Fatherly matters

The proud glow on the face of the man holding his first born of few months, is evident even in the black & white photo taken in early seventies. Back then in 1970, he had the moral courage to stand up to his family and the society at large and get married to a girl driven out from Bangladesh after partition. His parents resisted with all their might, including the threat to disown him. But the man in question loved the girl for her grit and success. She crossed over penniless and homeless, barely out of her puberty. But she toiled hard over the following years to get herself trained as a montessori teacher and got herself a teaching job with the state government. The money she earned helped her to take care of her younger sister, who was still in college. That she managed to achieve that despite all the odds, had drawn him towards her. He married her in a simple ceremony surrounded only by a couple of his friends, who stood him in good stead through thick and thin. His family disowned him, as was threatened. Together they resolved to make one life out of all the challenges they faced in their lives. I am their first born.

Baba, my father, has been the silent force who shaped my life. With a few words and a lot many deeds. His unique ways of being a father is what I have drawn a lot of my life's lessons from. When I was in class six, barely eleven, he taught me the ways to handle banking transactions. He reposed great faith in a young child for any father of that age and time. I became a confident kid who cycled to bank branches and post offices to complete all his financial transactions. He prepared me in advance on how to how to handle curious fellow customers and questioning tellers. I did wonderfully well on that count. That was his way to train his son to become a confident man. Years before, he and maa sent me out to stay with my aunt when I was barely four. That was to esnure that I get a good education. It must have been a painful decision for them. By the time I turned teenager, he let me travel alone by train between home (Kharagpur) and Burdwan (where I stayed with my aunt), a good 250 kms and six hours apart. The journey required a break journey and a train change at Howrah Jn., a place teeming with millions! This despite the fact that back then in Bengal child-kidnappers lurked around every street corner and every day newspapers carried horrifying stories about the same. He in his usual style prepared me for what lay in store and the dos and donts. He was getting me ready to face the world. There were scores of people around to discourage him from his unusual methods, but he stood firm; including he spurning an offer from his police officer friend who wanted to send a constable to watch me over through the journey. Years later on my way to SSB interview, when I was getting bullied by six-footer, many-time SSB-flunked Jats in Varanasi Jn. that lesson stood me in good stead. I could at five and a half feet, stand up to them, without even having to sound aggressive!

Back then, every father worried about a growing son and the bad habits he could imbibe. I could overhear his friends warning him about smoking, drinking, porn and all the other bad things in life. When the time finally came, he never discussed the topic. Not even once. He never said a word about smoking, drinking or porn. He just spoke about choices that a man makes in his life. And he gave a lot of examples from his own life - the decisions he took and what they meant for him. Over days and weeks he taught me the value of making choices in life. Not about right choices, but just about choices. He taught me about the eventuality that choices can go wrong, but that not making a choice out of fear of making a wrong one, would be a greater failure in life. He never warned me about wrong choices. Instead he taught me that choices can go wrong anytime, even at times due to factors beyond one's control. And he told me how it is more important for a man to be able to recognise a wrong choice and work towards correcting it. He told me about his choice of marrying my maa. about he sending me away to study; about letting me handle his banking matters; about he letting me travel alone; and many other choices he made in life. and he told me about how he arrived at those decisions; and why he made those choices, despite so many concerns and misgivigs! Life, seen through his perspective, became an interesting subject for me! In the end, as it has turned out, I have made fewer wrong choices in my life. That is what my father has gifted me!

Though his family was cross with him for many many years because of his marriage, he never allowed that distance to get him separated from his siblings. When the time came, he had the courage to walk up to his father and seek his permission to take three of his school-going brothers with him. He believed that they will have a better chance at education if they stayed with him. The three uncleteers, as I call them, stayed with us for ten years, over varying periods, and went on to make thier own lives. The three uncleteers would give their lives to be by our side at times of need. When my maa was in ICU last year, battling for her life, all of the three were there, even before any one of us could reach Kolkata.

My Baba is a self-made man....he left home in his teens to study further, even though his father did not fund his study. When he landed a job, he went back home and volunteered out of his share of property and farm land. He felt his other siblings without a job needed them more. One more choice of his that shaped my own thinking a long long way. His three children share a relationship beyond the values of money and inheritance. Once I heard him telling someone in the family that he is relieved his children do not bother about inheritance, even after marriage.         

All his three children - my sister, my brother and myself have been brats all our lives. We have had accidents, many of them near fatal, number of times that I have lost count of. Such was the frequency with which we had to visit the family doctor's clinic that he had a running account which was settled once a month! I had put my own house on fire, nearly drowned in the pond by the house, drank kerosene, swallowed 14 sleeping pills at one go, yanked my head open when landed on a stone slab while diving in the pond! my brother fell from a date palm tree onto a barbed wire and slpit his face wide open that required 24 stitches, carries a bent hand that was broken to smithereens when it banged onto a railway pole when he let it out of the window of a running train, nearly got suffocated to death when he lay buried under a ton of husk; my sister was the mischief maker and the ideator behind all these daring acts, most of the time! Despite all these and many more incidents, he never ever gave up hope. He just found a new way to keep his belief and positive attitude alive, despite the repeated and frequent incidents that could have shaken anyone's belief! He never imposed embargo on us because of what we did! He never preveneted us from continuing to play with the children of the maids and farm hands, during which most of these incidents happened. Instead, he would tell us to take care of each other. He ensured that the children of all our maids and farm hands study. He values education like nothing else. When our farm hands and maids used to fall sick, he would visit their homes and drop medicines. He would call the doctor and ask him to take care of them. It is from him I have learnt not to be class conscious. Even to this day, Usu and Nirodh kaku and Bou and Kamal and scores of others would visit us whenever we visit his home. Last year, the whole family gathered for Kali Pujo at home. My father wanted this pujo to happen at home. It was a festive atmosphere at home, with crackers bursting, children running around, kebabs getting grilled and the aarti happening. All our house-helps and farm-hands and their families were invited to share the joy. It was great fun. It was after many many years that such a gathering was happening at home and happiness was written all over Baba's face. He even did a whole night aarti one day!

My sister has been his favourite child. He made a worng choice to get her married at a young age. Years later, when the marriage fell through, he humbly accepted about the wrong choice he made. Yet, he never blamed the person who was singularly instrumental to drive him to take that decision! When he realised that my sister could take it no more, we decided to bring her back home. A choice he is happy about as he can't bear to see her unhappy. I still remember the moment vividly when my father broke down during her bidai! Tears fell unabated as his daughter touched his feet to seek his blessings! The moment immortalised in video, which I have seen several times over, reminds me of the love he has for his daughter. I had never seen him cry before. When the marriage was finally over, he stood behind her like a rock and provided her with all support to resurrect her life. She went on to study fashion designing post her break-up and she is doing well. He is happy to see her settled in career, though he constantly grouses about her inability to achieve work-life balance.

Life presented with difficult times when his favourite brother and his two sons made their choices about their life partners. But each of the three times he walked the distance to come around and keep the family bonded. He may have been upset and may have faced tough questions within the family, but eventually he respected the choices we made. By then I became his sounding board for most of the major decisions he took. My ability to stay calm even during stressful times is what comforted him. If I am visiting home, we would walk up to the terrace to discuss such private matters. The terrace is where he feels comfortable. We would sit by the side facing the pond. The cool breeze from the pond and the birds and squirrels made up the rest of the presence! Typical of him, he would pause for long moments between sentences, looking at the distant end of the pond to pour his heart out. I would be listening patiently and then providing my perspective about the things spoken about. And more often than not, he would agree with my thoughts. Maybe, in me he sees his own self. If I am away, he would call in advance and tell me about things he wants to speak to me about. We would chat for hours to share our perspectives. When I made my choice - to marry the lady I liked and loved, I wrote a long letter to him explaining the reasons behind my choice. He called me back in a couple of days to say that he is happy with my choice; and happier for the reasons behind the choice. That she is a divorcee will not be a cause of concern. I had a lovely wedding in Cochin, far away from home blessed by him. He even admonised the pandit for taking short-cuts during the long drawn bengali wedding!

Life let him down when my maa was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. It has robbed him of the company of his wife, when it mattered most. With his children busy with their own careers, he is alone, gallantly fighting all odds to keep maa functioning. Yet, he is still not bitter about life. I have learnt from him on how to remain positive in life against all odds. He has taught me to be patient by not spanking us with the proverbial stick when we played rather dangerous mischiefs. Instead he had the patience to make us sit down and explain the pain such acts caused to one and all. I remember once I had thrown a gold ring down the well. He had won it in a bridge competition. I wanted to hear the echo the ring would create when it dropped in the water! Instead of beating me up, he made me sit through the day to watch the people who went down the well to get the ring back. It took three men one whole day! It was then he explained how a single careless act of mine resulted in all these. I realised that it not only cost him money, but also the efforts of so many people. I learnt to be more careful in life. He could have easily beaten me black & blue to instill the fear that everyone would have advocated. He didn't. In fact, he never raised a finger at me. Every time we made mistakes, he patiently explained the repurcussions of them. When I put the house on fire for the silly reason of watching if the fire really went up or down, one room got completely gutted. On his return from office, he must have felt devastated, but showed examplary patience to put things back in order. Though he spoke to me about what a gravely wrong thing I did, and how it pained him and maa, he ensured that he did not douse my inquisitive spirits. I have grown up to become a house proud man, one who values a well kept house. I don't feel odd about cleaning and mopping my house to keep it tidy.

He is my beloved baba. The man who I owe the story of my life to. The man who ensured that his mischevious and bratty son grows up into a patient and understanding father. The man who did not kill my curiosity with the stick. The man who through his actions taught me how to be an indulgent father and an understanding husband, without being patronising. The man who proudly shared the kitchen work with his wife and along the way taught me to be an equal human being. The man who taught me the value of making a choice! He is the man whose unusual ways of handling a difficult kid left lasting impressions in my mind. The man whose ability to repose faith in a growing child made me into a confident and positive person. The man who achieved all these without even raising a finger! To him I owe the little successes I have had in my life. He is not an internet literate person and will probably never read this piece, but never passes a moment when his heart doesn't beat with the rhythms of my love for him. Happy Father's Day, baba! In all matters that are fatherly, I hope I will continue to do the good things for my daughters. And for the rest of the world to know what a wonderful father you have been!