Feet Up
Many, many years ago the father and I were talking about our travels. My interest in the Indian Railways was then in full bloom and I would often quiz him about the technicalities of traction, signalling systems and how a train could switch tracks without the need for a steering wheel. He would patiently explain, taking pains to make sure the physics was not beyond my understanding.
Looking back, what stood out was not the depth of knowledge he shared, but the pace at which he did. Very often, the most knowledgeable of teachers assume that the student would keep up and if he didn’t then he wasn’t much of a student at all. Father wasn’t that kind of teacher at all.
His pace was much like of the trains. Slow, lumbering and if you looked hard enough, a certain kind of useful grace. Like the trains, with their unscheduled stops and interminable waits that allow one to sacrifice temporal concepts for spacial ones, his teaching allowed one to segue, divert and then dart back in. From rolling friction to the laws of thermodynamics to the economics of gauge to the sanitary benefits of carrying Marie biscuits.
So, in the long line of thank you’s, here’s another one. Thank you father. For teaching me how to put my feet up, think slowly, listen better and watch with care.
