A eulogy for Ambooken uncle

This is going to be a eulogy for someone I respect immensely. His closed ones were shocked to know of his passing on 8th May. This was my appachan (dad)'s best friend, they have known each other for more than 35 years. As I write this I am not even able to begin to fathom the finality of life.

A friend affects all spheres of one's life. And so did Ambooken uncle appachan's. He was a father like figure for me in many ways. The only reason I was sent to a school 24 kms away from home was his persistence in persuading amma and appachan. Even a slight bit of apprehension appachan had, he wiped away by strongly pointing out how girls should be very well educated. I think he played the biggest role in clearing amma's reluctance to send a 4 year old in a jeep traveler so far away to school insisting on our bright future. Amma and appachan were also comforted by his presence so close to school. So in a way what and where my sister are in life, we owe it to him.

There have been numerous times when appachan had been called to school urgently due to some injury we had or some sickness. And each time we knew in 10 minutes time Ambooken uncle would be at school, because for my appachan to reach school would take at least an hour given the distance. This one time my sister hurt her chin and was bleeding profusely I was called in and made to tell appachan over phone how bad the situation was and that she might need immediate stitches. I remember I was so perplexed as a 11 year old when appachan asked how bad it was, sensing his tension. It took Ambooken uncle 5 minutes to be at school and the wave of relief I experienced when I saw him because I knew I could trust him to decide just like my dad would for Sara and me. Now when I am nearing 30 I realize what a great human he must be, because for a child to trust someone like their parent isn't that natural.

I have never seen a parent who is as proud of his children as he. I think this attitude also rubbed off on my appachan. Years later when George (his youngest son) and I met in college, we exchanged notes on the fact that how are dads asked us to learn from each other, which was surprising for both us because they never let their pride for their children down. But it also showed me how much my dad respected this man.

The man cannot be remembered without his sense of humor. He lights up every gathering. Years later even after leaving behind my nest whenever amma and appachan return from a colleague's party I ask if Ambooken uncle and Rinsy aunty were there, to know if the party was lively that was all was needed. Some of my best childhood memories are the numerous family trips we have taken. A particularly fond trip was the one to Darjeeling and Gangtok. Ambooken uncle used to make so much fun of appachan's paunch and how appachan is a few months pregnant. 20 years or so after the trip, we still laugh over that joke. His jokes were never hurtful and I have started realizing how that is the kind of humor this world needs more of.

He had a heart to help anyone in need. On the very same trip to Darjeeling, my sister fell sick on the train. He walked up and down the train compartments trying to find a doctor. When amma's brother (for him, his friend's brother in law) was in hospital for a major surgery, he inquired regularly for my uncle's health and even visited my uncle. That is how much he valued every relationship.

My dad retired from office a year ago and Ambooken unlce, 10 days ago. My dad was really looking forward to enjoying their retired life together. It was going to be a lot of trips like the old days and my parents were really excited for this phase of their life. I also knew they had a great companion in Ambooken uncle for their lives ahead and it was always a sense of relief to know that. Our loss is nothing compared to his family's. The short span he lived, he did live a very happy life.

Ambooken uncle, as my eulogy 'Your memory lights up our lives. And I would like to say THANK YOU for being who you were.'

Anna

The story of the ink pen

Whoever knows me, knows my fetish for stationery. Like my roommate who is a behavioral economics student pointed out, it is an "unsophisticated present bias" which is a term used for consumers who know they have a problem but are not willing to change it to increase their utility. Anyhow I have recently shifted completely to using ink pens for the minimal writing I do. Do not be fooled, I have multiple ink pens and different colors of ink as well.

I filled my ink pen in the morning today and happened to write a lot that the ink ran out by the evening. This reminded me of something my grandmom always used to tell me “if you fill the ink once a week, there is enough to run for the whole week.” She could not be more wrong but I vehemently believed her and refused to check the ink level and it ran out on me every week at school, leaving me to borrow a pen from my classmates or shift to using a ball point pen. But this belief has stayed with me more like a superstition all through the years.

Everyone who is in their late twenties, as I am, would remember the famous ‘Hero’ pens as they were fondly called when we were in middle school. That is when we were allowed to shift from the pencils to the fountain pen. Later I got to know from my husband that they were known as ‘Chinese’ pen in his school. Somehow it all makes sense now. But I like the name ‘hero’ pens because it helps me reflect on the heroic entry they made into our lives. One of the biggest things we looked forward to in moving up to the 5^th grade in school was taking notes in pens than in the boring pencils. The boys of my school might have been keener about the 5^th grade because of their promotion into long trousers from the shorts. Such an important transitioning year the 5^th grade is. You also start having to take exams instead of worksheets.

So I owned a ‘hero’ pen too in my 5^th grade. Unfortunately or fortunately it was the one my dad used during his college days. I know, everyone must be thinking ‘ooh! fancy heirloom!’ Let me assure you there was nothing heirloomy about it. It was mostly because a ‘hero’ pen did cost a bit too much for a middle class family, this was the era privatization of the Indian economy had started only a decade earlier, so ‘Chinese’ pens were still very expensive. I think I did eventually get the cheaper and affordable ‘Camel ink pen’ (now Camlin since the Japanese company take over).

My hero pen unlike the new ones which my classmates owned, had a pliant tiny pump. The tininess of it cannot be overly emphasized. This ensured that I ran out of ink every single day. Then what was peculiar about my old ‘hero’ pen was it did not have a hooded fine nib, rather an arrow nib jutting out of the end of the pen. It did have the classic golden arrow on the nib nevertheless. This was proof for me that this was the ‘hero’ pen of yesteryears. It leaked and blotted profusely but I kept on because I believed in heirlooms and you are never to downplay them. Unless some days my classmates took fancy to this peculiar pen and exchanged mine with theirs – I would more than happily agree to the exchange because deep in my heart I knew the modern ‘hero’ pens worked better.

This time when I went home, my dad and I happened to go to a stationery shop to get some photocopies and I chanced upon the ‘hero’ pen. Interestingly like a 10 year old I pleaded my dad to get me one, because he was ticking me off for buying things I don’t need. These are things parents just won’t understand. To satisfy the dreams of your childhood. Guess what it cost only Rs 30, which looked so meagre considering our real incomes these days. Anyhow I gleefully bought it, only to realize it was just as horrible as my ‘heirloom hero pen.’ Though I never told this to my dad who was still bothered about my materialistic cravings.

A simple Google search tells me childhood pen is the 'vintage Hero 443.' Despite all this I have to say that my ‘hero’ pen never failed on me, and I think it still is lying around at home. I intend to pass it on to my kids as it is an ‘heirloom’ now and also for the fun of seeing they get tortured with my ‘hero.’