I was happy. I looked towards our dog TinTin and asked "Hey TinTin, today's father's day. What did you get for daddy?!"
Then TinTin ran somewhere as if she understood what I was saying, and came back with a toy in her mouth and gave it to me.
Do the dogs know about father's day?
Another Father's Day Entry
I thought I'd share this rather insignificant incident on father's day and it shaped my character.
These days photography is simple thanks to the digital cameras, but I learnt photography the old fashioned way, in my father's darkroom. You probably know that black-and-white photo printing can be performed under feeble red light. But perhaps what you don't know is the film processing must be done with zero light. Once you shut the door, you can't even see your fingers.
OK, you know my dad had a business of photography and in my enthusiasm to learn, I wanted to develop (aka washing) the film. I must have been fifteen years old. One day after I opened the film from the cassette and before loading into the developer tank, I misplaced the spool and could not find it with feel. In my panic I tripped the tank and broke it into pieces. Dad had only one tank. He had gotten it from Germany, and it was important part of his livelihood and now I had broken it.
As had been the family tradition, Bappa repaired it with Fevicol, superglue, rubber cement and every other kind of adhesive available in India then (Year 1980), but the acidic and alkaline chemicals dissolved it it no time, so we were never successful and Bappa eventually bought a inferior quality, product made in India. It slowed down his productivity tremendously.
Anyway, after waiting for many days to be reprimanded I asked my father why he had not said anything. "You can punish me, or at least be upset that I broke the tank. Why did you forgive me so easily?" I asked him.
"Vikas, I know you are a responsible boy, and you are hurting inside because the developer tank is broken and you are seeking closure. But you didn't do it deliberately, and accidents absolutely happen in the dark room where you can't see a darn thing. It could have happened when I was processing, so who broke the tank is irrelevant, and no good thing is going to come out by reprimanding, that has not already come out".
In such a simple and straight forward way Bappa had taught me to trust in confidants, that not all battles are worth fighting, and more importantly, the complex idea of mitigating circumstances.
Perhaps he didn't mean the lesson to be so profound, but the lesson I learnt that day went far and deep into my life.
