Dad

This seems to be a season of talking about family :-)

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I and my dad constantly bicker. Over everything. Over the laptop, over the last peanut in the packet, over the ‘mess’ in my room, over his lack of ‘cool’ clothes, over his 35 km/h driving, over the best place on the couch. Everything.

Dad clogs up the laptop with guzillion web browsers talking about the latest political scandal rocking the old country in three languages (English, Hindi, Telugu).

Dad belongs to the generation that considers work as the essence of life. Well, ethics too. And also, honour. And integrity. And..well, nevermind, let me get on.

Dad can be as quiet as a cat when he wishes to sneak up to you and catch your greedy hand in the ice-cream tub. He reserves all his clumsiness, breaking unbreakable plates, banging into furniture for the wee hours of the morning. Even his morning Yoga exercises cause weird noises that awaken the stray cats in our building.

Dad gives 200% to anything that he decides to do. Seva, yoga, friendship, piety, learning, anything.

He has a remarkable ability to fall asleep whenever and wherever he wills – during a dinner party, in the cinema, on the couch while reading India Today, when … well you get the idea. He also has a remarkable ability to wake up at the slightest sounds. Like, a leaf falling outside the window, a wailing baby on the 30^th floor two streets from ours, etc. Due to such reasons as these, it is perfectly impossible for me to conduct midnight raids on Mom’s kitchen.

Dad is the most disciplined man 1 degree north of the Equator. A time for everything, everything on time.

My dad can be vain. Eight years ago, the green grocer who set up shop beneath our flats became really pal-ly with my mom & dad. One fine day, all three of us were taking a stroll and decided to kill a second bird by getting some greens as well. Seeing me for the first time (as I never help with vegetable shopping) the lady green grocer enquired whether I was my dad’s sister. This was about eight years ago. We still frequently are regaled with this incident.

Dad lived a hard life. He made some very hard choices in life.

Dad belongs to the minority sex at home. With two daughters and a wife, you would think that he doesn’t get his two cents worth in. But you’ll be surprised. If there exists a feud between Mom and him, I and akka jump to his defense, if the feud’s between me and him, Mom rises to the occasion, if the feud’s between my sis and him ..wait a minute, them two are thick as thieves (their last feud was when she was ten). So, being a minority is mighty advantageous.

Dad never lies. I have never, ever, ever heard him lie. Period.

Dad drives me up the wall every time I wear a twenty year old dress (that fits) and he is seized with this gentlemanly urge to compliment me (usually if he wants me to be his steno and prettify his official documents) and says, “Nice new dress”. He also makes me bang my head against the wall when I ask him for feedback about my hair-do:
Me : “Dad is this hair-do (a) Awesome (b) Really Awesome (c) Stupendously Awesome”
Dad : “(d) Nice”.

And, we have been doing this ever since I was in first grade. Neither of us ever learns.

Dad never hit me, ever. Even if I spilled milk, broke the family china, did additions and subtractions the wrong way, lost jewelry, hit akka, destroyed his money plant.

Dad helps people. Three years ago when I went to his village, I was visiting people who lived in a small house beside his childhood home. The people welcomed me into their home, made me sit on the only chair in the house, cut a chicken, stuffed me with food and while leaving, the old grandmother of the house clutched me and wept like a baby, blessing my dad and calling him her family God.
Will I measure up to this person?