Papa, Papaji, pops, pitashri, dad. I had lots of names for you but just one relation. I was, am, still a part of you pappa.
As I try to recall my past, I find that my memories of you are woefully inadequate. Why is it that I remember everything but can’t recall anything? I guess the earliest memory I have of you is the day when mom was sick. I was adamant on having toast for dinner and having them from mom. I remember I was so angry that I went to bed hungry. I remember that you made the toast for me and tried to wake me up. But I was angry, very angry and I scratched the hand that was trying to feed me. Sorry for those scratches pappa. The chutney-toast still reminds me of that day pappa.
Somehow, the memories of my childhood has very little of you in them. You were busy, always busy with the business. I left early for school; you were just reading the paper. I came back from school; you were having your lunch or preparing for your afternoon siesta. It was time for bed by the time you were back from the shop. The most hurtful memories are of times when you were not where I was looking for you. I remember I was in seventh grade; I had stood first amongst all the seventh grade students. I was going to receive a prize from the school principal at our annual day. They called my name, I went to the stage and shook hands with the chief guest. I smiled at him and looked at the audience. It was very dark, I couldn’t make out a single face beyond the second row but I knew you weren’t there. I love books, but I never ever read the three books I got for my prize that day. I never stood first again pappa.
It was the school annual sports day; I was chosen for the school parade. I was supposed to run the race. It was an honor to represent the house. I looked up at the stands. I had requested you to be present. You were still not in the audience. I stood outside the stadium crying that day. I never ran another race. I needed you in the audience cheering me on, pappa.
My clearest memories of you are from the time I graduated high school. You wanted me to be an architect, I didn’t. I went for telecom engineering. I still remember how you ran around asking about how good my college was. I still remember how you drove all the way to college in incessant rains to submit my application forms 10 minutes before the deadline. I cannot forget all the pains you took so that I can do what I wanted do. You never questioned why I didn’t consider what you had in mind for me. I guess that’s when we bridged the gap between us. We really were starting to talk to each other. I still have a lot of years of catching up to do pappa.
The college days are a blur. I do remember though that in my third year, you mistakenly told somebody I was majoring in computer science. But by that time I thought it was funny. It didn’t hurt at all. Final year; I got selected for a job. I was one amongst the five people who were chosen. Out of 200 who tried from my college. It meant a lot to me. I came home, told you about it. You just peeked from behind your newspaper and asked me: “does that mean you won’t study further?”. I didn’t know pappa. But did my success mean nothing? But weren't you really happy when I got called for IIM interview. Is that all you wanted? Just further studies. You asked me to go for Indian Administrative Services, I refused. You asked me to do MBA, I said I want to do MS. You said you are ok, I went ahead and gave my MBA exams. You said you were fine with it, I threw away the interview and came to US for MS. Thanks for letting me live my life my way pappa.
While working and living in Delhi, whenever you came to visit us, I will see the pain in your eyes when you saw the place I lived in. Mom said it out aloud, you didn't but I knew it hurt you to see me slogging this way. When we went out for dinner, you insisted on paying. You told me that my money is fake. Your money still can buy food for me. I earn real money now pappa. I owe you so many dinners pappa.
As I was leaving for USA, I know you dropped me off at the airport with such a heavy heart. I could almost see the moist eyes. You were happy that I was doing what I wanted to do. You were happy that I was leaving to be on my own. Even though this meant that I will probably not return. Why didn't you stop me that day pappa?
I remember we had so many clashes over the issue of my marriage. You wanted to see me married, with kids, happy. I resisted. I wanted to wait. I wanted to live life, to enjoy my money. You had a sense of urgency about it that I failed to understand. I said so many unkind words during that time. I take back every bad thing I said pappa.
I remember how happy you were when I got married. You were on cloud nine. I have never seen you dance so much pappa.
I remember when you came to visit us here. You were like a kid in a candy store. You were exploring the streets, the malls, the shops with such a childlike excitement. I was busy with work. I still don't know why I didn't take time off to spend all my time with you. I should have. The image of you going past the security checkpoint towards your gate at the airport has been engraved in my mind. Was it my imagination or did you turn once to give us a long look. I didn't know it would be the last time I will see you on your feet pappa.
The phone call shook me that night. The moment that I have dreaded for every day since arriving in US arrived. My worst fears had come true. It was a call for me to come home. To you. They told me you might not have too long. But how is that possible. There is so much we have to do together. You still have to play with your grandkids pappa.
Seeing you there in the hospital bed was hard. It felt like somebody had knocked the wind out of me. How could the doctors talk so nonchalantly about your condition. How can he just put a percentage to your chance of survival? I tried to keep my mind occupied with inane things. Meeting you twice a day became a ritual I both looked forward to and dreaded. You were still worried about me. You didn't have to be. It was my turn to take care of you pappa.
They asked me to make a decision on your life. How could I decide the end of life for the one who gave me life? Life is not fair! I chose to prolong your life and your suffering. I am sorry. I didn't know how to make those decisions pappa.
Even though the doctors had told me of the inevitable, it didn't make the pain any easier to bear when the moment did arrive. How could it happen? Gods surely must have made some error. It just wasn't your time. You had to spend time with us. While in the hospital, you asked us to take you home. I didn't want to take you home wrapped in white sheet. I wanted to walk home with you. That journey was the longest and most painful for me pappa.
You know, when we brought you home, all the males of the family went outside the room where we made you rest one final time. I was sitting there with mom, sisters and other females. I was trying to comfort them. Sometime during then, I realized that I was the only male in the room. I guessed maybe that was not right. I thought, I will go outside and be where you are, that will be the right thing to do. Then I realized I
was where you were. I was sitting right next to you. There was nobody to tell me what was the right thing to do. Nobody was there to guide me anymore pappa.
Why do they call it last rites? Why do they make it so difficult for the surviving family? They asked me to light the funeral pyre of the person who had given me life. It was very cruel. Each and every moment was meant to remind me of you. Your shoes were lying where you had left them after polishing them. The after shave bottle was only half used. The can of shaving gel was still uncapped. The shirts still hung where you left them. The newspaper also is sitting there unread pappa.
Everybody told me how good you were, not even realizing how painful each bit of detail was for me. But there was so much that I learned from them about my own pappa. They said I have to take care of my mother and sisters now. I am the big guy now. I am not. I was still the same as the day before. There was so much that I still had to learn from you pappa. I have no idea how to handle such a big responsibility pappa. I can't do this pappa. You never told me life will be so tough pappa.
I wish you well wherever you are pappa. Don't worry about me, I will take care of everybody. I will try my best to make sure that they are always happy. But am I allowed to cry when I am by myself pappa?...
