My Father

I walked into a card shop the other day and felt a sudden sinking feeling. Father's day was upon me again and the knowing that I couldn't buy anything for you.I can only hope  that this message reaches you even as the faintest of whispers.To the world a very normal person with a normal job, a normal middle class life but to us the epicentre of our very being.The strapping yet vulnerable young man, the dignified executive with the greying temples,forever a man of few words.
My ode to you dad, my hero, my inspiration, my appa.
Born the eldest in a family of five to a tamil pandit father in vellore, his early life had little room for any luxuries.But that driving ambition to achieve took him places far removed from his humble surroundings. He finished university with honours and took on the responsibilities of the family as early as that and then amma happened. Brought together in holy arranged matrimony his union with amma had none of the usual trappings. No stolen glances, no fervent proclamations of love,no sweet-
nothings but boy was there magic.I grew up with your love story all around me so don't blame me for being the die hard romantic I am.The way you both argued all the time and then made up in the blink of an eye, the way amma's eyes well up when she talks about your humble past, the way you patiently humored her while she shopped for hours on end - none of my best loved M&B romances have come close to capturing any of that.
Being the eldest with a sister and a brother soon after, there have been so many days when I have regretted being the eldest. First one to make all the mistakes, first to step out into the big bad world and why forever this constant sense of responsibility and protectiveness I feel for my siblings so much so I have been accused of interfering too much. But the one thing I will never regret is having those extra years of knowing you and having you to myself.
For all our materialism its always the little things we remember.The little things, the way you gently patted my hand when I was troubled,the way you said your name when I phoned, the way you insisted on buying just that bit more for us on our weekend trips,the way you used to drag me out of bed when I fell asleep skipping dinner, that unique aftershave that was just you.
Amma often accuses that I love you more. Dear dear amma we challenge each other constantly,we argue like crazy, you drive me to lunacy sometimes but not a single day is complete
without our quick catch ups and packing in an hour's worth of information in 10  minutes,my confidante, my guru, my friend. Of course I love you both equally just differently. Can one ever choose between the searing warmth of the first summer sun and the blessed relief of the first monsoon showers? For that matter can any girl describe what she feels for her father? Every other man is measured against you and found wanting.....
Growing up in suburban chennai in the repressed age I did, I have never been comfortable with displaying affection of any sorts but I have never kicked myself over it it as much as I do now. Did I ever tell you how much you meant to me, did I hug you enough or at least thank you enough?
Why did it have to be you and not some nameless face? Why did your own cells turn against you when you hardly ever hurt a fly? That gut wrenching almost physical pain I felt when you went has all but packed up and gone and left in its wake only a dull persistent ache that I can often set aside. As the cliche goes, time does heal most wounds but do I feel guilty about it, yes, everyday. People often reiterate to me that age old Hindu belief that when loved ones pass over they never go far and are
reborn  as a niece,a son or a daughter.But no that hardly provides any comfort,a thousand times over and I still want you only as my father.
Do I thank that almighty for all those days we shared or curse him for all those lost moments you should have had - your proud face at your son's wedding, growing old with amma,seeing more of your grandchildren and so many many more. I choose to do neither and take fickle solace only in fatalism (sorry i get that from amma) - it was meant to be.Some stars are meant to shine only for a short time but leave an afterglow so profound that it lasts a lifetime and more.