About his father

A Father-Son Bond Beyond Words About 

Father-son relationships are truly special, each one filled with countless untold stories. Today, I want to share a side of my father that many may not know. There's a saying, "Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime." My father did exactly that for me. He didn’t just teach me physics during my B.Sc. days—he taught me how to be a teacher, how to approach life with clarity, and how to find joy in the little things.

One of our strongest bonds has been our shared love for movies. From watching Yodha at Shiny Theatre, Cherthala, to the recent Vettaiyan at EVM Studio, we’ve seen countless films together. These outings weren’t just about the movies—they were about the moments we spent together. They gave me a sense of connection and relaxation, something I now carry into my lectures. Often, I find myself referencing movie scenes to explain concepts, a skill I owe to the countless hours we spent in theaters.

We’ve had some unforgettable adventures—like the time we watched Manichitrathazhu at Kavitha Theatre, Alappuzha, where I jumped over people to grab tickets for the first-day-first-show. Or when we visited Veeriah Theatre in Alappuzha to watch Thenmavin Kombath. That theater, with its incredible sound and picture quality, was the pride of the area, running movies for over 365 days. It’s heartbreaking to see it abandoned now, but the memories we made there are still vivid.

The first computer he brought home? We didn’t use it for programming—we watched Jackie Chan’s Rush Hour. And I still smile when I think of the time we watched Alaipayuthey together after class, with the Head of the Physics Department, on our way back home.

My father has always taught me to value experiences over material things, and our movie trips are a testament to that. Even a simple bike ride to Alappuzha for a film felt meaningful because of the time we spent together. (And yes, I should mention the masala dosa and cutlet we ate at Indian Coffee House on every visit. We used to joke that if we had saved all the money spent on movies and snacks, we could have bought a house in Trivandrum! But since we didn’t save, I’ve decided to make the most of those memories and keep traveling back home whenever I can.)

To those who know him, he’s more than just my father. Probably Alex, my B.Sc. classmate, knows a little of who Solomon Sir is. Alex has seen this side of him but still couldn’t sit in front of my father at home—he’d automatically stand up out of respect. Many still find it hard to sit casually in front of him. Back in those days, a teacher was mass—they commanded respect and awe. For me, he’s always been my mentor, my best friend, and someone I’ve deeply admired. Alex might have more to add when he sees this post.

Today, on his birthday, I celebrate not just him but the bond we share. While our relationship reminds me more of the father-son connection in Manassinakkare than the iconic dynamic of Thilakan and Mohanlal in Narasimham, it’s a bond that goes beyond words. It’s a story of love, respect, and shared memories that I carry with me every single day.

Happy Birthday, Papa Solo. Here’s to more journeys, more movies, and more memories together.

With love,

Your son,

Sibi K S