Being Before Time

Mr Garibaldi, Nana as I call him, is my dad. Not because of the ideology or something, he got the famous name from “kari-balti” a Tamil slang for being the darkest-skinned one among his brothers who named him so (forgive the racist description). But now Nana is neither Kari (coal) coloured nor bald, growing old has reversed his demeanour into a dashing old man. He proudly says that a good heart is what actually reflects on one’s face or skin colour for that matter. The man (PS. I love him) is a pain in my ass. A “too” can be added to every good value we are taught while describing Nana. He is too honest, too fair, too punctual, too modest, too ethical, too etc.
I am not even exaggerating. In normal homes, when the family is invited to a party or a wedding, the discussions usually would be–what do we wear, do we have enough matching jewellery, should we shop for anything new, perhaps we could buy the gifts while shopping and so on. But welcome to my world where we don’t put our heads together on all these trivial things. Instead, we plan studiously, looking at the invitation for the date and time mentioned for the cake-cutting, muhurtham, or reception. Recently when my friend invited me to attend her wedding with my parents, we started with our plan with–
“What day does it fall on”
“Oh no, it is a Sunday, there will be too much traffic jam”
“The venue is also far, let’s not drive, let’s call the driver”
“If the reception starts at 6:30 pm, let’s start from home by 5 pm”
— “What are we going to do, reaching there so soon? It only shows a 40-minute drive on Google map”
“Chennai’s traffic is too unpredictable, we can’t be late, just in time for food!”
“Mind you, let’s be the first in line to give the gift and take a picture with the bride and groom”
And after all this arguing, we reached the reception hall as the first guests, while the wedding planners were still arranging the chairs. My friend’s closest relatives like aunts or uncles also weren’t as sincere or punctual as my family was. I knew all this would happen and gave Nana a disapproving nod, while filling the first chairs, close to the stage so we could get there quickly, once the couple arrived. But Nana was silent throughout the event. After we reached home at 8:50 pm, he smirked saying “See, we are home before 9, so we can get to bed without any delay”
I still don’t understand his fussy urge to do things on time, to get things done first, to escape crowds, to be over-protective or to be Mr Perfect. Yet I have come to believe that perhaps discipline in little things truly contributes positively to one’s appearance. Nana has not become fair-skinned but he sure glows, outshining all his brothers. Though I do not aspire to be punctual, at least not to parties and functions (as we know the fun in parties begins only when you’re late), at 60, I hope to age gracefully like Nana!

He speaks so little but everything he says hits the bull’s eye. I wonder how his subordinates at work manage to get things done for him, he wouldn’t retire also. But on the endless run of life, I have reached the conclusion that it is satiating to be perfect and it is good parenting I have received. Good heart does really reflect on the face.