On this Father’s Day, I look back and trace my journey from childhood to adulthood. It’s a story of shifting homes, languages, and friendships, where my parents’ wishes—and especially my father’s vision for my future—formed a constant thread, though their true significance only became clear with time.
I was born at my maternal grandfather’s home in a village while my father was away at Airforce station, Srinagar. Me and my mom were put in a cosy, separate room, to protect us from infections and also as part of post-delivery recovery. I was in the warmth of my mother’s arms in those winter nights. One night, burglars broke into that house. They actually broke the window pane, and opened our room door from outside, to enter into the house! Cannot ask for more than this to add to the celebrations of my birth. My mother was so scared that, even today, she cannot sleep alone in that room!
Myself and mom joined with Father at Bangalore as he was posted at the Bangalore Airforce station. On many holidays, my father took us to Lalbagh to play near the Glass House and running around the Lalbagh trees. From there we often visited Indian Coffee House at MG Road, where my parents enjoyed Masala Dosa and strong coffee. Then we would return home on a long bus ride from Shivaji Nagar.
Though I donot recall the exact years, my father was later posted again at Srinagar, after a brief stint in Shillong (Meghalaya state). As a kid, I have those beautiful black & white pictures taken by my father – me sitting on a hill top in green bushy meadows, overlooking a valley with never-ending grass land. A winding road runs through that valley, and a small blue Airforce station bus (brought us for a weekend picnic) parked near foot of the hill. I barely remember anything beyond those pictures. My initial schooling started at Srinagar, studied LKG & UKG at Airfornce Station Sainik school. I recently found my report card of UKG – and amused that I secured highest marks in Urdu!!! I safely stored that report card, only to find now that I can no longer locate it.
My father’s next posting was at Allahabad Airforce Station, a beautiful township surrounded by forest. Our house had a lovely garden my parents nurtured with vegetables like cabbage, carrots, radish, and greens, with a backyard full of grass, bushes, & small flowers – always visited by colorful butterflies. Here, our family was complete —my father, mother, and we three brothers, the youngest being an infant. As a school-going kid, I loved riding on Airforce school bus, sometimes on Shaktiman truck. Each morning, I watched father getting ready with his perfectly ironed Uniform, while still polishing his brass belt buckle, medals and shoes and humming popular retro Hindi songs.
During a visit to my grandfather’s village with my mother and brothers, the elders discussed whether I should stay there for school to avoid disruptions from my father’s frequent transfers. My mother asked if I’d be happy living with my grandparents, uncles, and cousins, and I cheerfully agreed. In 2nd grade at the time, I had to switch from Hindi/English medium to Telugu medium to join the village school, so I took tuitions and practiced hard for 2 months to pass the 2nd grade exam in Telugu and move to 3rd grade. In class, I stood out as a “pseudo hero” in the class, because I could write and speak few Hindi and English words unlike anyone else in that school. Today it is a great feeling to remember that village life – a simple, serene, pious, and minimalist life.
When my father left the Airforce and settled down as a Mathematics teacher in Hyderabad, I was asked to rejoin my parents during my 7th grade. He was keen for me to return from village life to ensure I received a better education and to lay a strong foundation for my career— as always, he was probably right. I continued in a Telugu medium school until 10th grade, but most of my neighbourhood friends spoke either English or Hindi, rarely Telugu. This made our evening playtime conversations quite interesting—not for me, but for my friends, who often struggled to understand what I was saying! I still remember one of the kids from our neighbourhood (Mathews?) from Kerala, who spoke English and Malayalam; I wonder if he still remembers me for my language! School itself was comfortable, as all interactions were in Telugu, and I was reasonably well recognized for my academic skills.
I joined Keshav Memorial College in Narayanaguda, Hyderabad, for my 11th and 12th grades. It was an English medium intermediate college where my father had friends among the faculty. Aware of the challenge I would face switching to English medium, he made sure I could approach most staff in Telugu, even though all subjects were taught in English. The Mathematics, Physics, and Chemistry teachers there were exceptionally renowned, also teaching at famous SSR Tutorials – ideal setup for preparing for the Engineering Colleges Admission Test. I was a below average student at college, but I managed to clear 12th in reasonable marks, and secured a rank that could get me into a government-aided engineering colleges in Kadapa or Tirupati, not sure on branch. After one counselling session, my father advised me to give up the idea, as Kadapa colleges at that time were notorious for political rivalries and unrest among student leaders. Ultimately, I secured admission for a B.Sc. in Hyderabad.
One of my father’s close friends mentioned an engineering college where he was taking his son for admission. My father decided to take me as well, and I secured admission to Environmental Engineering at Walchand Institute of Technology, Solapur, even though the fees were higher than we could comfortably afford. He was quick at connecting with the college principal, and built a good rapport. After my first year, I realized Environmental Engineering followed the same syllabus as Civil Engineering, which didn’t appeal to me, especially since I suffered from severe migraines and disliked future career to work in heat and sun. With no telephones or online advice available then, I simply walked into the principal’s office who recognized me. He told me that transferring to my favourite Mechanical or Electronics wasn’t possible, as those branches were full, but suggested I consider Computer Engineering—a new branch with few takers, and the first batch at our college and 2nd batch in university. Since computers meant working indoors in air-conditioned rooms, I accepted the offer without hesitation. I only informed my father of the change a couple of months later, through a letter.
Despite an intensive job search after completing my engineering degree, I struggled to secure job – even though I cleared most written tests, exams, and group discussions. My biggest disappointments were failing the final interviews at Visakhapatnam Steel Plant and the National Informatics Center, Mumbai. With my father’s health deteriorating and challenging circumstances at home, I couldn’t consider opportunities outside Hyderabad. One day, my father’s boss visited him in the hospital and, upon meeting me, offered me a position as teaching staff at their computer center. That opportunity marked the start of my career. There, I learned the Xenix (Microsoft owned Unix variant) and mastered it – which is a critical skill that later helped me secure job at the prestigious Bhabha Atomic Research Center in Mumbai.
I cannot thank enough to my parents for giving me such wide opportunities, and my father being there physically as well as invisibly guiding me. Those four years of living in the village were the icing on the cake of life, an invaluable experience. Hope now everyone understands what I mean, my father did all this to me!
I Didn’t sign up for it—he enrolled me anyway!!!
Swamy Podila 