Why, and how I became Dr. Tinu Xavier.

“Authorised Franchisee Baby Xavier”. Those words had been in the front of Papa’s Milma** booth for as long as I could remember. I remembered when I was four years old, I had run off from our small house behind the booth and stood before those words, gazing wistfully above, wishing fervently that it was my name that was there.

Papa had seen me then and asked, “Lovely, isn’t it? It does give a man a proud feeling to have his name thus, for any passerby to observe. “

And it had seemed to me to be lovely, lovelier than my Papa could ever have felt. And it had existed in its lovely perfection for exactly one year, after which I seemed to notice imperfections I had never noticed before. For I started school.

My Papa and Ammachi*** had wanted me to be convent-educated and had settled on a nice one nearby, and not on the neighbourhood government school that my playmates of the time went. Even though it meant a certain tightening of the family budget (which I remained sadly unaware till a later time), my parents managed to find me a place in the school.

“Well, we must see about that. If you want it so badly, it must be so, I suppose” he said in a different tone from what he normally used to me.

My pride in the name board and my Papa quite vanished by midday , after I suddenly discovered that it is not the best thing in the world to be Authorised Franchisee of Milma.

It occurred thus. I began boasting to anyone who would hear that my father had his name on a board hung outside our Milma booth. Maybe because she was tired of my bragging, maybe because she herself was proud of her own papa, one girl suddenly informed me in the haughtiest voice, “My father has his name on a board outside our house. He is a doctor. He saves people’s lives. You have to go to my father if you have a sickness. He has lots of things which your father does not have”.

We both started having a wordfight with discussions of what our respective fathers could do, and what we had in our houses. Here, I found she had a definite advantage, as I didn’t even know half the things she described. I knew I was losing this verbal duel.

To this day, I am ashamed of what I did next. I launched an attack on her. I went after her with my hands and legs, thrashing about and kicking. Getting over her initial surprise, she proved to be quite an opponent, and finally we had to be physically separated by our teacher.

“Fighting, that too on the first day of school. “ We were both rewarded with a cane, for in those days, corporal punishment was not frowned upon.

I couldn’t wait for school to get over, so I could tell Papa about the day’s happenings. Papa, having heard about the fight from my teacher was thoughtful. I was vocal, I was angry with that girl for she had told that her father was better than mine. I was angry because she had so many things in her house. Worse, I was angry towards my Papa because I felt there was some truth in what she told me that day. I was starting to see that being a Milma booth-owner’s daughter had many disadvantages I had not seen before.

Oh, Papa, I would listen to you forever if I had a chance now, but my angry little heart refused to do it that day. I pretended, as if to understand.

I listened to your talk about how each job had its merits. There were things about a Milma booth-owner’s job that I didn’t know. Like I could have all the milk in the world first thing in the morning, but my friend would have to wait till the milkman had brought it to her house. My Papa tried to cheer me up with his words, but it was as if, he knew as I knew that the cause was lost, and the charm in his profession had gone from my eyes forever.

Next day, I went to school, but did not talk to that girl, but sat at a distance and observed. She did not appear as flustered as I felt, but slowly, as the day progressed, I made a few new friends and did not feel as miserable as I thought I would be.

The first of my school days was the day I started growing up, but my growing up was filled with frustration. I couldn’t have all the things I wanted to, though my dear Papa never made me go without anything I really needed. He tried as well as he could to make me happy, but I had my enemy to contend with- my envy towards the girl who seemed to have everything. Slowly, my dreams changed and now my sole ambition was to become a doctor.

“If my Tinumol wants to be a Doctor, she shall be. The Lord knows she has it in her. I wouldn’t stand against her dreams, for anything in the world.”

And he didn’t. I finished my Plus-Two and made it through the Medical Entrance test, for studying hard was never a problem for me. I joined Medical College and stayed in the hostel, for commuting to and from my house daily was difficult. At least, this was the excuse that I told, even to myself. If I want to be really truthful to myself, I should say that I was ashamed. Ashamed of my small house. Ashamed of the Milma booth in front. And, worst of all, ashamed of my good Papa.

I did well in Medical College , as I always did. I gradually learned that spite was not the only reason I wanted to be a doctor. I found that I loved taking care of people. I loved the power that I felt, when a patient comes to a doctor, fully believing in the doctor’s ability. I loved every bit of it.

Finally I graduated from Tinu Xavier to Dr. Tinu Xavier. My Papa was full of pride that day. He told the world that would listen that his daughter was a doctor.

“Tinumol, who would take care of my Milma booth if I am gone? No, dear, you go, I will be fine here. “

I couldn’t listen further. My ears refused to hear, my brain refused to register, that my Papa mortgaged and later was forced to sell the Milma booth. All for me, all for my education. In my eagerness towards earning a degree, I did not ask myself questions as to how the money was coming. I never wondered what my parents did for my comforts, my pleasure.

I ran inside, took hold of Papa with both hands and cried. I thank The Heavenly Father that I was able to say sorry and thank my Earthly one.