The ‘un-pampered’ daddy’s girl
By: Sharada Balasubramanian
Tags: Daughters, Memories, Dad, Fatherhood, Childhood Memories

It’s exactly 13 years since I lost my father. Today. But he lives inside me. In everything I do, in every decision I take. I wanted to write this without dropping a shed of tear. And here I am doing that now.

So, when I hear many of my women friends talking about how the men in their families, especially, fathers pamper them- like, do every little thing for them, the case was different for me.

I will take you back to the time when I was 12. We were living in Bombay. After many long years in Salem.

He called me out- Hey Sharada, come here.

What is it? I say in my low voice.

Here, take this cheque and go to the bank and deposit it.

But I don’t know how to do it.

He chided. You have a mouth, you can ask people if you don’t know. Just go, ask people and get this done.

I get up, hesitatingly and walk to the bank. It was right across the road.

I asked people. I did the task.

I was glad my Appa was not the pampering kind, the overprotective kind who’d do everything for the daughter- rather he made me do things so that, when he is not around- I’d be able to do everything on my own.

Books

I was in Class 3 when Appa introduced books to me. When I was in college, I used to tell him, I’d do part time job so that I could buy more books. Why do you need money, he asked. He’d pay me Rs 100 a month. That was my quota. But when Strand Book Fest happened, he’d happily thrust Rs 500 in my hand and tell me- if you need more I will give.

He encouraged me to solving crossword puzzles. I was in Class 7. He took out this Sunday Crossword page in Times and asked me to do it. We both would be discussing words. And he said- use a dictionary if you want. My brother would laugh at me- you are using a dictionary to solve crossword.

Moments

I remember the first day of college too. I had to go all the way from Malad to Churchgate in the local train. Thirty odd kilometres. He came with me, not to drop me, but because he had to pass by my college to get to the bank. We traveled together- and then he said- see that’s your college- now go, and from tomorrow, you are on your own. That’s it- no emotional drama, nothing. He never looked back.

Over the years, he never praised me on my face- perhaps he never wanted me to have any sort of headweight with all those laurels from him. And that has kept me grounded. But I remember once Appa’s colleague told me- he was telling me Sharada, that you paint really well.

Okay, so he does notice things.

While in college, I had participated in the National Economic Convention. I won prize too, that year, as a team- our college won. I held a shield in my hand, walked back, and to my surprise, he was waiting for me at the station. He casually looked at the shield, and said nothing.

No, he was not this calluous person. The hard shelled kinds. Pampering would never help when his objective was to make me walk on my own.

He did not follow the conventional mores that were defined by the caste strata. (you are a brahmin, and hence you should do this kind). Rather, growing up with meat eating friends, living a year in Pakistan, and then Lucknow and Kerala, his mind was broadened beyond these casteist, religious boundaries. He also ate meat, and quite enjoyed it, and no one raised a hue or cry about it.

Trust

While pursuing my Masters, I remember the times when I was very drained. I was preparing for my GRE at the same time, to do my Phd in Economics (which has not happened yet). And one day, my friend Anupam Shobhakar (a sarod artist) was performing. I wanted to go. I sidelined my father, and told him- Listen appa, I am drained, I want a break from books and studying. I will be home late, but my school mates will drop me, don’t worry. Go, he said.

My brother frowned- how can you let her go like this.

That night I returned at around 12. My brother was frantically walking up and down the house. And my father was sleeping peacefully. In his half sleep, he said- she told she would be late- so I was not worried. That’s trust.

Every year, we would travel from Bombay to Madras, to visit my grandparents. I refrained from entering the general compartment of the local train- I preferred the ladies coach. While we were at the local station, I told my appa, I’d see him at Churchgate.

I missed a few local trains due to crowd, but my parents went ahead. When I reached the local station, I could not find them. No, I did not panic.

I waited for a few minutes- I knew which train we would be going in, so I’d find them. And hey, this wasn’t the mobile phone era. I had 20 Rs. I took a taxi and told the taxi driver- bhaiyya, VT station le chalo. I knew it would only cost that much. Again, this comes from roaming around in Bombay extensively, he made me go around.

I got off the VT station only to see my father and mother get off another taxi.

My mom- needless to say was in panic mode- but Appa was cool. I knew she would come- why bother he told amma. And the worst would be canceling the train and not going. I know her, he said. She is capable.

Well, that was it. The immense trust he had in his own upbringing. He trusted me in his tough moments too. I was his strength.

There’s nothing wrong in going to pubs, or neither is going to temple mandatory- he said once.

Wherever you get work, go- manage your own finances.

The traveler in me; its actually him.

And he also gave me some practical advice- while you walk alone- when there is a parked vehicle around you, walk farther away from it. And I follow that even today.

Growing up with him, I heard both Illayaraja and Mohd Rafi. He introduced me to watching movies. He was a movie buff.

We, sure, were caught in a sort of blitzkreig- many a times- a war like situation, but then, we’d get back- he was extremely short tempered, but he’d never hesitate to say sorry.

I could never tread on a path he did not approve of- out of respect for him, more than fear. He’d never approve of the fact that I will bring a guy along. So, I consciously refrained from getting into this love and crap. I was a happy soul without this relationship burden.

After umpteen attempts to find a match for me, he said- you don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. And then- if you like someone, you can come and tell me. I will try I said. I did register myself on those stupid matrimonial sites, but in a month of conversation, I lost him. And then I deleted all those things- and got to my serious journalism and writing. But, our relationship was one with no regrets.

He was a giver. While his rural tenure in Salem and Sulur, he helped farmers get agriculture loans. He went out of the way to help everyone around him.

He taught me how being punctual was important.

Never lie. And always follow the rules.

I can take anger, fights, but not lie.

Every moment of life, be happy. When I am sad, I think of my father’s word.

You are the cause of your own troubles. Whenever I get into thinking- why someone did something, I go back to this line from him.

Think of the worst that can happen in any situation- nothing worse can happen than that. When, in dire situations, I mentally prep for the worst, yet to my own twist, I also edge up that positivity.

People never really go away from your lives. Like the Buddha says. They live inside you through their life teachings and what not. I believe in this. My father, is who I am. :)