acha (dad),

when i was in second grade or so, we were talking about asking doubts in class, or you were taking apart a flower to prove sex to me, or explaining how my bicycle’s gears worked, and some times i asked if i HAD to care, and you said, ‘it's just curiosity. you HAVE to be curious.’

there was a frustration to your tone that i remember clearly, mostly because of how sincere it was? or is the word earnest?

so i thought about it for a while and then i decided that yes, you were right, i had to be curious. and thank you, it has served me well.

a lot of what i know about living, i owe to your honesty.

and it is that simple, really.

many years later, a month before i graduate from that college, i’m drinking a banana shake at Ravindra’s Fruit Stall, and dad, on the phone, mentions in passing that bananas reproduce asexually. amma asks why it's called Ravindra with a V if my hostel is named after Rabindranath Tagore.

maybe there's a fine line between curiosity and wonder.

i wish i knew how to quit you or something.