PlainGeets

If you have spoken to me about my ambitions (or seen my interview on Maddyness), you know that the guiding light in my career has been my father. While the path I’ve taken has been entirely mine, and not necessarily one he would have chosen for me, the way in which I’ve forged my path, and the quiet steadiness with which I’ve built my career has been entirely guided by him, even though he left us before I could start my professional life. Showing up day after day, doing everything I did with 100% sincerity, allowing my work to prove my value, asking for my rights without screaming, and even walking away with my head held high when the other party didn’t value my work…it’s all Papa. 

But Papa hasn’t guided me only in my professional life. There’s so much he has taught me even about love, best illustrated with these lines from Edward Dyer’s poem on silent love:

“Where waters smoothest run, there deepest are the fords,

The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move;

The firmest faith is found in fewest words,

The turtles do not sing, and yet they love…”

Let me explain. Papa forgot important days, like birthdays and anniversaries. Was often late for birthday dinners. Didn’t believe in extravagant gestures. But in his own quiet way he did so much for those he loved. He might not have gifted my mother diamonds, or taken her for vacations, but he showed his love for her in so many other ways. 

To me the biggest example of his love was the clothes horse which he got custom-built for her requirements. Drying clothes during the Bombay monsoon is not easy. Amma was (and still is) very particular about clothes drying properly and fully, so that they don’t retain that horrid all pervading damp smell. Back then, it was a common sight to see clothes strung across balconies for days on end, waiting for that break in the rain so they could finally dry properly. We had a terrace, so that made it easier, but there were still days when the rain wouldn’t let up. 

So Papa brought out his engineering drawing board, picked up the pencil, and designed a clothes horse that could be quickly wheeled into the house when it started raining. Think Trojan Horse, but built for drying clothes.

But unlike Odysseus and Epeius, Papa and Pandit (our carpenter) had no nefarious purpose in mind when they built this horse. Made of aluminum channels (the kind you see in modern offices), it was light, but not too light to be unsteady. Customized for Amma’s height, it also took into account that wet clothes need to have enough distance between them for adequate airing. And it had castor wheels which enabled her to pull it wherever she wanted to put it, without exerting herself. 

I have countless memories of putting clothes out to dry with Amma, or running out to drag it inside when the skies suddenly opened up. Some of my own habits of laundry can easily be traced back to that clothes horse. In many ways, that clothes horse is a symbol of happy times in Gayatri, our home for 24 years. A symbol of Papa’s steady love for us. The love that continues to guide me through every challenge I’ve ever faced.