CHAPTER 7: APPRECIATION§
Rocky Times Made Me Appreciate My Family§
When Dad said I had to stop taking dance lessons, I stopped paying attention to what else he was saying. Not do dance? That was so unfair. That was the only thing I was allowed to do just for me. Without dance, it would be school, housework, homework and then school again. I didn’t waste time or money at the shopping center like most of my classmates. I barely had any activities outside school. I couldn’t believe I was being asked to give up the one thing that made me feel good all over.§
Once our parents left the room, my brother Palani started talking, “Can you believe that, Sahana? Dad’s partner took all his clients, and the business may fail. We might even lose our house! This can’t be happening. What if we just do all the other things Dad said—no cable TV, no allowances, no new clothes....” His voice trailed off, a blank look on his face.§
“Is that what Dad said?” Lost in my own distress, I had missed a lot of the conversation. Dad had just called me and my brothers, Palani and Ganesha, ages 11 and 4, to a family meeting. Mom was there, too, of course, but her expression made it clear it was Dad who would be explaining things. I caught the first part about his income being a lot lower now, but lost focus when he mentioned giving up dance. §
Clearly Palani had been paying attention. He started in again in a loud voice. “I can’t believe this! How am I supposed to fit in at school? People already think I’m weird because I’m not allowed to play video games. At least I could talk to my friends about TV shows, except the best ones, which we’re not allowed to watch.” He paced the room.§
“Shh, stop yelling. You’ll get in trouble,” I warned. §
But his concerns gave me more to think about. It wasn’t just dancing I would be giving up. It would be the hard-earned “fitting in.” When we moved to this country five years ago, I was ten, while Palani was only six. At that age, he didn’t have the trouble I had at school. When I started in elementary school, most of the other kids had known each other for years. Add to that my Indian accent, brown skin, different clothes and food, and I remained an outsider until I switched to middle school in seventh grade. So far, things had gone along as well as could be expected for a new citizen. But now I wouldn’t just be one of a few Indian girls at school, I would be the poor Indian girl who couldn’t afford field trips or new clothes. With one conversation, everything about my life was suddenly uncertain. What would become of our family? §
A week later, after school, there was a note from Mom:§
I am working an evening shift. §
Sahana, please make dinner. §
Palani, do the next page of Ganesh’s letter book with him. §
Love, Mom§
Mom worked as a nurse, usually about once a week to keep up her skills and stay on the hospital payroll. But now, with Dad’s decline in income, she began taking extra shifts. We didn’t know when we got home from school if she would be there or not.§
“Ugh, I have to cook!” I complained to Palani.§
“Ha ha!” he laughed, imitating a character from The Simpsons.§
“You have to help Ganesh with his letters,” I chided.§
“But I have homework!” Palani whined—the first time I had ever heard him use homework as an excuse. “And Ganesh’s books are so boring.” §
“You mean they’re too hard for you?” I teased. §
Palani glared back. §
“Why don’t you set up your books on the dining room table and do your homework while you help Ganesh?”§
“Fine,” he sighed.§
I looked for something to cook. There was no way I was cooking a fancy Indian meal, even though I could. There was some pasta and bottled tomato sauce in the pantry. That would be quick and easy.§
I knew Dad had arrived when I heard him call out to Palani to pick up his jacket. “You need to take better care of your things,” he said—implying, I concluded, that he would not be buying us new clothes for a long time.§
I took refuge in the kitchen, pretending to be fascinated with the pasta and sauce pots. After I heard Dad go upstairs, I peeked into the dining room. Ganesh was staring intently at his book, crayon in hand. Palani had rejoined him after putting his jacket away. He looked at me and gestured towards the upper floor. I shrugged. When he didn’t look away, I walked over to check on what they were doing. Palani was involved in math homework and Ganesh was doing an exercise where you select the pictures that start with the letter “L.” §
“Thanks for helping out,” I said to Palani. “Good job, Ganesh. You’re getting better at that.” He smiled. §
“Is there something wrong with Dad?” Palani asked. “Do you think he’s mad at me?”§
“I don’t know. I don’t know if he notices us at all.” A hissing sound came from the kitchen and I ran back to find the pasta boiling over. §
“Shoot!” I turned off the heat and started mopping up the stove. I would clean it thoroughly when it cooled down.§
A few minutes later, Dad appeared. “Where’s your mother?”§
“She has an evening shift,” I said as I strained the pasta.§
“Oh right, I forgot. Pasta for dinner?” §
He sounded disappointed. I knew Dad and Mom liked Western food less than we kids did, but it was easy to make. §
“Yes. It’s ready.”§
“Palani, Ganesh, please get your books off the table,” Dad called out a little more loudly than needed. I think he was trying to be helpful, but he sounded irritated. §
“But Dad, we’re not finished.”§
“It’s time for dinner.”§
“Fine!” Palani slammed his book closed and pulled Ganesh’s book out from under his hand, resulting in a big streak of crayon. §
“Look what you made me do!” Ganesh cried.§
“Ganesh, help your sister bring the dishes,” Dad ordered.§
“That’s okay, Dad, it’s almost ready,” I replied, while grumbling to myself. The boys would never offer to help on their own. Neither would Dad, for that matter.§
We ate in awkward silence. Palani glared at Dad, who was eating so quickly I don’t think he even tasted the food. “He’s lucky I cooked anything,” I thought. Ganesh ate so slowly. Dad hadn’t noticed Palani and Ganesh working together. All he saw was that they were in the way of serving dinner. He finished quickly and took his plate to the kitchen.§
“Don’t forget to clean the stove, Sahana,” he called, then went back to the computer, where he had spent nearly every evening for the last week.§
I couldn’t take it anymore. But I knew not to say anything within Dad’s hearing. “Couldn’t even bother to thank me,” I huffed to the boys.§
“I hate this family!” Palani said, quick to anger as always.§
“Yeah!” Ganesh agreed, banging his fork on the table.§
Our family wasn’t tense before Dad’s business troubles. Was this what we had to look forward to from now on?§
At school the next day I told my best friend Sarah about my problems, about how it didn’t matter what I do, that Dad either complains or ignores us.§
“It started with his trouble at work. He lost a lot of his accounting clients and is now making a lot less money.”§
“That must be hard on him,” she said. §
I was taken aback. “What do you mean, hard on him? It’s hard on all of us.”§
“But a man’s supposed to take care of his family. My dad couldn’t handle the pressure of all that responsibility. At least that’s what my mother said. He left us five years ago, after he got fired and couldn’t find another place to work. My mother didn’t even have a job back then, so I know what it’s like to have no money. Just try having no father, too!”§
“But not having enough money isn’t just about him. The way he acts, it’s like he doesn’t realize it affects us kids as well.”§
“He knows, trust me, he knows.”§
As I walked home, I thought about Sarah’s words. We didn’t expect Dad to take care of everything all the time, did we? In the families I knew, it was expected that the man would work outside the home, but the woman did or did not, depending on the family’s viewpoint and circumstances. Was it possible that even today, with equal rights and all, a man who couldn’t support his family might consider himself a failure?§
My parents had always told me it was important for a woman to have a college degree so she could work if she had to, but did it bother my father that Mom had to work almost full time now? I suddenly realized that all the time he was spending on the computer lately was probably trying to rebuild his business. He used to avoid the computer at night in order to spend time with us. I had to talk to Mom; she would tell me what was going on.§
I found her in the kitchen before Dad came home from work. “Dad would never leave us, would he?”§
She looked up, shocked. “Why would you say such a thing?”§
I had been way too blunt, but I was getting tired of no one talking openly. §
“Sarah said her dad left them because he couldn’t handle the pressure after losing his job. Dad must be under a lot of pressure to improve his business.”§
“Your father is a good man. He will get through this.”§
“Does he have to make it so hard on us? He could thank us once in a while. He never notices how much Palani and I have been helping out around here. I don’t think he realizes that, with you working more hours, there’s a lot we have to take care of.”§
Mom turned to face me. “Are you asking about appreciation? This family is going through rough times. I expect you to recognize what tasks need to be done and do them without wanting someone to say ‘Thank you, Sahana.’ Needing praise all the time shows weak-mindedness. Do you understand that? It’s a form of vanity. Would you ever ask someone to tell you you’re pretty?” §
I couldn’t believe this—my mother didn’t understand at all. “So you’re saying it’s wrong to ever expect gratitude, even a simple thank you?”§
“I want you to feel compassion for your father. That word, compassion, literally means ‘suffer with.’ Feel what he’s going through, feel his pain, then help him. You’re not a little girl anymore.”§
“It seems like a small thing for him to say thanks once in a while,” I replied stubbornly. But I was starting to realize she had a point.§
“Maybe so, but when you grow up more you will realize that’s an unrealistic expectation. And being angry about it detracts from everything else in your life. Think about what I do at work. Patients are angry about their illness and take it out on the nearest person, which is often me. If I allowed their negativity to bother me, I could become angry as well. And if I am rude back to them, they feel their ungrateful attitude is justified. But if I treat them with kindness, their outlook usually improves, and both our days are made better. Do you understand?”§
“You can’t control the attitudes of other people, but you can still be positive yourself?”§
“Exactly,” she said, seeming pleased that I wasn’t a lost cause after all. “You can only change yourself and remind yourself to be appreciative. You can’t make other people do that.”§
The next evening when Dad came home, Palani and Ganesh were reading together in the living room. I had been putting dishes away, but stopped and stood by so I could intervene if Dad got irritated with Palani. Getting new clients for an accounting firm is a slow process, so I expected him to be down.§
I winced when he tripped over the boys’ shoes in the doorway. He looked down at them, frowning.§
“Palani,” Dad said, approaching the back of the sofa.§
By the way Palani jumped to attention, I could tell he had been absorbed in whatever he and Ganesh had been looking at. “Dad!” §
“Oh, don’t give Dad that shifty-eyed look,” I thought—”it makes you look guilty.” I suspected it was just because he expected to be told to do something. I didn’t think he had actually done anything wrong, though with little brothers you can never be sure.§
“I want you to pick up—” he said as he rounded the sofa. “Oh.”§
“Pick up what, Dad?”§
“Were you reading to your brother?” he asked incredulously, seeing the book in Palani’s hands. §
I suppressed a chuckle, knowing it wouldn’t help, though Palani caught my smirk. Usually he had to be almost bribed to read anything, especially to his brother, who was book obsessed. I understood why Dad was surprised, but I also knew Palani had started taking his big-brother role seriously after I explained to him how Mom and Dad needed our help.§
“Yes, but I’ll stop if you want,” he offered.§
“No, no. That’s okay. Keep reading to Ganesh.”§
“Really? Did you need me to do something?”§
“No, I need you to just sit back down and continue with your story. I have to check my email.” §
Dad started walking away and then saw me, just standing there, staring. I pretended I was heading for the dining room. “I’ll just clear the table for you.” We had left our school stuff on the table, and that always bothered him.§
“It’s fine. You can do it later,” he said. At my surprised expression, he continued, “Actually, you could just put the bags on the floor next to the table. Then your homework will be right there for you later.”§
“Oh, okay.” That was nice of him. He usually insisted we keep all our books in our rooms. It made me want to respond kindly, as Mom and I had discussed. “How was your day?” I asked. §
He turned back to me, startled. Had I never asked him that before? At first I didn’t think he was going to respond. Maybe I had overstepped some adult-child barrier. §
He paused, then answered frankly, “Not as good as I would like. I spent half the day standing in line at the government building investigating income assistance programs, so I didn’t have much time to spend on my actual business.” §
“That must have been difficult,” I said, recalling Sarah’s statement. I felt really strange, and not just because I had suddenly realized our father was a person, too. The strangest part was that I hadn’t realized that sooner.§
“Boring, maybe, but not difficult,” he responded. “It was most difficult for the staff who work there. Day after day they have to face people who have lost their jobs or most of their income—people who are often angry and belligerent. These people come and wait indoors in a nice building in order to get financial aid that isn’t even available in many other countries, and yet security guards are needed to protect the staff from verbal and physical assault.”§
“No appreciation there at all.”§
“No, none,” he agreed, shaking his head. “And it made me realize how hard all this must be for you and your brothers. It’s not your fault, and there’s nothing you can do about it, but still you suffer.”§
I suddenly noticed how tired Dad looked. He used to stand up so straight, and now he was practically leaning against the wall. “Can I bring you some tea?” I asked.§
His eyes widened. “That would be most kind. Thank you, Sahana.”§
“Oh, Dad, you don’t need to thank me! You’re the one with the challenge right now. I just want to help.”§
A soft look came over his eyes. “I think I’m having what you kids would call an attitude adjustment. I’ve realized that when things got rough, I started focusing on negatives, and that’s been hard on the three of you. That is not the way I want to be.”§
I offered, “Mom and I were talking about using prayer and meditation to keep our thoughts positive.” §
“Excellent. I want us to have a harmonious home life. For Hindus, family harmony is of utmost importance. We need to start remembering that everyone has it hard sometimes and to be empathetic and appreciative of each other.”§
“I for one am grateful to be in this family,” I said sincerely, giving him a hug.§
Before I went to sleep that night, I meditated on how it was a challenging time for our family, but I was able to stop worrying about what would happen, knowing we would persevere together, always grateful and appreciative of one another, always ready to help each other get through the day.§