From unboxing to curating gifts
“Hello”
“Hmmm, happy birthday!”
That’s how every call would start whenever Dada would wish me birthday. He would always be the first one to call that day. To a perfect stranger, it may sound like a lukewarm way of wishing birthday, but that was his calm, composed, and restrained style of expressing love.
“On your way to work?”
“Yeah…”
“Anything planned?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
“Will probably order in something for dinner.”
“What did you get as birthday gift?”
“Nothing.”
“Why nothing?”
“Didn’t have time.”
“Pick something up for yourself on your way back home.”
“Will see.”
“Hmm… I was wondering about what you would want me to gift you…”
“No need. I don’t need anything.”
“Hmm… you have a great day.”
“Thanks… you too.”
A few weeks later, Dada came over to Delhi with family for a 10-day long year-end vacation. I always looked forward to them visiting us. Their presence in the house, particularly Dada’s, had an inexplicable grounding effect on me. Everything felt easier and manageable. With both of my nephews running and jumping around the house, the high energy levels made the home whole.
On a cold evening at the end of December, standing in the waiting area of the airport, I eagerly looked to receive them. The towering external glass wall of the airport terminal gave a clear view of what was happening inside, as far as the eye could see. The flowing harmony of the large glass panes conjoined with solid steel joints formed a wall that was intermittently disturbed by the thick concrete rim of the exit doorway covered with a reflective, red-coloured facade. The eyes moved left to right to left tirelessly, looking for the familiar faces. The only faces I wanted to see through sea of people flowing out of the arrival terminal.
Amidst the floating heads, the eyes locked-in on the familiar round head with receding hairline, broad forehead, calm eyes, and a composed resting face. My impatience and excitement rushed through from my heart, gushing through my facial expressions. Raised eyebrows, big eyes, a wide smile, and frantic waving of the right hand brought out the excitement of my inner child. My sister-in-law and the kids reciprocated my energy while my brother continued carry the composed look on his face.
As they stepped out of the terminal gate, It was hard to hold back further. I rushed around the barricades right into the exit path and kneeled down to grab my nephews into a bear hug. I gave a warm hug to my sister-in-law, touched her feet and Dada’s feet (as we do in India as a respect to the elders). Then I gave a hug to Dada, he tightened his grip slowly into a bear hug. I could feel the childish energy he was beaming with deep inside. It was moments like these when I realised what he truly felt in his heart.
We loaded the luggage and ourselves into the car and headed home. As we approached the building, I noticed Mummy standing in the balcony, as she typically would on such occasions. After all the hugs and kisses, the process of settling in started. After a while, Dada started to unpack all the suitcases and put clothes into the cupboard.
I, on the other hand, went to my room, seated on my chair next to the work desk to check e-mails on the phone. After a short while, he entered the room, took a quick scan of the room, and approached me. I kept my mobile phone aside to talk to him.
“Happy birthday”, he said with a composed smile, extending his right hand towards me.
He was holding the decent-sized, well-packaged box with photo of a blue headphone and Beats logo on it! I was shocked because I had always wanted one and I knew how expensive that thing was.
With dilated pupils, raised eyebrows and my mouth agape, I got off my chair holding the box. I looked at the box and his face. I repeated this one more time before I could verbalise my feelings, “Are you crazy? These things are damn expensive!” and started to unbox it.
“I was unsure of what to get you for your birthday gift. I spoke to Ankur (my wife) and she suggested this. So, here you go. Enjoy!”
Dada was not the expressive or hugging type. Gifting people with things that were of their desire or need was his way of saying, “I love you. You mean a lot to me.” That’s why I got my first mobile phone and connection as a gift when I got admitted into the MBA programme. Or that Seiko watch, jacket, and other things that formed constituted an endless list of gifts over time. Each one of those were a subtle or a not so subtle message that I was important to him.
Few days back, I was cleaning up my cupboard to pull out my winter wear and put the summer clothes away. In the top shelf, I found a big, soft, oval-shaped black case with a red zip and a big Beats logo embossed on top of it. I unzipped the case to find that blue headphone with a high quality red cable with a 3.5mm jack. The headphone had ceased to work few years back. But I didn’t throw it away. I just could never do that any of his gifts. They were not mere material objects for me.
About two weeks back I had my first birthday without Dada’s presence in my life. I didn’t get that first call in the morning that started with the soothing and familiar sound of “Hmm, happy birthday”. The voice that reassured, that, no matter what was happening, my existence on this planet was worthy of a celebration. It was worthy of a thoughtful, loving gift.
Growing up as a teenager, I used to often wonder what the purpose behind my life was. Why do I exist? With time I came to the realisation that there was no single, unified purpose to life. Rather, it was a bouquet of multiple purposes. And being a younger brother to Dada all these years was one of the primary purposes.
Now that he is free from this material realm, I must find ways and means of dealing with the loss of that purpose. Curating those gifts and memories could be one, perhaps? Would it make life worthy of an annual celebration? That can only be determined in time.
