"Kept in a small bowl, the goldfish will remain small.. with more space, the fish will grow double, triple or quadruple its size."
It's father's day and I'm watching Big Fish... No movie better summarizes Dad for me. From leaving Kamalpur to getting his college degree. Leaving for America, building a life, chasing dreams...
Happy Father's day DaDa!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
30,60 90 Triangles
Going back to Algebra Math really brings me back to Dad.
It was always the same routine. Nightly, he would walk from room to room to see what each child was doing, and when intrigued by the subject we were working on, he'd invite us back to his room so he could teach us more about the subject (or the right way of doing it). Dad was always intrigued by Math- any level, he just couldn't be stumped.We never wanted to be caught doing math, because boy was he good in math. And he wasn't just good in math, he was brilliant at it. He knew had to solve equations in such rudimentary form. He laughed at us when we asked to spend $90 on a graphing calculator. (In fact I don't think we anyone of us ever got money to spend on one). But I digress.
If by chance you were caught doing math, he would tell you to bring your notebook to his room so he can teach how its really done. The walk from my room to his always seemed way too short. In his cave, he would start with the problem and ask me if knew the definition of the term, "Do you know what Cosign means?". Usually I didn't-- hey, I was just learning it for the next day's test...so usually I would say "No" to which he would saying something of the sort "You need to learn from the beginning. If you don't know the beginning you will never learn" and then he would turn the book back three chapters to make sure I understood the roots. If I didn't know how to answer questions in that chapter, he would go back 3 more chapters. Sometimes I would be doing homework in Chapter 12 of my Trig. book only to leave his room back at Chapter 1. And boy was he a stickler. He would hold us accountable for finishing all the problems in the previous chapters to ensure we understood what the heck a hypotenuse on a triangle was, or what a 30,60,90 triangle really meant. But we always got good grades in Math. And oddly, we all find joy in doing any type of Math problems. (How many people can say that?)
Fast forward 15+ years and here I am revisiting all of these principles once again for another test. I still get stuck, sorry Dad, I sometimes learned how to fake solving the problems with you too :) But I can still hear his voice and remember his perfect handwriting. The way he used to draw his very cool "x" or his perfect 90 degree angles.
I felt like writing this post to just say: Dad, as much as I hated being called into your room, and would curse myself for being caught doing math on the walk from my room to yours, I wish you could help me on a few problems today. Nevertheless, thanks for building my foundation,I hope to pass your math principles down for many generations to come.
(two two-ja four, three three-ja nine, four four-ja, sixteen :) )
It was always the same routine. Nightly, he would walk from room to room to see what each child was doing, and when intrigued by the subject we were working on, he'd invite us back to his room so he could teach us more about the subject (or the right way of doing it). Dad was always intrigued by Math- any level, he just couldn't be stumped.We never wanted to be caught doing math, because boy was he good in math. And he wasn't just good in math, he was brilliant at it. He knew had to solve equations in such rudimentary form. He laughed at us when we asked to spend $90 on a graphing calculator. (In fact I don't think we anyone of us ever got money to spend on one). But I digress.
If by chance you were caught doing math, he would tell you to bring your notebook to his room so he can teach how its really done. The walk from my room to his always seemed way too short. In his cave, he would start with the problem and ask me if knew the definition of the term, "Do you know what Cosign means?". Usually I didn't-- hey, I was just learning it for the next day's test...so usually I would say "No" to which he would saying something of the sort "You need to learn from the beginning. If you don't know the beginning you will never learn" and then he would turn the book back three chapters to make sure I understood the roots. If I didn't know how to answer questions in that chapter, he would go back 3 more chapters. Sometimes I would be doing homework in Chapter 12 of my Trig. book only to leave his room back at Chapter 1. And boy was he a stickler. He would hold us accountable for finishing all the problems in the previous chapters to ensure we understood what the heck a hypotenuse on a triangle was, or what a 30,60,90 triangle really meant. But we always got good grades in Math. And oddly, we all find joy in doing any type of Math problems. (How many people can say that?)
Fast forward 15+ years and here I am revisiting all of these principles once again for another test. I still get stuck, sorry Dad, I sometimes learned how to fake solving the problems with you too :) But I can still hear his voice and remember his perfect handwriting. The way he used to draw his very cool "x" or his perfect 90 degree angles.
I felt like writing this post to just say: Dad, as much as I hated being called into your room, and would curse myself for being caught doing math on the walk from my room to yours, I wish you could help me on a few problems today. Nevertheless, thanks for building my foundation,I hope to pass your math principles down for many generations to come.
(two two-ja four, three three-ja nine, four four-ja, sixteen :) )
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
What Would Dad Do?
The past two years have been life changing for me. Getting laid off from my government job, starting a company, moving back home. I definitely have days of not knowing which direction to go, or if I'm headed in the right direction. I wish Dad could be mentally able to help me make some decisions. When I feel really lost I always think about how Dad must have felt when he left Kamalpur that day. Making it to Nawadah probably wasn't a big deal, but getting on that train to Calcutta... Man that must have been some feeling. I wonder how often he doubted his decision. I know he never retreated, so he was steadfast on his resolve to make it. Every now and then when I feel like retreating, I wonder what would dad do?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Found an old pic of Dad
Monday, January 3, 2011
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