I didn't travel much when I was a child, mainly because my health was quite suspect, and parents were protective of me.
I was 14, when I got selected for the Kerala State Under 19 Cricket Coaching Camp in Kannur, lasting 21 days, more than 200 kms and a 7 hours drive from Palakkad, where I lived. I was a frail boy weighing barely 36 kg and Kannur seemed a long way off. Hesitantly I told my parents about my selection, anticipating a flat 'No'. My mother reacted predictably, but surprisingly my Father gave permission. I expected him to travel with me to Kannur and pick me back. He took me as far as the State Transport Bus Stand, put me on a Bus and walked off, without even looking back. Remember, this is to a place where I have never been before, and we didn't have a telephone at home!.
I reached Kannur, went to the School where we were supposed to stay (sleeping in benches in a classroom converted to a dormitory). It was only after 2 days that I was able to walk down to the post office, and send a letter to my father I have reached safe, which he got after another couple of days. Thus, for 4-5 days I was incommunicado, and he must have been worried, but he never showed. It was his way of toughening me up. The Camp was a failure, for Kannur got Summer rains like never before or never after during the duration of the camp, and we ended up playing Football as the pitch was soggy most of the days. The toughest part was defecating, as we had to use temporary open toilets and the stink was unbearable.
In many ways, the 1978 summer holidays was unforgettable. Apart from the experience of the Camp, a couple of days after my return, I was in the car (we had a VW Beetle), when father queried gruffly "Are you tall enough to press the Clutch fully?". When I affirmed, he stopped the car immediately, asked me to take over the drivers seat and told me to 'just drive'!. I had the experience of sitting in my father's lap as a child and handle the Steering, and always used to help him shift the gears while sitting beside him. But this was like a dream come true. The road was narrow, winding and there were paddy fields all around. I started the car and believe it or not drove as if I have been born to drive. Father sat stoically beside me, putting an arm over my shoulder, and using his fingers to press on my shoulder if I make a small mistake. My mother had gone to Mumbai, for her fathers first death anniversary, and my father used the opportunity to give me lot of freedom, She was very cross when she came back, that he had taught such a young kid driving, but we got away with it.
It is not just that he taught me driving, but he also allowed me to drive the car under his watchful eyes, whenever we went out, though I was still 4 years away from getting my Driving License. The trip to our native village Kollengode during the rainy season was breathtaking against the backdrop of the mountains and the waterfalls (see picture on the right), and for each one we had a name like Palakappandi etc.
A week after I started driving the car, I was in the pillion seat of my brothers DKW 250 cc motorcycle, when he casually asked "I heard you have started driving the car. Fine, now you might as well learn how to drive a bike". He taught me driving the monster (for a puny boy weighing all of 35 kg, the bike was a real monster!).
Thus it was a different me who went to the school on 1st June 1978, to commence my 10th Standard (SSLC or School Final, as my batch attended College for 11th and 12th as Pre Degree Course). My confidence was sky high (in hindsight, perhaps that is what my father wanted), which went a long way in giving me the much needed self confidence to do well in 10th Standard.
