One of my earliest memories from my childhood is Appa reading out aloud to me and my sister. He would usually read from one of the numerous books he bought for us – usually Children's books originally in Russian translated into English or mythological books. He would sit on a chair. Madhu (my sister) would sit on the floor and I would sit on the arm rest, cuddling up to Appa.
And I hated it!
My sister would look up to Appa, engrossed in his narration. And I would have finished reading the page and would be impatiently waiting for Appa to turn the page. Appa however wouldn’t be hurried into anything (another trait I seem to have caught from him - I have to do things at my own pace - I will not be hurried/slowed down!) and he would read out aloud, pausing at every comma and full stop and stressing at significant places. His intonation of speech was amazing. In short, a lesson in prosody.
However, I never had the patience to appreciate any of it! After reading the current page, I did start fidgeting; I already knew what was in the page and wanted to know what was on the next. Madhu however would hang onto each word of his and would listen in rapt attention.
Appa soon realized that it was not my obsessive love for him that made me sit so close to him. And he hated the fact that I was sneakily peeking into the book. He made me sit on the floor from then on, but it was never the same again. Soon he stopped doing the read-out-aloud sessions and I went back to reading on my own.
But Madhu missed those sessions and so did Appa. I think it hurt Appa more than anything else.
Appa still tries to read out to me, from the Business line or one of his published papers. And I still fidget!!
Amma never took a picture of this, but I have gotten it in my head. I just need to close my eyes and remember.

PS: How I wish I had the sense to sit back and enjoy back then. I still can't do that!!