A few months back, I was sought for interviews by a number of major international publications such as the Wall Street Journal, Financial Times, Forbes and the like. When the quotes from these interviews were published, my father religiously collected each one of all the articles and took them home and maintained a copy. When I told him that this may happen quite often, he said to me: “My name has never been published in a newspaper. I don’t want to miss out on your fame at least.”

I brushed it off thinking it amateurish at the time. Last month, when I was flying out of the city to someplace, I happened to look down from the plane’s window, and spotted something that my father has been involved with, in the past. That something is a pagoda constructed for meditation, the sponsors of which are looking to get it qualified as the world’s eighth wonder. The structure is the largest stone dome made out of interlocking large blocks of stone with a diameter of 90 meters and a height at the center of 91 meters. When I showed it to a colleague of mine traveling with me, he was awestruck and wanted to visit the place. It was only when I told my friends about the pagoda describing my father’s contribution to it and saw their reactions, I realized what my father must have felt about the newspaper articles mentioning me.

It may not be a big deal a few years down the line that neither me nor my father will be remembered for our work. But thinking of the pagoda sure makes me want to do more, not for me, but for my father.