The day of my Father’s birth … and I have lived today like any other … quiet with no particular thought, with no particular feel, with no particular act. Nothing ! Nothing has been different, except the flowers over his portrait and his room and the gates of our homes. There has been no particular talk of him either. Relatives have called, remembrances have been exchanged and gratefulness expressed. But nothing more.

But … I have remembered those winter evenings of his birthdays in Allahabad and Delhi. The cool and wintery mornings, the greetings and the presence of his fans and followers, students, lovers of his works all gathering together in the early hours and the hot drinks of coffee and tea prepared by my Mother with affection welcoming them to the house. The exuberance of my Mother’s spirited presence filling the entire house with laughter and joy. And later in the evening a few select friends over for dinner. A special meal made, dry fruits by the fireside in the hall .. and poetry ! My Father’s recitation till the early hours of the morning and the never satisfied audience craving for more.

The entire day today has been spent in isolation of him and his memories. No one has spoken, no one has asked, none have expressed anything. I had stood in front of his portrait in his room this morning. Vacant and devoid of any emotion. I had had reason to express it the previous night … but I will not speak of it, not here at least or on public platform. But yes, it was an overwhelming moment for me. And someday we shall speak of it. But not today.

Today, I have now, as I write, turned pages of his writings in his thoughts. I have gone back in memory of his descriptions in his autobiography of days gone by, of his opinions on many facets of literature and poem, on life and circumstance and his struggle … and I long for those times to return. Yes to return, so I could with my placement today as an elder, be able to give solace and relief to my parents in their moments of despair and hardship. To have been there to look after all the menace that they encountered. To have protected and shielded them from all the misery that they went through. I cringe today as I read the honesty with which my Father describes his days and those of my Mother and us, in those harsh times and I wish I could go back and with my capable ability now to be able to wipe away all that was unfulfilling and ugly in their lives.

Life shall not permit me to do that, nor shall time. But my prayers for them, my parents, shall ever be addressed every day for the peace and happiness of their souls. That they may in their heavenly abode be rid of any hurdles, issues, problems and worries. May all that perturbs them or has perturbed them be directed to me to look after and handle. And may the Almighty give me the shakti or strength to be able to accomplish that.

His books lie beside me today and as I turn the pages of his life and work I can almost feel his presence by my side, guiding and correcting me, advising me, giving me the lessons of his works and its meaning

In and during the early years of my work in the film industry, my Father once had taken ill and had to undergo surgery at the Willingdon Hospital in Delhi , then. I had flown down to be with him and during the long hours at the hospital I would carry his books along to be taught and enlightened on his genius, by sitting by his bedside listening to him explain his works to me. He was, I know, happiest doing that and I the happiest listening. Those moments will never return, but their memory retains itself within me and guides and assists as I stumble along in this remorseless world.

Each word and sentence of his resounds today with endless meaning and worth. And I regret each living day of his absence from within us, about us. But I give myself solace in the greatest gift he left behind for us and indeed the world - his writings ! They shall ever be my yardstick with which I shall continue to be judged by the world. Legacy and tradition and value emanates from those that came before us and what they wished and taught us. You will not be able to acquire respect and dignity and bearing, unless you have been born and groomed in it. What you inherit shall remain for you to add on to after your birth. But it is not only through your inheritance that you build your assets. You have the capacity to build it yourself too, within your own dedicated parameters. Blessed are they that are able to accomplish that, for they shall need to build what others may never have to. Amen !!

Abhishek went off to Kolkata in the morning for film promotional work and returned at the same time that the other sibling Shweta flew in from Delhi to spend the week end with us. The family seemed complete and happy as we sat together, reliving old memories. I went to pick up the daughter from the airport and we spent time on our way back discussing her writing abilities and how she must continue to do so, even if it is for her personal self.

And to her credit she has.

Shweta has been reading the epics and putting them down in her own style and language. I am asked to go through them on her iPad as we drive back and it is beautiful to read what she composes. She takes the facts and the stories and adds to it in her own presentation the flow of the story.

She is reading the Ramayan and her description on it is there, stored away, as she would say for her children. But I feel it is material that needs to be published. I shall attempt to put some samples of it soon.

And as always when Shweta is around there is never a dull moment in the house. Her zest her energy and joy all spill over to each individual - the family, the staff … even the pet !!

She is here to do a Koffee with Karan with me tomorrow. Karan’s Mother treats her as the daughter she did not have, so tomorrow shall be exciting and enticing too !! Ha ha ha !!

In closing I have a question for all : ” What were you doing when you were 13 ” !!??

Love to all and with all … and my personal thanks to all those from the FmXt that have wished my Father on his 103rd !!

Amitabh Bachchan

ps : Atul Ojha from EF visited me this evening and presented me with some brilliant pieces of poetry composed in honour of my Father - deeply touched ! Thank you Atul !