A Letter To My Son (On Father’s Day 2021)

I wrote this blog post three years ago, and it's still my personal favorite among all my writings - I wanted to have it on LinkedIn, and hence :)

Dear Siddharth,

I am writing this letter on June 20th, 2021, which is celebrated as Father’s Day. When you read this, you may wonder why I wrote it when you were just a year old. I didn’t want to take any chances. I am not sure how long I will be able to remember these memories and how well, so I am writing them for you to read in the future. I want to tell you a little about your dear grandfather and my dear father, H S Shankar.

When I was a little kid, Sunday was the only day I could spend quality time with my father, as it was his only day off from work. During the rest of the week, he would leave home as early as 7:30 in the morning and come home as late as 9:00 at night. My earliest fond memories with him were our Sunday morning walks to the Madiwala Lake and places near our home. While it was enchanting to see the beautiful birds near the lake, it was equally amazing to have conversations with him and listen to stories from the Mahabharata, Panchatantra, Akbar-Birbal, and other folk tales. I vividly remember how curious I was as a kid. I used to ask all possible questions that came to my mind without hesitation, and you will understand why by reading further. Being a teacher himself, my father had the patience to answer my questions sincerely and thoroughly. These interactions in my formative years likely prepared me to never feel embarrassed about asking questions, no matter how silly or stupid they may seem.

Even though he was a teacher, I also had my struggles in school. I remember a period when I was in the 3rd standard. I had performed poorly in my academics, scoring low marks in all subjects and barely passing the mathematics test. After seeing my poor performance, the assistant headmistress called my parents to meet her immediately, along with my subject teachers. I felt disappointed and ashamed of my performance and even sadder that my parents had to meet my teachers. The teacher told my parents that I hadn’t solved a single problem fully on the test. I was only awarded marks for writing some steps in my attempts at solving the problems. She also mentioned that she had given me some grace marks to avoid completely demotivating me, as I would have failed the test otherwise. She warned my parents that if I continued down the same path, I would surely fail. I remember feeling pathetic after that meeting. However, when I returned home later that day, my parents didn’t humiliate me or make me feel worse. Instead, my father decided to teach me mathematics. He dedicated one evening a week to sit down with me and teach me. He taught me in an imaginative way that most of my teachers at school didn’t. I still remember how much I enjoyed solving problems after he taught me the concepts. I can’t forget the way he taught me the Pythagorean theorem; it has stayed with me to this day. He continued to teach me math until I reached high school. Over time, mathematics became my favorite subject, and I scored 100/100 in both my 10th and 12th board exams. This is how my father helped transform my deepest fear into my greatest strength.

Even though it sounds like your grandfather was a pure academician, that wasn’t the case. While academics were important, he wanted me to grow holistically. Even when I did poorly in my studies, he and my mother still encouraged me to take up extracurricular activities. I was inclined to drawing and painting early on because the art teachers at my school were good. I remember being very keen to participate in painting competitions. My parents knew how much I cared about winning competitions, especially art competitions. My father took me to these competitions held in various places around the city. Though he never owned a vehicle throughout his life, it didn’t deter him from taking me to these various painting competitions. I remember losing many competitions before I started to win. He encouraged me during both my losses and wins. It’s funny that he never painted himself but knew my desire to paint. I fondly remember him taking me to different beautiful places in Bangalore to paint for competitions without specific topics. During my school days, I must have won more than fifty painting competitions.

The toughest of all the competitions was the “Hindu Young World Painting Competition” conducted by the popular newspaper “The Hindu” as part of their Young World supplement. I remember aspiring to win the contest as early as the 4th standard. It was a state-level competition, where the organizers reached out to all the schools in the state. The head of the school had to nominate the top five students in both junior and senior categories. Fortunately, I was always selected to represent the school because I won the art competitions there until I finished my schooling. Winning at school competitions versus winning a state-level competition was very different and challenging. It was a distant dream for me, but I wanted to win. I lost several times before finally winning a consolation prize for the first time in the 7th standard. I remember not being happy with the consolation prize because only the top three prize winners would receive the award at a national-level prize distribution ceremony. My father could feel my aspiration as much as I did because he and I were like a team when it came to these painting competitions. Together, we did a lot of research before any competition, especially the one conducted by The Hindu, which was more like the World Cup for us. Despite the immense effort we put into preparations, I didn’t make it to the top three in the 8th standard competition. The consolation prize was not enough to console me. I decided to participate again for the final time.

The year was 1997, and I had reached the 9th standard. I knew this was my last chance to win the Hindu Young World competition because it was understood that the 10th standard was meant to focus on board exams. I practiced for the competition throughout the year, and my father bought me high-quality art materials by squeezing the domestic budget. I still remember the 1997 Hindu Young World painting competition like it was yesterday. It was held at Bishop Cotton Boys’ School in Bangalore, where the most affluent people of Bangalore sent their kids. Being a student from a semi-government school didn’t deter me because I had my father beside me – to me, he was the strength, and everything else wasn’t important. After five years of repeatedly losing, I finally won the competition. 1997 was a memorable year for me. My painting was featured in the national edition of The Hindu Young World, and the prize was awarded to me by Padma Bhushan Sai Paranjpye at a national-level gathering in Hyderabad. The organizers covered the complete trip for me and my father. There was also significant prize money at that time. This win remains the greatest experience of my childhood and perhaps my entire life. I continued my streak by winning the competition again in 1998; this time, the award ceremony was held in the temple city of Madurai. Through this journey of finally winning the competition, my father helped me realize that anything is achievable if you are determined, even if it takes time and effort.

Siddharth, it’s not that winning the competition or scoring 100/100 gives me any deeper sense of accomplishment today. What gives me immense joy is being able to write this letter to you about the wonderful relationship I have had with my father, which was nothing less than a true friendship. It made me feel strong and prepared me to dream of things that seemed impossible to achieve. I know your grandfather set high standards for parenting. When you read this letter, be assured that I have inherited many parenting values from him. I will do my best to ensure that you never feel alone when you stumble upon something that truly means everything to you, even if it means nothing to the world – I’ll be there for you.

With love,

Your Appa