Day 20: Preserving memories

"Thy Lord hath decreed that ye worship none but Him, and that ye be kind to parents. Whether one or more attain old age in thy life, say not to them a word of contempt, nor repel them, but address them in terms of honor. And out of kindness, lower to them the wing of humility, and say, "my Lord! bestow on them Thy Mercy, even as they cherished me in childhood." (Quran 17: 23,24)

My father is an amazing storyteller. He has such vivid, wonderful anecdotes about his childhood and growing up years in Calcutta and London.  I've heard these stories dozens of times over the years; each time they sound more interesting -- in part because of how he relates them, in part because of how I hear them.  I've always wanted to record my father telling his story, and today I finally started.

His four grand kids were together, and after iftar we all sat in the new family room for story time with Nana/Dada.  My father began with the first most momentous event in his life -- his mother's death.  His grandchildren were hooked.  The youngest among them had the most questions to ask:  how did she die, Dada? how old were you? how do you get cholera? where was she when she died?  My father was seven years old when his mother passed away -- the same age as his youngest grandchild, who kept peppering him with questions, trying to get his young mind around such a grave tragedy.  My father talked about his brothers, his one and only sister, and especially his brother-in-law.  He told us how he had never wanted to go to England to study, that he didn't feel he could succeed. He was content learning to play the guitar, going to movies with his friend every Sunday, collecting stamps, and saving his pocket money for little treasures from the family auction house.  But his brother-in-law insisted. He believed in my father more than my father believed in himself.  Part I of the story ended tonight with my father going to the station in Calcutta to catch a train to Bombay, and then a ship to London.  Dozens of family members came to wish him well, garlanding him with flowers. His father came too -- in a wheelchair. He had suffered a stroke just days before.

The four grand kids sat mesmerized, not wanting the story to end.  Perhaps they saw their grandfather in a new light; perhaps they thought about how different their own lives are. Whatever the case, they now know a little bit more about who they are, where they come from, and just how far they can dream.  Day 20: Deed 20: Recording life, preserving memories.