Happy Birthday, Appa ❤️

 Happy Birthday, Appa ❤️

For everyone, their father is a hero. For me too.

One of my earliest memories is from when I was studying in the 3rd standard. We had gone to a temple as a family. While returning, my father asked me to get seats on the bus. I managed to get them, but after a few minutes, a man who was much taller and more strongly built than my father, with a thick moustache, came to take the seat and pushed me roughly and I fell down..

The moment my father saw that, he became angry. Within moments, it turned into a fistfight, and both of them ended up with torn shirt pockets and missing buttons. As a little boy, I was frightened, but that day I also understood how deeply my father loved me. Looking back today, I don't remember the fear as much as I remember the feeling of being protected.

If you look at my childhood photos, you'll notice something special. In almost 70% of them, I'm in my father's arms. That itself tells the story of our relationship.

Another memory that always stays with me happened at the Tirunelveli New Bus Stand. We were returning home from a temple and waiting for the bus. My mother and I wanted to buy samosas and medu vadas from a nearby shop. My father immediately said no. His reason was simple.

"You don't know what oil they use. Outside food isn't healthy."

But my mother and I were hungry. So we secretly bought the snacks anyway. Standing in front of him, we happily teased him by saying, "Do you know how tasty this is?"

He didn't argue. He didn't scold us. He simply looked at us.

Even today, I can clearly remember that look. Without saying a single word, his expression itself communicated everything: "This isn't good for you." It was a calm, silent look filled with conviction. Somehow, that silent expression spoke louder than any lecture ever could.

That was my father.

Discipline wasn't something he preached. It was something he lived every single day.

The nickname "Robot" was actually given by my mother. I still remember that moment very clearly. One day she jokingly said,

"There's a robot in this house. It wakes up at five in the morning, looks after the business perfectly, takes care of every responsibility, does everything on time, doesn't laugh much, and follows the same routine every single day."

At that exact moment, my father walked into the house after finishing all the ice factory accounts. He smiled a little. We all laughed, especially my mother. But after that brief smile, he simply continued with his work exactly as before.

That was him.

He started exercising when he was just 17 years old. Today, at the age of 70, he still maintains the same discipline. He sleeps around 9 PM, wakes up between 4 and 5 AM, exercises regularly, and takes great care of his health.

Many people assume that someone this disciplined must also be very strict. Surprisingly, my father is exactly the opposite.

He is one of the kindest and most lenient people I have ever known. Except when it came to unhealthy outside food, he rarely said "no" to us.

Whenever I wanted permission to visit a friend's house or go somewhere, I never asked my mother first. I always asked my father because I knew he would most likely say yes. Then I would go to my mother and confidently tell her, "Appa already said yes." Most of the time, she would agree. Looking back now, I'm sure they probably had their own conversations afterwards, but that little shortcut worked for me almost every time.

Another quality I always admired was his confidence. I have never seen anyone as confident as my father I watched him handle countless challenges in our ice factory as if they were nothing. No matter how difficult the situation was, he remained calm and composed.

He knows Silambam and Boxing, and he was also a weightlifter who secured 3rd place in Tirunelveli. Interestingly, I learned many of these achievements only through my relatives because he never spoke about them himself.

Our family's ice factory became a landmark in  Thoothukudi. If you bought a juice with ice in the new bus stand both Thoothukudi and Tirunelveli., there was a good chance the ice came from our factory. Even today, if someone asks for the ice factory, many people still know exactly where our house is.

One thing that always amazed me was the number of friends he had.

One of my uncles once told me, "If I came to Thoothukudi without visiting your grandmother's house, someone would inform your father before I even left town. Then your father would lovingly ask me why I didn't come home."

That's the kind of relationships he built throughout his life.

I experienced his goodwill personally too. Whenever we went to watch movies in Thoothukudi, theatre (6 -7 famous theatre in Thoothukudi)staff knew him. Even if there was a huge queue outside, another gate would sometimes be opened for us. Everyone greeted him warmly, asked about his well-being, and always movie tickets and snacks were free. Because of him, I watched several movies multiple times. I still remember watching Arunachalam nearly ten times in the theatre.

What makes me proud isn't his business, his achievements, or how many people know him.

It's the life he chose to live.

A life built on discipline.

A life built on kindness.

A life built on respect.

He taught these values not through speeches, but simply by living them every single day.

Today, while writing this, I tried calling him to wish him. I couldn't reach him because he had gone to a temple  in Kanyakumari. Somehow, that also feels very much like him.

I am truly proud to say that I am your son.

Happy  Birthday, Appa. ❤️🎂

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My birthday memories with my mother

 Today is my birthday. But it is not just my birthday—it is also my parents' wedding anniversary.

For my mother, this day was always very special. Since we never knew her exact birth date, we couldn't celebrate her birthday. So June 3 became an even more important day in our family because it was both her wedding day and my birthday.

One thing I always looked forward to was Paasi Paruppu Payasam. She would make it every year. In those days, I was almost a vegetarian. As a child, I didn't like chicken, I hated mutton, and other non-vegetarian foods. Vegetarian food was what I enjoyed the most.

Sometimes she would also make my favorite butter beans dish. There was a particular variety that we used to get in Tuticorin that tasted very different from the ones available in Chennai. I don't think I have tasted that variety since her passing. It has been well over a decade, and I don't even know where to find it anymore.

Usually, after school, my mother and I would visit a nearby temple together and then return home. She often told me that I was born three years after her marriage and that she had visited many temples praying for a child before I was born.

One thing I clearly remember is asking her what dress I should wear. Every single time, she refused to choose for me. Whether it was clothes, hairstyle, food, or anything else, she would always say, "You should choose for yourself. It is your life and your choice."

Then she would jokingly add, "But for your marriage, I will choose the girl."

There was only one exception. I still remember it clearly. I was probably in seventh or eighth standard. She had bought me a pure white kurta kind of dress kind of North Indian style,made from a very light fabric. I have always preferred thick fabrics, even from childhood, and I didn't want to wear it at all.

But that year, she was unusually determined. She kept asking me again and again to wear it for my birthday. Finally, I agreed, but only for an hour or two. After that birthday, I never wore that dress again.

Today, those memories feel like they happened yesterday. Yet when I think about it, years have passed.

I wanted to share these memories because today was one of the happiest days in my mother's life. June 3 was her wedding day, and later it became my birthday too.

Whenever this day comes,I think about her, our temple visits, the payasam she made, the choices she encouraged me to make for myself, and all the small moments that made this day special.

Memories of My Mother

 Today is my mother’s memorial day, and I remember my earliest memory of her from when I was about 2½ years old.

I suddenly woke up and found myself in the care of my elder cousin sister. I realized there was nobody at home, and my mother was not there. I searched for her, and later, I think I cried myself to sleep.

A few hours later, or maybe even the next day, my sister told me, “Your mom has come back.” My mother came home with my younger brother. That became my earliest memory of her. I ran toward her, hugged her legs, and asked, “Why did you leave me?”

There is a lot that comes to my mind when I think about my mother. So many memories. I don’t know if I can express all of them exactly in words. It has been 16 years since she passed away.

Only a few people know today that my mother is no longer alive. Mostly, only my close circle knows. But people who knew both me and my mother well always say, “You are just like your mother.”

Even now, her elder sister, many of my relatives, people in my street, her friends, and so many others still miss her because she was a very good listener and a very positive person. She always used to say, “If you cannot be helpful to others, at least don’t be a disturbance.”

She truly lived by those words.

I also remember one incident from my childhood. My mother gave me a one-rupee coin, and at that age, the coin almost covered my entire palm because I was such a small boy.

She asked me to give it to a homeless person. I remember asking her, “Why should we give money to them?”

She told me, “Always help people who have nothing, as much as possible. Even if it is just a small amount like one rupee, you should still help if you can.”

I still remember those words. Even though it was such a small moment, it taught me something very important about kindness and compassion.

I still remember that when I was a child, she once explained to me how she prayed. She said, “Whatever difficulties or suffering are meant to happen to my family, let them happen to me instead. Nothing should happen to my family.”

That was the way she used to pray. She was willing to bear everything herself if it meant protecting the people she loved.

Sometimes, when I think about it now, it feels painful because, in a way, her prayer became real. That is how life feels to me today.

I think during my childhood, maybe around 5th or 6th standard, I used to love watching channels like National Geographic and Discovery Channel. I was especially interested in hunting-related programs, like a cheetah hunting a deer or a snake hunting a rat.

Whenever I watched those kinds of shows, my mother would come into the room where the TV was on and ask me, “Why are you watching these disgusting things?” That is what she used to say.

She also used to wonder, “Why did God create so many living beings only for one to eat another?”

I still remember replying to her, “I don’t know whether God created it or not, but this is evolution. If the deer does not run fast enough, the cheetah will catch it. In that way, both of them keep becoming faster.”

At the same time, she was also a very straightforward person. If she didn’t like something, she would say it directly to your face. And usually, she would be right. You couldn’t easily say she was wrong because she had that much clarity and accuracy when she felt something was not right.

She also used to say, “Even if someone is your enemy, if they are not disturbing you, don’t disturb them. But even if someone is your friend, if they disturb or hurt you, stand your ground and fight back.”

That was the kind of person she was — kind and positive, but also strong, honest, and fearless.

My father is very talented, and I often post about him on his birthdays. But my mother was someone truly special. In many ways, I feel she was ten times more intelligent than my father.

She had the ability to forgive people, even those who hurt her directly. Still, she continued to help them and do what she believed was right. At the same time, even though she forgave them, she would never give them the same place in her life again. That is one of the reasons I respect my mother so deeply. I admire both her kindness and her courage.

When I was studying in 5th standard, around 10 years old, I used to fail many tests. In my matriculation school, we had seven subjects, and I would fail in six of them. The only subject I used to pass was Mathematics.

Not only would I pass, but I would score 100 out of 100. At that time, nobody else used to get full marks like that, and my Mathematics paper was even used as a model paper. In my school, a model paper meant that teachers would use that paper as the standard to correct the other answer sheets because it was considered nearly perfect.

Because of this strange combination, I became one of the most notorious boys in the school. Even my friends used to tell me, “The subjects that are easy for us are difficult for you, and the one subject that is difficult for us is very easy for you.”

My teachers told my mother, “He is a very talented boy, but he is also very adamant. He can study all the subjects, but he only studies the subjects he likes.”

But the truth was that, at that time, I genuinely did not understand the other subjects. Mathematics was the only subject that made sense to me.

One day, my mother told me, “In school and academics, teachers are speaking badly about you. Everybody should say good things about you, right? That is what I expect, and that is what makes me proud.”

I still remember those words.

I think around 8th standard, I slowly became more balanced in my studies. I started scoring around 60 or 70 marks out of 100 in all subjects and became more balanced academically, but in Mathematics, I still scored above 90.

At that time, around 9th or 10th standard — and even before that, maybe from 5th standard itself — I did not like going to school. I used to skip classes often. Not only was I unprepared for my subjects, but I also bunked school many times.

My family would leave me at school, but somehow I would escape without the watchman noticing me. I would walk a couple of kilometers back home or spend time hiding and playing video games at a computer center. Sometimes, I would hide somewhere for the whole day, and nobody could find me until much later.

One day, after they found out again, they were forcing me to go to school. At that moment, I was thinking to myself, “Even if I become a school dropout, I can just take over my father’s ice factory.”

The very next second, my mother looked at me and said, “Don’t think you can simply take over the ice factory. You are not even 10% as talented as your father. You cannot run that business even for one day. Your father is a very talented person.”

At that time, I was around 15 or 16 years old. I still remember that incident clearly — not just the words, but even the exact place where it happened.

I also saw many moments between my parents. Like every husband and wife, they had small arguments sometimes, but I always felt that my mother was deeply and truly in love with my father. Honestly, I have never seen that kind of genuine love in any other couple — not among relatives, friends, or anyone else, even until today.

One thing I clearly remember is that she never stayed even one full day at her parents’ house, which was also her elder sister’s house. For example, sometimes she would prepare breakfast or lunch at home, and then we would all go to her sister’s house. But around lunchtime, she would suddenly become worried and say, “I don’t know whether your father has eaten properly or not.”

I would jokingly tell her, “You already cooked the food, right? He will take care of himself and eat. We are here — take care of us first!”

These memories still feel so fresh to me, as if they happened yesterday, even though so many years have passed.

There is still so much more I could share about her, and that itself shows the kind of person she was. But I think this is enough for today.

Thank you for listening to me talk about my mother.

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