A Message of Gratitude

Mom and Dad, March 2014

So.. today is my birthday. Yours truly has spent 27 rather eventful years on this earth. To be frank, I had actually forgotten that it was my birthday (not actually much of a 'celebrator' of prefixed dates of ritualistic jubilance). But thanks to the wonder that is social media and the miracle that is a caring family, I was reminded in time.

I usually don't get much excited about 'birth' days, because I never actually got the point. I associate celebration with achievements or relief, and being born as a helpless bundle of flesh, on a day that you don't actually remember, never really counted as either to me. 

But as the 'wishes' keep rolling in (thank you Zuckerberg - rolls eyes), I had to take a step back and consider the situation from other possible and fashionably ignored angles. What is one supposed to feel? Gratitude? Joy? Hope? 

After the necessary amount of pondering one is allowed on Sundays, I focused on gratitude as the other two just didn't make sense. Then, of course, the question became twofold - what am I thankful for and who am I thankful to?

The introspection and reflection that followed led me to a single, unfortunately unbeaten path that swerved and meandered to the two singular individuals that I have the good fortune to call 'my own'. Funny isn't it? To call someone your own - indebted slavery born of love. In their misfortune lies my fortune, I guess.

I am, by the way, referring to my parents - M. N. Jayakumar and Sudha Jayakumar.

In every identifiable element of happiness I can muster on this day, the 13th of April, their names are ingrained in ways that are impervious to fickle and self serving rationale.

I am from them, I am of them, I am by them, I am with them and therefore, logically, I should find it in me to be for them in some capacity permitted by the variables in my conditional existence. And if not - if the strength of the narcissistic motivations that drive my very human existence prove too much (as they have over the years), I could and should, at the very least thank them.

For what? For a plethora of tangled acts of kindness and love that has made sure I survived and thrived as 'me' - or this version of me, that I love and am comfortable with.

And that is the only thing I can think of worth celebrating on this historically uneventful, pleasant summer day - the existence of two people who showed me, and to the best of their capabilities held my hand through years of unanticipated loss and fragility, manifested out of innocence, naivety and humanity.

My family, 1991

Two people who set before me countless unswerving, irrefutable examples and pragmatic definitions of what it is to be 'human' and by chance or will, what it is to be 'good'. To be more clear - this wasn't done by these two very 'human' people on the strength of childish fables and malleable principles passed down from 'their own people'. No. They managed to explain and demonstrate through simplistically courageous living and elegantly bold choices, unheard of by many and unapproved by most, that the best things in life are free and the world scares only those who fear themselves.

And believe me when I say - the sheer generosity of spirit and thought that drove them, through trouble and toil (to which I have been a callous contributor over the years), was fundamentally life altering to a child plagued with curiosity and accepting of doubt.

What possible courses might my life have taken had it not been for two caring souls who declared without hesitation at every twist and turn of the path to the present- "Fear not my child, we are right by your side."

This overdue expression of heartfelt sentiment would indeed be tediously wordy, for even my tastes, if I dove in to intelligent descriptions of their respective characters and combined identity. But just to lay waste to any questions of fulfilling and stable picturesque childhoods which shaped their minds, melted their hearts and blinded their eyes to the visions of the dreary world out 'there' - my parents grew up knowing what is 'real', to put it mildly and taking care not to dwell in the past.

So, again I state, with unbridled acceptance and unforgiving understanding which strike me ever so seldom -

"For being here and being able to feel joy and remorse and sorrow and hope and anger and every shade in between and beyond.. for being susceptible to ambition and desire and every mental construct defined.. for being able to think and articulate and express.. for memories and wishes and dreams.. for birthing me and then showing me the way to being 'me' and staying 'me', even if it meant hurting themselves.. for everything till now and many things yet to come - 

I thank you, Mom and Dad.. "