DAY 115

I do not believe in rituals. But I do participate in some of the rituals because my mother believes in it or my friends enjoy it. I have no hassles doing so.

But personally I am neither religious or ritualistic.

So, that is why it never occurred to me to perform the various rituals on this day which happens to my father's second death anniversary.

I do not feel guilty about it either.

I remember waking up and thinking - `Ah, Dad is in a better place. A place where there is no pain but lot of love and understanding.'

And I said, `Thank you Dad for being in my life. I know you have forgiven me for all the things that I did and didn't do. And I know you loved me. And I also know that you know that I love you. And I do.'

And then I see this status message on my friend's FB page:My dad is my hero - whether you are blessed to still have him with you, or if he is an Angel in Heaven - copy and paste this onto your status and let everyone know how proud you are of your dad. I LOVE YOU DAD !!!

It was ironic. Of course I did not paste it on my status message because it was akin to a ritual. Still a smile warmed my heart when I read it.

And I wanted to post a picture that would go with my sentiments today. Ideally, a photograph of my father would've been apt, but then I only post photos that are taken within 24-48 hours. So, I was in a dilemma as to what photograph should I put up that would capture the essence of my dad.

And boom! This image came into my vision. It was as if dad was pointing it out to me (of course since I am emotionally connected to him I am allowed to think in that fashion -lol)

This image of the kerala towel is ALL my Dad...ha, yes, it is.

The thin white cotton towel, which is unique to Kerala was so much a part of my father. He never used any other towel. Even when he traveled abroad and lived abroad for some years, he still carried with him a set of kerala towels. I guess these towels in some way made him feel connected to his roots and his land, something that he loved so dearly. He was adamant that he wanted to breathe his last in his beloved land and that is what he did too. So these towels were to him - an album of his childhood, of his adolescence, of his first love, of his childhood friends, of his early dreams, hopes and beliefs.

As a young girl I remember dad, wearing a large double kerala towel and getting ready for his ritualistic morning oil bath.

When he came back from work, he would have his bath, wear his veshti and drape the white towel across his shoulders before settling down for a cup of coffee.It was so much a part of him. He was particular that no one should use his towel. And was extremely finicky about its pristine white color. So, I remember mom, prior to the washing machine days, sweating it out, washing the towel and then dipping it in the right amount of blue mixed with the right amount of water and then drying it out in the harsh sun.

At the end of the day you would find sparkly white kerala towels dried and ready for my father.

When I see these towels today I am reminded of my Dad - of his presence in my life. And I am happy that we spent time together on this Earth. Thank you!