Additional musings about Dad, in his 86th birth year and 8 anniversary of his death
By: Samir Gupte
Tags: Philosphy, Life Lessons, Indian Culture, Dad

He made sure we always had what we needed, but not always what we wanted. In fact he instilled that early on. If I wanted an “upgrade.,” we had to kick that money in ourselves. That is why I started working at age 11 or 12. First babysitting for neighbors, then refereeing soccer games (U6 and U8). Next I had a newspaper route. And then when I could work for a paycheck in New York State (age 15 at the time), I worked in retail (Howland’s), and became a lifeguard and water safety instructor, all the way through college.

He also was not necessarily “open” to new things, but definitely not closed to them. That is a slight but important nuance. The Indian culture is not open to new things. It has been woven together for more than 4,000 years. As a foundational stone, the idea of dharma lies in the center. This concept is becoming well-known in the West now. Essentially it means that you are born into a certain path and that is what you must follow in order to be judged in the afterlife for promotion or demotion during reincarnation.

It is both literal in the sense of educational and professional paths open to you based upon your birth and also figuratively. India’s culture and subcultures is very rigid and oriented toward following parental an societal prescriptions.

A slight deviation from my dad commentary is a brief example of what happens to the caged bird, when he or she can fly. The success of Indian entrepreneurs in the United States, Canada. and the UK to a lesser extent, is becoming legendary, be it in the tech sector, hotels, or convenient stores. Once freed from the constraints of the dogmatic and rigid dharma of their homeland, the Indian entrepreneurial spirit is unleashed, innovation is ignited, and voila a thriving class of small businessmen and women, and now venture capitalists.

Dad, from an early age, did share those dictums with me, but in an advisory not prescriptive way. I was not prohibited from choose a career path different than being a doctor, engineer, or computer dude. I was also allowed to venture out of the house for the critical rites of high school socializing, the drinking parties.

In fact a poignant memory was one evening when we were having dinner together, a ritual that became increasingly challenging due to our teenage activities., the parents asked what goes on at these parties. My evasive answers were insufficient as they kept asking more detailed questions. They knew what the answer was, but were seeking to extract it from my brother and I. Socrates would have been proud.

My ultimate retort was to suggest that they host a party to find out. Much to my amazement, they agreed. In fact they even bought the keg of beer, Schaefer (“The beer to have if you’re having more than one”), I believe. This was probably my junior year in high school so we were 17ish. The drinking age in New York at the time was 18. While there were some seniors at the party, most were underage. They were responsible enough to collect keys upon entry.

The party unfolded with the usual cast of characters. Mom went to sleep at her usual time, 9pm, while the merriment was in full form. It wasn’t too out of control. The peak of wonderment for me was walking into the back of our house and seeing Dad in his ubiquitous recliner, with a beer in hand, watching a baseball (Mets I think) game. Surrounding his recliner and seated on the floor, were a half-dozen guys, beers in hand, watching the game, all commenting endlessly, as northeastern men do, about their sports team.