Dear dad,on Father's Day

Dearest papa,

I know this letter comes as a surprise to you, it’s my first. It would be the easiest thing for me to come meet you or speak on the phone. But, I know I will choke on words that will get in the way.

We have never really had dad-kid talks, you and I, we always communicated via mom.

Today, as my toddler and teen sit down scribbling a Father’s day card for theirs, I realize I never ever made the effort to tell you anything. We seemed to always say it best by saying nothing at all to each other.

While mom was omnipresent through the growing years, you were a Sunday papa.

You never attended any sports day or annual function or elocution contests which we participated in, you were busy, slogging to make sure that we went to the best school, read the best books meant for our age, swam in the best pool in town and received the best coaching when it came to dance and sports.

You don’t feature in any of our birthday pics, even the ones that have distant relatives; it’s only now that I realize you were the one clicking them.

I know for a fact that grand dad and you looked in opposite directions, you never had a chance to live your childhood, but you ensured we had ours. I find it easy to choose the right reads and toys for my children because, irrelevant to the monthly budget, as soon as Scrabble, Monopoly, Rubik’s cube or the latest editions of Amar Chitra Katha, Enid Blyton and Asterix hit the market stands, you made certain they found place in our home.

Although you spent years eating at canteens, we relished fine dining and developed taste buds to appreciate cuisine from around the world. From five star restaurants to hole in the wall joints that Busy bee later recommended too, you always knew the hotspots of food around town. I remember how you hired one of the then best chef’s in town for a day for our introduction to authentic Chinese cuisine; from entrée to dessert. I remember turning my nose up at it then and how much I savour it now. Way back in the 70’s Tabasco’s zing, Choux pastry and Wasabi were not alien words for us.

I teach my toddler phonics, alphabets and his first words from ‘My First Golden Dictionary’ which you bought when I was 4, it is still the best available even now, when I am 40.As I protectively commute with my teenager everywhere, I remember how you taught us to travel independently via air or railways, in a safer world .

In spite of being extremely possessive about your cars, you generously let your vintage Austin be converted into our school taxi, so that we could commute safely and in style. We always strutted in trendy stuff from head to toe even though kid’s fashion wasn’t a term used in India.

I remember you returning from business tours around the world, carrying cultural curios so that we could learn a little more about the countries .I remember you gently but firmly coaxing us to lend a ear to classical music along side renditions of Khusrau and Boney M so that we refined our taste in fine tuning. I remember watching The Sound of Music when it was not locally available. How you made it mandatory that we met Mumbai’s finest theatre artists and painters par excellence and watched them in action.

As I stress over the future of my kids, worrying about their education, friends, gizmos, habits, I realize how easily ma and you handled the three of us, never once letting us feel the worldly pressures you must have had. My own impatience makes me now rationalize your occasional angry outbursts.

With all our individual success in a life that you allowed us to choose for ourselves, we might not have been the best kids, but, just by being yourself, you are the greatest dad in the world.

When I see you clown around with your grand children today, I see, given a chance, what great buddies we could have been. I love you dad, I always did.

A huge hug,
Your rebel without a cause.