Down memory lane...

I have thought a number of times to write about my dad but I hesitated every time since it is difficult to write about your father without being too sentimental, nostalgic etc. etc. But here we go.


My earliest memory is that of me waiting by the roadside waiting for him to arrive from office, which was at a stone’s throw away distance from our one room apartment at Gau khera in Kanpur. Later the setting changed to HAL Township. I distinctly recall running to open the gate when he used to come back from work. My sister and I used to fight as to who would open the gate. Many a times, we would try to catch him outside the gate which invariably meant that he would have to take us out for a scooter ride on his green LML scooter. My sister would stand in front and I would sit on the back seat and the pleasure was to wave at our friends as we circled the entire Township. Sometimes, my friends also would be taken for the ride.

The second memory is that of us travelling together. My father loves travelling and I have inherited this love from him. Though we always stayed at ‘not-so-nice’ hotels, we tried to travel almost every year. By the time I was in my teens, we had covered the important and usual destinations of Northern India. And then who can forget the trip to the southern part of the country, right till Kanya Kumari. It was a group tour, with many of my father's friends and their families accompanying us. It was an amazing time with most of my friends travelling in the same bus. We slept at non-decrepit hotels, travelled in non-AC buses almost the entire day, stopping only for food or to see an important destination...overall an incredible journey. More on this later…

Funny, I can’t remember him ever being very stern or strict. Yes, there were certain things which were totally unacceptable. But a look or rather just an uncomfortable silence would be enough to ensure that I would be ready to tremble. Once I recall, I had done something atrocious and decided to write a letter to him thinking that this way I would be able to escape the dreaded dialog. Quite off the mark! The conversation did happen and thanks to the ill-fated letter, with even more drumming.

Of course, the relationship changed over the years as I grew up. We had our fair bit of door banging, not having dinner and not talking (read sulking) to revolt. After so many years, I don’t quite recall what the matter was but once when I was in college, I didn’t talk to him for more than two months. Also had the usual fights about wanting to go for dance parties and he never giving permission to do so.

Another important memory is that of having heated post dinner discussions about the latest political event. Mandal commission was a hot topic with my dad and me most of the time taking diametrically opposite views. Many hours were spent trying to convince each other of  My father was a union leader in the beginning of his career and usually had a very strong anti-establishment viewpoint.

It is from him that I have inherited this belief that we are sole writers of our destiny and nobody can deny us our due just because we belong to the fairer sex. I also discovered the hard way, that this is not what the world generally believes in. Even today, though he is disheartened by the turn of events of the last three years, he remains steadfast in his support to me and my daughter.

Thank you for always being there papa...:-)