Daddah

The first word I spoke was not 'Mamma' I am told. It was 'Papa'. I slept on his chest; listening to his heartbeats I am told. Today, his heart skips a beat or two. He gave me immense gifts...1

He made sure I went to a convent to complete high school. He slogged year after year, scrimping and saving to ensure I studied in the best of the schools there was at that point of time. I lived in an environment I could not afford and I learnt to stand on my own two feet and make my place in a school that had the richest of kids educating themselves. The fact that I could make my own identity there at the age did not come from the school. It came from him. They only polished it for me at school. He made sure I held on to my pride of who I was. I managed that because I became a teacher at thirteen, not because I was confident I could teach but because he told me age had nothing to do with education. What a fine education that was! I wasn't the easiest child and I missed him like crazy every single day I lived in the boarding school. I think it wasn't I who was brave. He was. He loved me, and he let me go, to find myself and to recognise my inner self, of the possibilities that life will bring my way, the falls I will have but arise from because he taught me never to stay down forever. A self-made man, I became self-made too. When I was good and ready, I could rise. Anytime.2

He sat behind me and I rode my first bike. He taught me how to. The courage was in getting the two feet off the ground and moving, depending entirely on a machine I did not understand. He taught me how to understand it. He made me dare. Everything my mother would object to as impossible because I was a girl, he let me do it. He let me climb trees, join the Navy, play basketball, change circumstances to suit my own, hold a gun in my hand and not miss a beat, use a knife when I had to, stand up and apologise when I was wrong, admit a mistake if I was at fault, drive alone on the highway, to hang in there when all seemed over. Do one thing every day that scares you. He taught me that. He taught me how to manage my fears. I dared, all the time, for little things, for big things. I dare. Still.3

I may have learnt so much of having a never-give-up attitude from books and peers and everything around me, but never as much as Papa. He would never let me look at any shortcoming as a failure. Everything was a lesson, to learn, to repeat until learnt. I saw possibilities where none seemed present. There are always possibilities. He made sure I learnt to be answerable to myself. Where I would be yelled at and compared to other classmates he made sure my competition was with myself. If I did even a millimetre better than my previous effort it was a winner.4

He never turned anyone away. No matter how difficult it got for him at times, no matter how many times he got cheated...it was something that annoyed my mother a lot and it annoyed us a lot of times. Today, when I look back, I feel, somehow it was the right thing to do for him. He always felt one needed to do something for at least one person in a day which one is not obliged to do but does it out of his own free will. He is a kind man at heart. I see it in his eyes even today. Brown, light and yet deep. 5

One quality that is hard to come by. He was patient. I learnt that from him. Patience is a rare commodity and he was full of it. I think he passed it all to me (grin) (all?)(hmmm)...no wonder the fuse is shorter now...our family swore by his patience. Now we only remind him. I think he exhausted it somewhere when we weren't paying attention. 6

Tons and tons of utterly delightful retorts. He is a pleasure to be with. I looked forward to dinner all the time, the one meal, especially when I got to college...he would keep us in splits. My friends came home and stayed to eat meals just because he made them such a time of joy. Mamma would always say 'Stop laughing, you will choke' and all we could do was crack up. We still crack up. The frequency of a meal together is rare but they still are just as joyous. He makes cracks about anything...totally defuses disasters with his wit. The theory was that it’s a wasted day if we have not laughed. No wonder I laugh loudly. My friends keep telling me '...Sandy...control...control...' and I can still only laugh on and on. I am glad I learnt to laugh at myself. 7

To stand and not give up on someone you love...I learnt that from him. There is so much hope he gives me. He loves Mamma so much...they fell in love when he was twelve...he has been in love with Mamma for the past forty five years! Oh to be in love like that! They miss each other if they are apart for more than two days. If it doesn’t hurt in your heart, it isn’t love...that has been his philosophy. If Mamma was hurt, he would be hurt too. He would (and I resented that) always insist I say sorry to Mamma even when he knew I was right and she was wrong. I asked him one day, why was he being unfair. He told me ' I promised your mother, I'll always stand by her. She is my wife. She will always come first.' I did not understand then. I understand it completely today.8

Nobody is perfect. Perfection is in the head. All I know is that I've had my share of tiffs with him too...but he has stood my decisions. That matters to me. It matters to me that he lets me be who I am. I am who I am because he believed I could be whatever I wished to be. I have a stubborn but rational mind, like him. Patience...umm...not all the time but when I look around, I know, I have ounces and ounces of it - love and the blindness that comes with being in love, loyalty that overrides all reason...I could go on...and did I forget to mention the Taurean temper?9

All I know is that I would not want to change a single thing about him, no matter what. 10

I am my father's child...right from the day I was born. I intend to keep it that way.11