Raagini & Dev

Two children. Two very different stories.

Illustrated pencils and books reflecting Raagini's creative, independent path

Sometimes I look at Raagini and Dev and, for a moment, the adults disappear. I still see the little girl and little boy who once filled our days with questions, laughter and worry. Somehow, almost without us noticing, they grew up, found their own paths, made choices we never could have predicted and surprised us in ways we could never have imagined.

Between the two of them, Rimpy and I have worried, laughed, argued, learned, made mistakes and occasionally even got a few things right. We thought we were raising two children. Somewhere along the way, they were raising us too.

Watercolor sketch of Dev's gloriously messy room with his motto: Don't organize my room. You will spoil the whole mess. — Dev's Den

Raagini

1998 · Fremont, California

HERESHEIS

6.9 lb. Manufactured by Monika & Raman.

Thanksgiving 1998 illustration with autumn leaves

Dev

2003 · Hayward, California

In a hurry from Day One.

Apparently, he had places to be.

Playful illustration about the pronunciation of Dev's name

Thanksgiving Day

Raagini arrived on Thanksgiving Day in 1998. Apparently, she had already decided that other people's plans were of limited importance. The doctor had gone for a Thanksgiving turkey lunch when she decided it was time to enter the world.

Things moved quickly, and at the last minute the doctors had to make an emergency incision to get her out. Soon after she was born, she was moved to Lucile Packard Children's Hospital for specialized care. For the first few days, Mom and daughter were in different hospitals and I shuttled between the two, wanting to be with both and unable to be with both.

Not quite the Thanksgiving we had planned. But then again, Raagini has rarely followed the plan.

Dev. Or was it?

If Raagini made an event of arriving in the world, Dev made it easy. Easiest labor of the two, and there he was. On his first day at the hospital, we named him Dev, pronounced the Hindi way, closer to Dave. Three letters. Simple. Surely even Americans couldn't get this one wrong.

Within hours, a nurse was calling for the parents of Dev, pronounced like the beginning of development. Rimpy and I heard her and ignored her, wondering what kind of irresponsible parents could hear a nurse repeatedly calling and not respond. Eventually it dawned on us.

We were the irresponsible parents. Apparently we had named our son Dev, not Dave.

Independent. Very early.

When she was in kindergarten, Raagini was assigned to an overflow school. Getting there meant taking a school bus and then changing buses by herself. She was tiny, and today I wonder how we ever allowed it. But she did it. No drama. She figured it out.

People would often tell us she looked like Kareena Kapoor. I disagreed. I thought she looked better. But then, I am the dad. I am allowed one completely unbiased opinion.

The funny bone

Dev became the funny bone of our home. One Thanksgiving dinner, we recreated the brownie scene from Notting Hill. Everyone had to explain why their life sucked the most and therefore why they deserved the brownie. People made elaborate cases. Then came Dev.

“I have Raagini as a sister.”

Case closed. I don't remember who got the brownie. I remember who deserved it.

Somewhere along the way

As Raagini grew older, Rimpy and I had our share of unnecessary arguments at home. I was also drinking regularly in those years. Growing up around that, she probably began to see Dad as the person who was usually wrong. Her perception wasn't entirely wrong.

During high school I pushed her into subjects that I thought she should take. Looking back, it was a huge mistake. Here was a child who had been finding her own way since she was little enough to change school buses, and I was trying to decide which way she should go.

Somewhere through those years, we drifted apart. We talked about it many times, and I said sorry many times too. But there is a difference between saying sorry because you want the hurt to go away and understanding the hurt well enough to know what you are sorry for.

I missed her a lot, specially when she was at UIUC. More than she probably knew.

Dev affectionately hugging Rimpy while Raagini reacts nearby

His Bhais

There is another side of Dev I particularly love watching: his relationship with his mother. He calls Rimpy “bhais.” Yes, buffalo. To anyone overhearing it, a grown son calling his mother buffalo may sound like an excellent way to get thrown out of the house. From Dev, somehow, it is one of the most endearing ways I have heard anyone address his mother.

Then there is the hugging. He will hug Rimpy, cuddle her and hang around her while Raagini visibly cringes nearby. The more Raagini cringes, I suspect, the more satisfying the hug becomes. There is teasing in the word and mischief in the hugging, but underneath both is unmistakable: he adores his mother.

And then she called

Raagini graduated in Environmental Science with a minor in Computer Science and found a job with one of the large technology companies in the Bay Area. A perfectly sensible path. Then one day she called and said she wanted to learn acting.

Acting? My first thought was that we all acted quite enough at home already. But she meant the real thing. She had been looking at Stella Adler. While reading about it, I also came across the Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute, where Ranbir Kapoor had trained. Raagini applied, got in, and went.

I was proud that she got in, but prouder that she had dared to apply. Perhaps the little girl changing buses hadn't changed very much after all. Maybe this time Dad had.

Dumbbell and protein shaker illustration

The turnaround

At Santa Clara University there were a couple of years when we worried about him. Perhaps he was exploring himself, perhaps trying to fit in. Some extracurricular habits worried us, and his grades began to fall.

What stays with me now isn't that he stumbled. It is how he came back. He built a disciplined physical routine, became serious about work and started applying himself with a determination I hadn't seen before. And he did it himself.

Our smaller conversations have also shown me how analytical he can be. And when Dev commits to doing something at a certain time, I know I can rely on him. There is more going on inside that bearded head than he sometimes lets on.

Rental house in Indianapolis illustration

Her own line to draw

Acting wasn't the only unexpected turn. Raagini became interested in real estate, learned the business, researched opportunities far beyond the Bay Area and today owns two rental properties in Indianapolis.

Environmental Science. Computer Science. Tech. Acting. Real estate. There isn't an obvious straight line through any of it. Maybe that's the point. It is her line to draw. I wish I had understood that a little earlier.

A man of principles. Mostly.

Dev once got genuinely mad at me because he thought I hadn't tipped a waiter enough. Then he grew up and started earning his own money. Let's just say I have occasionally observed a small gap between the tipping principles of young Dev and the tipping practices of salaried Dev. As his father, I consider it my responsibility to preserve the historical record.

He was equally efficient with driving, getting a speeding ticket on the first or second day after receiving his license. Most people learn to drive before collecting tickets. Dev preferred to combine the courses. His remarkable luck is that when he contests them, the police officer somehow has a habit of not showing up.

Finding each other again

More recently, we finally sat down and really talked. This time I wasn't trying to explain the father I had been or prove that my intentions were good. I listened, and more importantly, I meant everything we spoke about.

There is a new-found love and respect between us, although perhaps new-found isn't quite right. The love wasn't new. It had been sitting there all along, underneath the distance.

We don't speak every day, and we don't need to. But there is fun, affection and an ease between us now that I cherish. Perhaps I am finally learning that my job isn't to draw her road. It is to be there while she draws her own.

Raagini has given us many reasons to be thankful ever since.

The future billionaire

I have a feeling Dev could do very well in business one day. He has the analytical ability, discipline and, perhaps most importantly, ideas. Including one particularly important contribution to humanity: protein beer.

The concept is brilliant in its simplicity. Why should beer give you a belly when it could give you muscles? Drink beer. Build biceps. I don't know whether science has been adequately consulted. I am reasonably certain the target market has.

The little Dev

For now, Rimpy and I are fortunate that he still lives with us. I know that won't last forever. But I enjoy having him around more than I probably tell him.

I have also loved the trips that were just Dev and me. Poland, Brazil, Costa Rica, Nicaragua and others. I have travelled to many places, but there is something different about travelling with your son. The country gives you the journey. Your son gives you the memories.

There is one secret wish I have. I would like to see him without the beard and moustache. Just once. I love the man he has become, but every once in a while when I look at that beard, I miss my little Dev.

Perhaps that is one of the strange privileges of being a parent. Everyone else gets to see the man standing in front of them. You still get to see the little boy inside him.

Watercolor collage centered on little Dev, surrounded by hints of travel, fitness and the adult life ahead

Raagini

Keep exploring. Keep finding your own way. And somewhere in between, pick up Dad's phone. He may have some TEA to discuss.

Dev

Keep hugging your bhais. Build the protein beer. Tip well. Speed up in life. Drive within the posted limit.

They could hardly be more different, and perhaps that has been one of the great joys of watching them grow. We worried about them, laughed with them, occasionally got things wrong, and watched them become people we could never have designed ourselves.

Which, I am beginning to understand, was never our job anyway.

They grew up. So did their Dad.