but by gods grace recovered. As a diabetic, she developed a chest infection and related cardio-vascular complications and was in the ICU for a long time before she recovered totally. And my father re-married in the meanwhile.
I could not forgive my father for a long time, and refused to speak to him for many months. The anger I felt for him during that period was real and justified. How could he walk away from my mother, who had spent the best 35 years of her life with him, given him two sons ( who turned out pretty ok) and stood by him in times of trouble ? How could this man be so ungrateful and run after a younger woman ? I simply couldn’t understand what the hell he was thinking ? Had he lost his mind ?
My elder brother, who is a good five years older than I am to this day does not speak with my father. He is bitter, angry and upset with the way my father dealt with my mother. It wasnot just the way in which we had to leave our home - in which both of us grew up; lived for more than 20 years, but also the way in which my father constructed arguments about how he was “tired” of life with my mother and wanted some freedom.
Ramadhan reminds me of one particular year ( a few months before they separated) when we would all sit down for our pre-dawn meal ( suhoor) around 4 in the morning, with dad waking us all up; mom following him into the kitchen sleepily and us preparing for the meal. Not much was said, but we could all sense that this Ramadhan was different. Earlier, there would be some jokes, conversations during the meal. But this year, it was tense. The atmosphere in the dining room itself was quite tense and one could feel it in the air throughout the month. I sensed that something was wrong. And one of the days during Suhoor, my dad announced that he wanted a divorce. My mother started to cry inconsolably and my brother took charge of the situation, trying to mediate between my parents; trying to make sense of the madness that was going on.

It is strange when one is asked to judge one’s parents. And also stranger when one is asked to choose between them. No matter how grown up we feel we are, no matter what age - the affection that we feel for our parents remains the same. With age, we may be able to rationalise a bit more, we may be able to put things in perspective- but the fact remains that we still love and care for them as much - if our relationship with them has been good.
I was in Chennai in April of 2004 when my brother called to inform me that my mom had to be admitted to the hospital, followed by prolonged fever. The doctors kept her in the ICU for a week, before shifting her to the general ward. They informed us that she had developed acute Cardio-vascular problems and had to be kept under observation. I was in Chennai promoting a friends work. It was the year of the Tsumani and we were there organizing a charity show for victims of the terrible tragedy - with my friend Akumal Ramachander playing the good Samaritan. He had invited me to be part of the show, and though I did not really have much of a role there, I invited a few friends from Chennai to come and visit the exhibition and partake in the “live painting” that Milind Nayak, the artist did. Milind produced an amazing work of abstract art, a 8 feet by 6 feet in just under two hours, live in front of us. Using un-conventional tools such as toothbrush, a Saw and many other implements which have nothing to do with painting, he produced a breath-taking piece of art which was auctioned for over Rs.100,000 immediately after the show. It was bought by a New Zealand based Psychologist.
Ravi Candadai, the Consul General for Public Affairs, US Embassy who was our host ( and a friend of Akumal) invited us home later for lunch ( and the painting exhibition moved to his bungalow later on ). Ravi, a career bureaucrat and a multi-linguist ( he spoke over seven languages with ease), and I can definitely vouch for his Urdu ( much better than mine). While having lunch, he shared a few interesting anecdotes about his life and work in the US. When I got the call from Bangalore and informed him that my mother was sick, he insisted that I go home, despite my commitment to stay in Chennai till the end of the show and see it through.
He insisted that I leave as soon as possible and said “ You must cherish your parents while they are alive, because once they are gone; you will never have the opportunity to do anything for them”.
I thought this through all along my journey to Bangalore and finally got home to Bangalore and went straight to the hospital. My mother was doing better, though she was sick.
The next day I went to meet my father. The silence was broken, and I spoke to him after nearly six months of ignoring his existence. Ravi’s words had had their effect.