To The Man With Big Strong Arms

To The Man With Big Strong Arms

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I was tiny, squeaky and barely walking. A shriek and splash, I fell into the muddy field, among paddy plants as tall as me. Big strong arms scooped me out of the mess.

That is the first memory I have of my dad. It is also the only memory I have of  my days in Mapao Khullen.

Today I want to write about this man with strong arms. And with it as you read, I wish you to relive your days with your own dad too.

Father's Day 2015: family photo
The most recent photo this 2015- almost Vintage. no?

This Sunday (father’s day) morning, I called up my dad. He picked up and whispered into the phone that he was still in the church. And it is this little gestures of cuteness that always brings back a smile to my face.

Every time I talk to my dad over the phone, I remember Shakespeare’s 7 Ages Of Man. It reminds me of how my dad has turned from being the one who looked after us, to someone who needs to be looked after.

Father's Day 2015: Blog post: The Seven Ages  Of man

After an unfortunate stroke attack last year, followed by more mild ones, my dad has become almost like a kid now. A little too soon I will say. The good in it is, he is happy for almost anything. He will say yes to everything we tell him, but end up doing just 10% of it. He cannot recollect where he kept his phone, at times he even forget that he has one. Sometimes he would call me up and tell me about how he stumbled and skinned his knee. Other days it would just be a call to say ‘hi’.

Sometimes my dad says the most absurd of things and gives me a completely conventional headstrong ‘opinion’. I am sure, this way, he has annoyed a lot of people too. (My apologies on behalf of him).

We constantly worry about him because he doesn’t watch the road while crossing it. He has been run over by a bike once too. Yet, he still argues he is perfectly fine. Sometimes we worry he wouldn’t be able to find his way home. So, if you see him in town looking lost, do give me a call. (smiles)

My dad loves Muskmelon. He wouldn’t mind eating that instead of our scrumptious meals. So, if any of you plan on asking my or my sisters hand, you know where to start! (Yes!)

My dad isn’t one with many words. He is probably one of the most stubborn person I know, sometimes impossible. My dad doesn’t own a fancy car or live in a fancy house. He doesn’t even bother to wear suits. He thinks that shoes with laces are outdated. He is more comfortable wearing his shirt out than tuck it in neatly.

My dad wanted a smartphone, now he is having trouble operating his phone. Like most of the dads, he is also very fond of calling at odd hours, leaving dozens of missed calls till the call is received.

He thinks he should never keep his shirt pockets penniless so he always has some dough in every pocket. While I was in school and I’d visit him, I knew exactly where to look for when I needed money. (Just being smart. Haha)

Father's Day 2015: Blog post:
Way back 2012, India Gate at night. I forced him to peace out. Haha

My dad’s favor has always been a bone of contention between me and my younger sister. She accuses him of favoring me because every time I cook, my dad says it’s the most delicious food (even though the rest of the family has something else to say). And each time she (younger sister) cooks, she says, he never compliments her. My dad is sweet to me that way.

My dad is cool, let me tell you why.

My parents came to visit us in Delhi way back 2013, that time when I had a half-shaved hairdo and a newly done tattoo. My dad totally loved my hair, even said ‘it’s cool’ when my mom gawked at me till the time she left Delhi. My dad is a religious man. His opinion sometimes comes off a little too conventional. He thinks that tattoos are devilish (Now imagine the lectures I got for getting my tattoo).

Apart from the tattoo debate, we have had our heated disagreements on some other issues too. Call, hang up. Call, ignore. Yes, that’s how bad our arguments get some days. But we know we have each other.

So today, I blog this for my dad although he will not read it (unless I fly home and force him to). This is to his sweetness, for the love I got from him all this time, for giving me all that he had, for always being supportive, for driving me nuts at times.

This is to my dad, for just being him.

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