Sitting here in the sunny California Bay Area, thousands of miles,
away from him back in India, I remember with smiles,
many fond memories of childhood, growing up, adolescent,
and finally leaving home, from then to the present.
Reminiscences are strange, they fail you sometimes, I lament,
So I try and commit to memory, some special moments.
At least I need not be afraid about smudges in word documents,
Made by my tears as I go through nostalgia in the following sentences.
Looking at the world mostly perched on his shoulders,
I was the Princess and could win anything with honors.
Playing doctor to my doll, washing away my artwork from the walls,
Driving to the beaches, playing with sand-castles and the balls.
Amazing tricks with a rope climbing the wall to violin music, oh boy.
Even a simple garbage drop would be an extra trip to buy a toy.
A talented artist in his own right, working on oils, clay or pastels
he would see my crawly pictures of supposedly pretty girls,
looking like beheaded mummies, as signs of great promise.
I wanted to be like him! He ensured the smile on my face.
Started school and made friends, though boarding school was a fright,
Waiting for a bright 3D post card with his message on it, the only highlight.
Summer vacation, being with family, our happiness, he knew the best,
Soon we left boarding school and were just like the rest.
But there were times when he used to be so protective that it embarrassed me.
I especially remember the time when I had a fall at school and scraped my knee.
The next evening he was at the school grounds asking my friends,
While I stood there, hoping no one took offense,
if anyone pushed me on purpose, his darling daughter cannot fall by herself!
From that day, I made sure he knew that I could take care of myself.
My friends admired him for his gentle attitude, his smile, his good looks,
his knowledge on a wide range of topics, his collection of books,
Not to mention he was the gallant and willing chauffeur
being the one always to pick us up from a party or movie theatre!
He also gave the final touch to our Biology diagrams to impress our teacher.
Always the one to help – friends, neighbor, stranger or near & dear.
He had his rules about the books I read and movies I watched in my teens.
And when I sneak in a juicy romance novel, he had his uncanny way and means
In finding them in the most ‘unfindable’ place! The incriminating evidence in hand,
I would be in for a long lecture, a Charles Dickens, to read it, a command.
I still managed to read those books (it’s a girl thing, I guess!)
in between the Dickens but somehow I feel that he knew about it and did not stress!
He promised me a moped if in my 12th exams I crossed the 90 percentile
I did it, more to see the pride in his face than the moped I could ride in style.
College was fun as I zoomed up and down, but I ensured and squashed my fears,
that my friends’ whispers about me being a menace on two wheels did not reach his ears!
I went on to do my Masters, and this time in a Co-Ed class,
I ended up with more friends of the opposite sex! A tomboy that I was,
I remember the day when I gave a lift to a boy of my class on the pillion seat
He saw me and I knew I was in for a sermon complete.
I was feeling rebellious. So giving a boy a lift doesn’t mean anything, I frowned!
We talked about trust and openness that day and I never let him down.
He knew all my friends by name and when boys came home, oh brother,
he would hang around in the hall poking at something or the other.
Got a job, rode a better bike, read any novel and spoke to any boys I wanted,
watched Michael Jackson shows on TV in spite of his frowns, undaunted.
But I was still his little girl, he knew and he trusted,
I was a piece of him, and will always know as I adjusted.
We had some daily rituals, like a game of chess,
he would let me backtrack, when my side was in distress.
He was still the magic-fingers-Dad to repair my glasses, my bike
and my ego, whenever and as often required!
Time flew and he started looking for an alliance for me
and rejected all the boys based abroad, no one across seven seas!
Married and settled in Bombay, I left the home I knew for over 24 years,
New life, new family, everything new, but he allayed my fears.
Junior was born, and in my early days of new motherhood,
I went through panic fits for things I never understood.
When the puny fellow used to throw up or refused to sleep
or cried endlessly for God knows what, just to make me weep!
He used to take over and carry him in between feeds,
telling junior stories of great people and their deeds.
While I looked at him disbelievingly as to how junior will understand,
being so young, holding out his tiny hands around his old wrinkled hand.
His argument was that his grandson will register the stories
And influence him later as his destiny has in store many glories!
Some years back, he went through 2 major surgeries,
My superman was unwell in the hospital and that shook me up.
He came back home, much thinner and older
but he insisted that his heart was 20 years younger.
He has gone back to his old ways of driving the scooter for any small reason,
climbing the walls to pluck the elusive mango from our tree.
Now it is my turn to advise him to take care, not to eat pickles, no tension,
Not to climb trees, to get his tests done and he smiles through the phone.
And then I go about telling him what we are doing, work, weather, politics everything
what junior is up to, our plans to visit them and it keeps us going.
You must have known by now he is my Dad.
Today I see the same admiration in the eyes of my son for his Dad!
No! Today is not Father Day! It is just any other day,
and we love our fathers just the same, needless to say!
I pick my phone to talk to him at the end of this outpour,
Knowing I am still his little girl, however I grow older.
Moms are fantastic too and I have one – so beautiful in heart and brave in spirit but that is a whole different poem!
away from him back in India, I remember with smiles,
many fond memories of childhood, growing up, adolescent,
and finally leaving home, from then to the present.
Reminiscences are strange, they fail you sometimes, I lament,
So I try and commit to memory, some special moments.
At least I need not be afraid about smudges in word documents,
Made by my tears as I go through nostalgia in the following sentences.
Looking at the world mostly perched on his shoulders,
I was the Princess and could win anything with honors.
Playing doctor to my doll, washing away my artwork from the walls,
Driving to the beaches, playing with sand-castles and the balls.
Amazing tricks with a rope climbing the wall to violin music, oh boy.
Even a simple garbage drop would be an extra trip to buy a toy.
A talented artist in his own right, working on oils, clay or pastels
he would see my crawly pictures of supposedly pretty girls,
looking like beheaded mummies, as signs of great promise.
I wanted to be like him! He ensured the smile on my face.
Started school and made friends, though boarding school was a fright,
Waiting for a bright 3D post card with his message on it, the only highlight.
Summer vacation, being with family, our happiness, he knew the best,
Soon we left boarding school and were just like the rest.
But there were times when he used to be so protective that it embarrassed me.
I especially remember the time when I had a fall at school and scraped my knee.
The next evening he was at the school grounds asking my friends,
While I stood there, hoping no one took offense,
if anyone pushed me on purpose, his darling daughter cannot fall by herself!
From that day, I made sure he knew that I could take care of myself.
My friends admired him for his gentle attitude, his smile, his good looks,
his knowledge on a wide range of topics, his collection of books,
Not to mention he was the gallant and willing chauffeur
being the one always to pick us up from a party or movie theatre!
He also gave the final touch to our Biology diagrams to impress our teacher.
Always the one to help – friends, neighbor, stranger or near & dear.
He had his rules about the books I read and movies I watched in my teens.
And when I sneak in a juicy romance novel, he had his uncanny way and means
In finding them in the most ‘unfindable’ place! The incriminating evidence in hand,
I would be in for a long lecture, a Charles Dickens, to read it, a command.
I still managed to read those books (it’s a girl thing, I guess!)
in between the Dickens but somehow I feel that he knew about it and did not stress!
He promised me a moped if in my 12th exams I crossed the 90 percentile
I did it, more to see the pride in his face than the moped I could ride in style.
College was fun as I zoomed up and down, but I ensured and squashed my fears,
that my friends’ whispers about me being a menace on two wheels did not reach his ears!
I went on to do my Masters, and this time in a Co-Ed class,
I ended up with more friends of the opposite sex! A tomboy that I was,
I remember the day when I gave a lift to a boy of my class on the pillion seat
He saw me and I knew I was in for a sermon complete.
I was feeling rebellious. So giving a boy a lift doesn’t mean anything, I frowned!
We talked about trust and openness that day and I never let him down.
He knew all my friends by name and when boys came home, oh brother,
he would hang around in the hall poking at something or the other.
Got a job, rode a better bike, read any novel and spoke to any boys I wanted,
watched Michael Jackson shows on TV in spite of his frowns, undaunted.
But I was still his little girl, he knew and he trusted,
I was a piece of him, and will always know as I adjusted.
We had some daily rituals, like a game of chess,
he would let me backtrack, when my side was in distress.
He was still the magic-fingers-Dad to repair my glasses, my bike
and my ego, whenever and as often required!
Time flew and he started looking for an alliance for me
and rejected all the boys based abroad, no one across seven seas!
Married and settled in Bombay, I left the home I knew for over 24 years,
New life, new family, everything new, but he allayed my fears.
Junior was born, and in my early days of new motherhood,
I went through panic fits for things I never understood.
When the puny fellow used to throw up or refused to sleep
or cried endlessly for God knows what, just to make me weep!
He used to take over and carry him in between feeds,
telling junior stories of great people and their deeds.
While I looked at him disbelievingly as to how junior will understand,
being so young, holding out his tiny hands around his old wrinkled hand.
His argument was that his grandson will register the stories
And influence him later as his destiny has in store many glories!
Some years back, he went through 2 major surgeries,
My superman was unwell in the hospital and that shook me up.
He came back home, much thinner and older
but he insisted that his heart was 20 years younger.
He has gone back to his old ways of driving the scooter for any small reason,
climbing the walls to pluck the elusive mango from our tree.
Now it is my turn to advise him to take care, not to eat pickles, no tension,
Not to climb trees, to get his tests done and he smiles through the phone.
And then I go about telling him what we are doing, work, weather, politics everything
what junior is up to, our plans to visit them and it keeps us going.
You must have known by now he is my Dad.
Today I see the same admiration in the eyes of my son for his Dad!
No! Today is not Father Day! It is just any other day,
and we love our fathers just the same, needless to say!
I pick my phone to talk to him at the end of this outpour,
Knowing I am still his little girl, however I grow older.
Moms are fantastic too and I have one – so beautiful in heart and brave in spirit but that is a whole different poem!
