Growing up with Dad

Dad,

I never thought that, one day, I would write this.
As a kid, growing up, you don't think of your Dad as someone you will write about some day. At that time, Dad is someone you go to for everything; someone whose office you want to go and see, someone to play football with, who kisses you good night, every night. Most of all, he's someone you go to when Mom scolds you.

At least that's what my father was to me. I still remember, every time he went out of town, Dad would bring back chocolates and comic books. He was my perfect Dad-as every father is for every child.

As children mature, they begin to observe their parents much more. At first, it was cool if Dad just let us do all the things important to us then: being allowed to stay up late watching TV, having a coke with our meals, getting a pet, owning a rugged terrain bike... But as time passed, I began to see the way my father functioned, took care of his family, handled his work. He was completely transparent in his attitude towards what he had chosen to do in his life, and in his interaction with his friends and relatives.

It was at that time that we began to learn from Dad-not merely things that he taught us consciously, but also those that we learnt merely as spectators, by just being there and observing his dealings in various areas of life. That was the we began to imbibe and emulate his forgiving nature, how to stand up to challenges-and to accept defeat and handle success in the same way that he did-by taking them in our stride.

We were fortunate that we were offered this opportunity from a young age, simply because Dad included us in his social life, and because he took out time to spend with us. There was a phase in our lives when we felt tied down by the extent of his affection and the time he spent with us. That was the time when we would have preferred to hang out with friends and party. But whenever we did go out, Dad would insist that we come back home for dinner-no matter how late! Mom would come to our aid, saying we had our own lives to lead, but Dad would be obstinate enough to use-what we then considered-emotional blackmail.

Amazingly, we actually started to opt for staying at home as we began to enjoy our dinner conversations and debates. Subsequently, our friends too began to opt for coming to our home to enjoy the stimulus of our tete-a-tetes. What was wonderful was that it wasn't something we were forced to do, but chose to do. We spent some of the most memorable evenings of our lives by simply being at home. The transition from being Dad's children to Dad's friends was so natural, we never felt it happen.

In hindsight, it is so obvious when and how it happened. It happened the day when we accepted his values and chose them for ourselves. It happened the next day when we saw him come to the support of a person who had always opposed his stance, and learned about forgiving our fellow beings. It happened, again, the day after that when we actually listened to his speech in a public meeting and rehearsed that he repeated himself not because of his lack of convictions, but because of his own belief in those deep-seated convictions.

And it happened once more when he reaffirmed that everything he had was because of God's grace, and that God is not someone you find only in a place of worship, but behind every move, every step that you take. And it has been happening ever since, even after Dad is no longer with us-just listening to people he worked with, helped, or had any relationship with is inspiring.

All fathers are great. So was ours. He taught us to respect life and the opportunities it offered us; he taught us to value fellow human beings; he showed us how to assemble a barbecue, to swim, to play pithoo; and he taught us about humanity. He showed us that no amount of work or help is ever sufficient, but that the satisfaction gained from it can prove enormous. He also taught us that it is the intention behind an action that defines the result. More important, he taught us to love-not just those people you are related to, or friends, but every one.

With our father, we learnt that at some level, all human beings are one, and that we are not really different from each other. With this learning came the intent to help others which, I now realise, was Dad's aim. We learnt that in our own way, we too could help people-if in no other way than in just hearing them out and lending them some moral support. I think my father's main aim was to help people and make them see how they could then help other people. And he taught this by example. For us, it was the most effective form of education.

We can only hope that all those people whose lives he touched, can reach out to others in the same way. That, in real terms, would be Dad's most treasured dream realised.

Now that he is no more, every evening that we stayed home to have dinner with him feels even more precious. We were used to seeing Dad's pictures every day in magazines and newspapers, official photographs, pictures that people had taken of him-but never imagined that one day we would be hunting for them to compile this book. A book that is a capsule of his life, his public service, and is dedicated to his enduring memory. For us it has been a labour of love. We hope you too will enjoy these photographs.

Sarika

Life with Dad

I could say thousands of things about my father, but writing them down like this seems the most difficult task in the world. For, in his passing, I feel a part of me has died too. In him, I have also lost my best friend. He was a successful politician, an inspiring leader, a pillar of strength and a generous soul-all locked into one. But for us, he was simply the best father anyone could have. No matter what his preoccupations, he was always there for us.

My father was one of twelve children-nine brothers and three sisters-that my grandparents had. Born in a village on the outskirts of Delhi, he lost his father at the age of eleven. From then on, tragedy was a constant companion for the family. Shortly after, my father lost all but one of his brothers. Therefore, at a very young age he was forced to shoulder the responsibility as the man of the house, even arranging for the marriages of his sisters.

Eventually, he left the village to come to Delhi to help his cousin with a small dairy in the vicinity of Birla Mandir. This was to prove the most difficult phase of his life. He worked ever hard to cope with the substantially higher standards of education in Delhi's schools while, simultaneously, working at the dairy and delivering milk twice a day to nearby areas.

His big break came when he applied for the armed forces and was selected. He qualified for both the army and the air force. My grandfather, himself a havaldar in the Indian army, would have liked my father to continue the tradition of joining the army but the substantially higher remuneration for pilots made my father make up his mind to opt for the Indian Air Force instead.

After his commission in the 96th course of the Indian Air Force, in 1966, my father became Pilot Officer Rajeshwar Prasad-a proud moment, indeed, not only for the family but the entire village.

He spent 14 happy years in the air force and saw action in the 1971 Indo-Pak war, something that I am really proud of. He was posted to various stations in the country, including Hyderabad, Delhi, Saharanpur, Guwahati and Kalaikunda. These were perhaps the most fun-filled years of his life. The friends he made in that duration remained his closest associates, lasting through his six terms as a member of parliament and ten years as a Central minister.

After quitting his job with the air force, he directed his energies towards politics. When he quit the air force, he had a wife, two children aged five and three, no pension, and certainly no political godfather. At that time most people thought him merely ambitious, and foresaw only uncertainty and frustration, but he braved their cynicism and 'sound advice' to make his foray into the world of politics.

People judge political success in terms of the power a person wields, but for my father, in the twenty years, five months and eight days of his political life, it is best measured in his ability to touch the hearts of millions of people and earn their good wishes. In that lay the key to his success.

He was dedicated to his job but I did not grow up with the feeling that he did not have time for his wife and children. We have been a very, very close-knit family and entire time together-be it travelling to Rajasthan by car or going underwater snorkelling in the Andaman Islands. For him, his family always came first.

We always had an open relationship with our father, being his worst critics as well as, hopefully, his most trusted advisers. But it was a two-sided relationship where he knew exactly what was going on in our lives. No wonder he was always there to share our joys and guide us through our rough patches. Our relationship was based on talking, confiding and sharing everything with each other.

He spent a lot of his time outside Delhi because he believed in reaching out to the people and making himself available to the masses. He would travel the length and breadth of the country, but would try and make it back home for dinner so that the family could have at least one meal a day together. On our part, we would often delay eating dinner even till past midnight just so that we could share the meal with him.

In his sixth year as Member of Parliament, he became Minister for Surface Transport. He went on to head the ministries of communications, internal and environment. He was an able and effective administrator. During his tenures as minister, he brought with him new ideas and new initiatives that would revolutionise the future of the country forever. He was instrumental in taking far-reaching decisions, allowing the entry of cell phones, Internet and wireless communication into the country. But his real interest lay elsewhere-amidst the poorer, underprivileged members of society whose lot he worked to improve. All through his political career, he championed the cause of farmers and labourers. Coming from a family that had lived through similar misery, he was able to empathise with their agony, and the poor from the remotest parts of the country, in turn, were able to associate themselves with him.

Having seen the love and affection that people had for him, it makes me proud to be part of his family. He gained his confidence not from political patronage but from the trust that people had in him. His inspiration came not from seats of power but from the drive to do something for his country. He had his reward not in the form of praise or admiration but from the heartfelt good wishes that people sent him. His satisfaction came not from electoral triumphs but from the blessings he received from the people.

He was a true nationalist and a staunch secularist. He was true to himself and to his principles and upheld them even while wading through the murky waters of politics. He had his convictions and fought hard to stick to them, no matter what form the opposition to them-and him-took.

He was also our source of joy and never failed to spread happiness, regardless of the company he was in. I admired his capacity to bridge social gaps with tremendous ease-he was as comfortable having lassi in the interiors of Rajasthan as he was at a sit-down dinner in the company of diplomats and industrialists in Geneva. He was able to strike a chord with his listeners-be it the fishermen of coastal Andhra Pradesh or a fresh batch of IAS officers. He spoke from his heart and was able to instantly connect with people. We have a lot to live up to, and I am sure we will be able to make him proud of us, just as we are proud of him. We feel him around us, watching over us with a smile, up there, somewhere ....

Sachin