Adieu Daddy

I am only one among millions of people who think that their father is beyond compare in the whole wide world. The large number of cards in the market dedicated to ‘The Best Dad in the World’ is a trifle paradoxical but certainly not surprising considering that the father-child relationship is probably the daddy of all relationships.
My father has been the strongest influence in my life — a loving parent, a patient mentor and a great friend, all rolled into one. My fingers in his hands, I took the first shaky steps of my life. As a little girl I thought he had all the answers.
Definitely not a born story teller, Dad’s attempts at lullabying the kids to sleep used to invariably misfire and we would find him dozing off much before his deep voice could work its magic onus. Doting kids that we were, my sister and I never held this against him. At least he tried.
Dad has always been a source of unconditional love to me. Even at times when I felt I had not done him proud or in fact had let him down, I felt secure in the knowledge that my grades in school or my performance in competitions was not the yardstick of his love for me.
Always present like a guiding star when I lost direction, Dad wanted my dreams to be just that — my dreams. There were no high expectations to be lived up to, just that he wanted me to be a good human being more than he wanted me to become a doctor or an engineer or a journalist. We were left to make our own choices and decisions in life.
Thank you Dad for the wonderful gift of a fresh and untainted canvas of life, and with it the freedom and encouragement to paint as I liked. The strokes were not always pretty but I had the satisfaction of taking credit for every right move. Sure I made mistakes, but they were mine.
If there is one thing Dad hates more than seeing money being wasted, it is some people’s tendency to hoard their funds. He is a lavish spender and knows how to enjoy life to the fullest. It is from him that I have learnt the ropes of the art that living is. Never confused about his priorities in life, he is blessed with the remarkable ability of putting things in their proper perspective at all times.
Few things are more painful for him than having to sell an old car. Dad unabashedly went back on his promise to turn out The Old Lady as we call our ancient Fiat on the arrival of our gleaming new Esteem. The expressions that cross his face when his cars are manhandled are highly comical. Our first and last chauffeur left in disgust when he found himself getting driving lessons instead of being given a chance to show his expertise behind the wheel.
Despite the powerful influence Dad had in moulding my personality, l am not a chip off the old block. In fact, we are as different as two people can - possibly be and I often find myself engaged in a battle of wills with him. Winning against him would have been downright impossible had he not taught me to stand up to him in the first place.
And now it is time to leave the nest. Goodbyes are never easy but the fact that I shall be leaving India shortly to join my husband in the States makes the task doubly painful for me.
The umpteen games of Scrabble that we played on lazy weekends, the long drives that we went on, the “Patiyala” cup of tea that is Dad’s speciality (and his only claim to culinary expertise) and the never-ending discussions on everything in general and nothing in particular. The list is endless. I am going to miss all this. But most of all, Daddy, I will miss you.