I still remember the day.

I still remember the day I first stood on stage a mere three foot something, a child of 5 in the first grade. The day was bright and the morning assembly was an 'as-usual' affair. I was well prepared.

My lines were a quotation that could make sense to a group of students from first through to twelfth grade. ... "then blow it east or blow it west... the wind that blows, that wind is best..."

I walked tentatively to the front of the stage. The mike was too high for me. I tried to reach for it on tip toes but could not. Mr Chhaya, our school principal saw me and smiled. He was later to remark that he had never in his entire career seen a child so young walk up to the mike. He took two giant steps and was by my side lowering the mike. It was a typical old-time mike of the sixties and the seventies- a rounded cylinder with horizontal grooves and fitted on a stand that could be adjusted.

I spoke my lines. No forgotten words. No stumbling.

Suddenly the silent school assembly was thrown into a tumultous applause. Everywhere I looked, I saw smiles and glow. The feeling was heady. Just a few moments ago I had been 'reassured' it was not difficult to speak. The Senior prefects conducting the school assembly were doubtful that the chit of a girl standing in front of them could have done what she had.

The rest, as they say, is history...

I spoke in every declaimation- Intra or Inter school. I debated in each category- For or against. I participated in the poetry recitations and the speech makings.And I loved each moment of it.

In those days- butterflies were only those pretty flitting creatures that loved flowers. They had nothing to do with a strange funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.

It was my father who taught me the most. He taught me that books ARE a (wo)man's best friend. He taught me that I CAN. Even if no one had done it before if I could think it, I could do it. He taught me never to let anyone tell me what I could not do. He led by example. To this day, I wonder what he found in our 'kiddie' weekly or monthly books. He would 'steal' the books as they were delivered to our doorstep by the newspaper vendor and playfully declare," Finders... Keepers...! I get to read it first because I got it first!" He would take these to work in his brief-case and strangely would allow us to raid his brief-case on his return from work in order to find these invitingly lying on top of all his papers! Was it really a co-incidence?!

My father made it possible for me to set standards for myself that very few had dreamed of in those days. My parents were among those rare few who got to see test-papers ACTUALLY marked 15 out of ten... five extra awarded for neatness and clarity of concepts.

I still remember that first day that set the tone of the days to come. I still remember how my mother waited and asked me first thing as I got off the school bus- How was the assembly. I remember waiting for Dad to come home to jump UP to his height and tell him ,"I did it!" ( Those were the days without cell phones!)

I remember the hug, the crushingly intense bear hug my dad gave me after having picked me up to his height- pleased and proud, happy and confident.

I rememeber a lot more...

Thank you, Dad!

I love you!