It is considered traditional to put something up about one’s father on Father’s Day. That is for those who remember their fathers once a year. For me, a perennial ‘My Baba Strongest’ 47yo Baba’s boy, there is nothing special about today. I haven’t outgrown ‘My dad’s Superman’ phase even today. And half the things I say can be traced back to what he taught me, showed me, and demonstrated. So, no, there will be no special Father’s Day post today.
That being said, my 5yo thinks today is some special day and has been at it since morning. Let me recount my day till now:
- I woke up to hugs and kisses and wishes.
- Then, there was a card and my tea and biscuits on the little one’s table, which for today, belongs to me!
- Then, there was the young lady who watered the plants and cleaned the balcony so I could enjoy the flowers.
- There was a bubble bath planned, but I politely declined, and so it was enjoyed by the daughter instead.
- But before the bath, there was dancing, when our inner Zeenat (and Baba’s inner John Travolta) was channelised.
- Post-bath, we played Happy Birthday on our guitar (which for some reason, seemed strangely appropriate), and then pretend played songs from the Sound of Music, and danced to them for a one-man audience: Baba. Mamma, of course, was relegated to the official cameraperson.
- Two pastries, one chocolate-truffle and one cream-pineapple, were presented and consumed.
- Then, we spoke to Nanaji and Rashmi Masi, and he cut a cake for Father’s Day in Bengaluru.
- The annular solar eclipse was next on agenda, where we were explained using a globe, a torch, and a tennis ball how the moon casts a shadow on the Earth and how we cannot really see the sun with our eyes directly. X-ray film was tried and discarded once we researched and heard scientists say we can’t use it. Next time, we would get solar filters.
- Now, after another costume change, we are ready and waiting for a pretend-outing, looking like a propah lady with her purse. But it seems Baba and Mamma are tired (what did they even do through the morning?).
I look at my daughter and her love for me, and I wonder if I can ever match up to what my own father was to me. I miss you Baba, and I remember something you said to me long ago (I am in the habit of quoting you all the time, since you really did say stuff so on the nub that I cannot perfect it, and you will need to forgive me if it seems I have no original thought),
If you think you have one single smidgen, the smallest sliver, the littlest scrap of debt you think you owe me, you will pay it forward to your children, with compounded interest.
So, here’s to you, Baba: Happy Father’s Day. I promise to try.
P.S: Once again, since you asked, yes; I am obsessed with my 5yo.
