The way my Dad fusses over me

19th June 2016

Well someone recently said a statement, which had a few words in it like “The way your dad fusses over you…” – and I interrupted them right then and there and diverted the topic to other avenues. I didn’t want to defend my dad’s behavior or want someone judging him. I didn’t expect anyone to understand it. I can’t expect anyone else to even feel 1% of the love my dad feels for me. Nor anyone can.

I just delivered 2 babies, together, 4 months ago. Before delivery and after delivery I was fortunate to live some days with dad and mom together, after marriage (8 long years) and then some few days with dad, after mom left for the long ashram stint. And you know what, it felt wonderful to be cared for (for a change).

Papa probably never realized as I continued being my old rotten self with him, as usual (I have a problem expressing love to people especially very close to me). But every time he asked me what I wanted, what I desired and went to places to get stuff, just for me – it welled me up. If he even got a hint that there was this one thing I liked, he made sure the stock was never over in the house. Eg. I had to have protein powder in milk that tasted really bad and he made sure that there were strawberries in the fridge always to help me love the milk.  Simple things like that. Who does that for anyone, nowadays? Certainly no one had done that for me in a long long time.

Sometimes and maybe nearly always as a woman in this country, especially after marriage you’re expected to be the primary caregiver. To elders and youngsters alike. You learn through a series of experiences that small little delights of life that you savoured you’ll need to provide for yourself or give up cause no one will go out of the way for you. No one will. Even if you ask for it, mostly you’ll hear it’s out of their way. So why ask for it? – Do I sound cynical?

It’ll be extremely rare if someone is even considerate enough to look at you from the perspective of a living being, who could need love, understanding and pampering too. And when a someone sees, just their empathy will be enough. As they’ll understand you from a look of ‘being there’ themselves and maybe disburse a few sentences of advice to deal with the world, very precious sentences, sometimes.

No one will put you before himself. No one will invest their life’s savings to give you security. No one will sacrifice his own joys for yours. No one will save the best for you. No one will do things outside his comfort zone to give relief to the tired you. No one will try do without important things for himself to indulge in luxuries for you. No one will be there, really be there in a way of standing there beside you and holding you when you’re going weak. Except Papa.

Thank you Papa for making tea in my house for my guests when I had too much too handle (I know you’ve never done that for anyone before). Thank you Papa for the strawberries, the protein rossogolas, the wheat crakers and other little things you got for me to eat, when I was allowed very few things.  Thank you Papa for coming to Gurgaon in my last few pregnancy days so that there’s someone to drive me to the hospital, if need be. Thank you Papa for leaving your work and running to hold my babies when they cried, every single time. Thank you Papa for thinking about me. Thank you Papa for doing everything you can to make me happy. Thank you Papa for finding happiness in my happiness. Thank you, Papa for things I never thanked you for or ever will.

I love you and thank my stars for showing me this kinda love in my lifetime.

And I respect you all the more, cause despite all you’ve done for me you’ve never told me, “See, this is what I’ve done for you”. You’ve never expected a ‘Thank You’. You’ve never expected anything in fact.

Nor have I ever done anything.

I will probably never even show you this post. I'm that bad. 

1 comment:

Saurav Keyal said...

I will show it to dad