Hey Mithi,
I call you "Gugush Pupush" these days ... doesn't mean anything ... or maybe it does ... I think it just expresses the feeling I get when I hug you and you stroke your nose and forehead on my shoulder or chest ... whatever it is ... its lovely to call you that ... and when you acknowledge it with a smile, it just becomes priceless.
I am enjoying every bit of being your father and secretly love the fact that the first syllables you have started blabbering are "Ba ba ba ba ...". However stupid it is, something wants me to believe that these are not meaningless random sounds that you find interesting to repeat throughout the day with a lot of zeal ... but that's you calling me "Baba". Now being the reason-based thinker I am (or claim to be), this shall remain in my closet till you or your mom reads this :-)
But this Fathers' Day, I wanted to share with you some of my memories of my father ... the man I called "Baba".
I selected this photo as this is the playful way he would have looked at you.
I don't know if I can ever convey to you how much he would have loved you and how much he was capable of loving, no words would really be able to explain his heart and his deep love for people he cared about. There is an expression in English "Loving someone to a fault" ... that was the only way he knew to love. The problem was ... he knew that and hence to prevent himself from committing that "fault" he would be extra harsh to the people he loved ... mostly to your Tham and me.
You can ask your Titlididi how and what she remembers of him ... as she is the one grand-daughter he could meet and play with before he missed you by less than a year. She used to call him Dolphin Dadu as he told her stories about the freshwater Dolphins that swim about and sometimes jump out of the water in the Ganga. The stories fascinated her so much that she started calling him Dolphin Dadu. She would be a teacher and he would be her student and would act stupid and slow and she would laugh at him and scold him for not understanding ... but he could spend hours with her and keep making her feel like the teacher she wanted to be without a single moment's miss.
Anyways it's Fathers' Day and I really wanted to write about him, but didn't want to post it anywhere, because if people read, they would probably praise me ... and I don't want that ... I just want to write about him because I miss him, especially because I cannot share my fatherhood with the man that taught me what a father should be like. Then I realized, I could write to you ... this can be our little secret.
You know I pride myself with my ability to observe and my thirst for knowledge ... and if I really look back, this whole concept of observation came from Baba.
He would show me the onset of winter by waking me up in the morning to see the fog outside.
He would make me watch movies and through the movie he would tell me what wowed him about a particular scene, and why. He would explain to me how the scene could have been made ... and I would be wowed too.
When I started learning music, I wasn't good with rhythm, and he made me do the beats alongside a Sarod recital by Ustaad Amjad Ali Khan for a full 90 minutes. That one day made me get Rhythm in my reflexes and I never got it wrong, as he promised. That's why I cherish the black blood clot on my thigh, and didnt have regrets.
He taught me swimming at the age of 2 and a half, in the Ganga without tubes and stuff ... and that's one thing I still do better than most although I was never athletic.
He showed me how to read a book and make excerpts and notes that made me learn and remember stuff, that made a wonderful ready-reckoner just before exams.
He would get us cousins together and when we asked him to tell stories, he would ask us to think of stories ... he would say here's what I am starting with. Now what do you think happened after this? And we would imagine the next bit of the story and we would create a story together and not even know.
I liked detective stories and didn't much care for the fairy tales ... and he had one ready whenever I asked for one. And he didn't lie to me when I asked - did you read this? He would always say - no I just made it up :-) And trust me no two stories would be similar.
He would always pose questions like "Where did we really come from?" "Is there a God?" etc and I would wonder and then read up and try to make up my opinion. He always had his opinion and didn't refrain from letting me know what it was ... but always allowed me to debate, and mostly argue with him. That made me research more.
I could go on for another 33 years (time that I had him for), but I would draw the line here. Through you I wish to tell him - "Baba, I love you ... I wish I told you this in words while you were alive ... I know you knew this and my biggest treasure would be that in your last conscious day you said "Shubho aamake shob theke beshi bhalobashe" ... I really did Baba ... Just never said that to you in person. I am sorry for that. I know it was hard for you to be the father you were, I know you made many sacrifices just for me, I know you worried about me ... a lot, I know you wanted me to be the best and have the best. I also know that I had the most wonderful father in the world, the father that I would like to be someday. I promise you I will try my best. Happy Fathers' Day Baba! Miss you."
And Mamma to you I promise I would be that father you need, I wont be your ATM or your unconditional support (especially when you are wrong), but I will be there for you whenever you need me. I would have unconditional love for you ... always. I would worry about you, but I wont tie you down, if its something constructive you plan to pursue. I would be your encouragement, and your strength and hopefully your hero ... At least I will try my best.
I love you...
Baba
I call you "Gugush Pupush" these days ... doesn't mean anything ... or maybe it does ... I think it just expresses the feeling I get when I hug you and you stroke your nose and forehead on my shoulder or chest ... whatever it is ... its lovely to call you that ... and when you acknowledge it with a smile, it just becomes priceless.
I am enjoying every bit of being your father and secretly love the fact that the first syllables you have started blabbering are "Ba ba ba ba ...". However stupid it is, something wants me to believe that these are not meaningless random sounds that you find interesting to repeat throughout the day with a lot of zeal ... but that's you calling me "Baba". Now being the reason-based thinker I am (or claim to be), this shall remain in my closet till you or your mom reads this :-)
But this Fathers' Day, I wanted to share with you some of my memories of my father ... the man I called "Baba".
I don't know if I can ever convey to you how much he would have loved you and how much he was capable of loving, no words would really be able to explain his heart and his deep love for people he cared about. There is an expression in English "Loving someone to a fault" ... that was the only way he knew to love. The problem was ... he knew that and hence to prevent himself from committing that "fault" he would be extra harsh to the people he loved ... mostly to your Tham and me.
You can ask your Titlididi how and what she remembers of him ... as she is the one grand-daughter he could meet and play with before he missed you by less than a year. She used to call him Dolphin Dadu as he told her stories about the freshwater Dolphins that swim about and sometimes jump out of the water in the Ganga. The stories fascinated her so much that she started calling him Dolphin Dadu. She would be a teacher and he would be her student and would act stupid and slow and she would laugh at him and scold him for not understanding ... but he could spend hours with her and keep making her feel like the teacher she wanted to be without a single moment's miss.
Anyways it's Fathers' Day and I really wanted to write about him, but didn't want to post it anywhere, because if people read, they would probably praise me ... and I don't want that ... I just want to write about him because I miss him, especially because I cannot share my fatherhood with the man that taught me what a father should be like. Then I realized, I could write to you ... this can be our little secret.
You know I pride myself with my ability to observe and my thirst for knowledge ... and if I really look back, this whole concept of observation came from Baba.
He would show me the onset of winter by waking me up in the morning to see the fog outside.
He would make me watch movies and through the movie he would tell me what wowed him about a particular scene, and why. He would explain to me how the scene could have been made ... and I would be wowed too.
When I started learning music, I wasn't good with rhythm, and he made me do the beats alongside a Sarod recital by Ustaad Amjad Ali Khan for a full 90 minutes. That one day made me get Rhythm in my reflexes and I never got it wrong, as he promised. That's why I cherish the black blood clot on my thigh, and didnt have regrets.
He taught me swimming at the age of 2 and a half, in the Ganga without tubes and stuff ... and that's one thing I still do better than most although I was never athletic.
He showed me how to read a book and make excerpts and notes that made me learn and remember stuff, that made a wonderful ready-reckoner just before exams.
He would get us cousins together and when we asked him to tell stories, he would ask us to think of stories ... he would say here's what I am starting with. Now what do you think happened after this? And we would imagine the next bit of the story and we would create a story together and not even know.
I liked detective stories and didn't much care for the fairy tales ... and he had one ready whenever I asked for one. And he didn't lie to me when I asked - did you read this? He would always say - no I just made it up :-) And trust me no two stories would be similar.
He would always pose questions like "Where did we really come from?" "Is there a God?" etc and I would wonder and then read up and try to make up my opinion. He always had his opinion and didn't refrain from letting me know what it was ... but always allowed me to debate, and mostly argue with him. That made me research more.
I could go on for another 33 years (time that I had him for), but I would draw the line here. Through you I wish to tell him - "Baba, I love you ... I wish I told you this in words while you were alive ... I know you knew this and my biggest treasure would be that in your last conscious day you said "Shubho aamake shob theke beshi bhalobashe" ... I really did Baba ... Just never said that to you in person. I am sorry for that. I know it was hard for you to be the father you were, I know you made many sacrifices just for me, I know you worried about me ... a lot, I know you wanted me to be the best and have the best. I also know that I had the most wonderful father in the world, the father that I would like to be someday. I promise you I will try my best. Happy Fathers' Day Baba! Miss you."
And Mamma to you I promise I would be that father you need, I wont be your ATM or your unconditional support (especially when you are wrong), but I will be there for you whenever you need me. I would have unconditional love for you ... always. I would worry about you, but I wont tie you down, if its something constructive you plan to pursue. I would be your encouragement, and your strength and hopefully your hero ... At least I will try my best.
I love you...
Baba
