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Little deeds of love

Someone asked me today if I missed home. I laughed and said, “Its been a decade since I left home. I am used to it”. I don’t know why I always lie when someone asks me that question. Or even to myself, for that matter.

My father would fill ink in my crooked Hero pen every morning before I went to school. First it was because I used to get ink all over my hands. And after that it was because he didn’t realise I had grown up.

Sometimes I would wake up at 4 in the morning to study. My mother always woke up with me just to make me a cup of coffee.

My father would pick me up at school every evening. He would be there at 3:55pm and I would almost always be the first one out of the school gates at 4:01 pm. It was like a silent pact.

Whenever I was bad, I was afraid my mother would cry. And that was so much more effective that any fear that she would be angry. So I tried to be good.

Whenever my father dropped me off at school before an exam, he would tell me I would definitely be the first in the class. And he never ever flinched. Or looked like he didn’t believe in it. Even when I told him I hadn’t finished reading half the syllabus. That faith made up for more than half the unread portions.

I was once in a bus in Mizoram’s mountains and the driver left the bus for a minute without pulling the brakes properly. The bus started rolling down towards the suicidal hairpin curves. We narrowly escaped. My parents called me up early next morning, because my mother couldn’t sleep the whole night. She was worried about me and felt something was wrong. I will never know why she felt that way that night.

Whenever there was an important cricket match, after my mother had left for work, my father and I would skip work and school and stay home to watch the match. And we would have omelettes for lunch because that is all he knew how to cook.

On most days, long after the alarm has gone off and after many angry faraway shouts from my father, I would still be sleeping. My mother would make her way up the stairs to my room. She would kiss me on the forehead and I would wake up with a smile. Even now, when I wake up in the morning, I often think of my mother.

I know my parents don’t know what a blog is. And they will never read this. So I can safely say what I have always wanted to tell them, but never could – I miss you. Terribly. Every single day. And it doesn’t get any better just because I am all grown up. Nor do I get used to it just because its been a long time.

Posted in Personal on August 18, 2005


24 Responses

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  1. One More Reason says

    A beautiful post.

    I still remember my first HERO pen. I think it was the 5th grade , when I graduated from pencil to an ink pen. It was the most precious thing. I guarded it with all my life :)

    “but never could – I miss you. Terribly. Every single day. And it doesn’t get any better just because I am all grown up. Nor do I get used to it just because its been a long time” beautiful !

  2. Vishnu says

    Ah, the Hero pen. Too bad I can’t find many fountain pens in the United States :-(

  3. gypsy says

    I really liked that post, lovely writing!

  4. Surya says

    When I woke up today morning , I told myself that if no one has seen that post yet, I will quickly delete it – maybe it was a wee bit too close to the heart..Thanks for the comments =) You guys saved the post.

    Vishnu, Happy Birthday and a great year ahead =)

  5. Vijay says

    Very moving post. Almost brought tears to my eyes.

    Glad to see more regular writing from you. Missed the good reads.

  6. Abi says

    Hi Surya, thank you for this beautiful post. Great writing!

  7. Anjali says

    Lovely post! You should send your parents the link or better still, write this down on paper (using a pen!) and post it to them using snail mail. I am sure they will love receiving this from you.

  8. Surya says

    Vijay, Abi, Anjali: thanks for the kind words!

    Glad to see more regular writing from you.

    Offline life has just been a bit hectic around this time. I should be back to my normal self in another week or so. Thanks for continuing to visit.

    You should send your parents..

    Hee..it was written on the premise that they wont see it. I am sure they would love it (and be really surprised)..but I will probably chicken out on the way to the postoffice..=)

  9. sunil says

    beautiful post….now i’m feeling horribly homesick.

  10. Surya says

    Thanks, Sunil! …=)

  11. sarabjit singh says

    Don’t ask me how i ended up on this post…I was searching something for blogging and i ended up on srijith.net and from i came to ur site and here i am. Well i just wanted to share my feelings abt home in india. I left india when i was 9, 7 years ago. I went there this summer for 1 month and I came back. And now i miss every freaking part of india. Even the hotness…can’t wait to finish high school/next summeer so i can spend some more time with my family in india :-/

    thank you for listening

  12. Bala says

    Very nostalgic. And well written. You got this far, you will definitely make it to the post office.

  13. Anupama says

    Been a while since I checked your blog. Came by today to see this wonderful post which brought back a ton of memories and some tears!

  14. Renu says

    Too good Surya.

  15. Neetha says

    That was incredible.You brought out the true underlying feelings!!!!

  16. madan says

    touched!

  17. Pramod says

    Just got back from Home (Palakkad) – kind of lived what you are writing. As your other post on India goes – this is another thing that perhaps sets us apart – we aren’t ashamed to be and to say we are close to our families.

    Great post. Hope you had a nice summer :-)

  18. SANAL says

    WHAT a WRITING STYLE.!!!INCREDIBLE…This is the first time i got patience to read a Paragraph of something…

  19. tanya says

    hey.. though not a frequent visitor of blogs.. but have to appreciate your belief of realizing the sensibility within you… hmm you no wat .. though me kinda young .. n not away from parents still believe its important to tell your loved ones that ya need the love supply to live the life ya do… ne way cheeers n god bless

  20. Sathish Kumar says

    Hi,
    Tears came in my eyes …nothing more..
    Iam really feeling homesickness and after reading this article..i couldnt control my tears…
    Excellant writinggggggggggggggggg
    Cheers,
    Sathish Kumar.

  21. kiran says

    hi,
    usually i dont comment in a blog, but…
    but after reading this post i went back to my school and college days.

    Great blog, very nostalgic i have to say. And i am also a keralite.

    kiranvj

  22. Riya Raju says

    Hi Sreejithetta…read ur wifes article..the blog..it was lovely….

  23. Shilpa Naidu says

    Treasure trove of beautiful writing that i stumbled upon..Loved this one especially..

Continuing the Discussion

  1. Remembering a journey | Silent Eloquence linked to this post on September 4, 2009

    […] from home, and the rest of my family. About ten years after I moved out of my parents’ house, I admitted: “My father would fill ink in my crooked Hero pen every morning before I went to school. […]



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