Somewhere amidst the countless arguments, confrontations, reconciliations and apologies, my father and I rediscovered facts from our individual lives, the forces that were driving us, and most importantly, we saw how many experiences from our lives were so much alike, yet what we took from those experiences were so very different.
And somewhere along the way I realized what my father had always known, that there were no heroes or villains in our stories, just people walking towards us or away from us.
Neither my father nor me were known for living life by the books, that to me was the single most important bond we shared. And when I realized he would not be around for his grandchildren to learn from him, as they grow up and are gradually exposed to the world, I proposed the idea of this blog to him, just around the time his health started deteriorating.
On 24-Sep-2020, a year after his passing, I start telling his story, with the hope I do justice to everything he endured in life.
About My Father
My father, was a flawed human being, like any of us. But unlike many of us, he was an honest, flawed human being. That's like giving the few people who were'nt quite fond of him, a weapon specifically designed to decimate his character - and decimate, they did.
But what empowered these people, who happened to cross paths with my father at different times in his life, was not the metaphorical weapon, but because, even provoked, he did not call them out, or react to their provocation.
You see, he was the ultimate people person. He was the guy you'd want to call when you're stuck in the middle of a forest, during a storm, at the dead of the night, for help. He was annoyingly impartial, passionate, strategic, fiercely fearless, and of superhuman will.
He would go out on a limb for anyone who came to him for help, yet stood his ground for what he believed in. He'll protect you with all his will and might, but would endure anything you threw at him, without ever losing his composure.
His kryptonite ? He drank, drank a lot, over the years he became a borderline alchoholic. And like most fathers, he was selectively rigid, stubborn and sometimes downright impossible to communicate with.
About This Blog
During my childhood years, growing up listening to stories of my father's escapades would later in life, inspire me to venture into my own. And at my boisterous, teenage years, when I was at the verge of going out of control, I was met with his wrath. The man had a way of making me soil my pants without ever laying a finger on me, well, except for a solitary slap that was so elegantly carved on to my right cheek, for something I did, which was really (really) stupid, when I was 15. He somehow knew exactly what to say and do when it came to setting me straight.
My adolescent years, were another story. "Concerned" relatives, who I was living with for a couple of years for my education, would often barrage me with confounded, baseless accusations about my father, with each one of those accusations anchored to exagerrated instances of when they saw him have a drink or two. They, for reasons (not) unclear, had made it their life's mission to establish him as a mindless drunk in my head. And the frustrating part was, it worked for a while.
Filled with conflict in my head about my father, during my early adulthood, I would often confront, argue and sometimes, even though very rarely, would disrepect him, just to feel better about myself.
But with more exposure to the stories of this world we live in, I decided I did not want to leave anything unresolved with my father, and in the June of 2014, moved back home. After months of arguments, uncomfortable conversations, and awkward revelations, I finally made peace with everything and had a relationship with my father, that I dreamed of for almost three years, before he passed away in September 2019.
This blog is an attempt to record the many, profound, honest, and inspirational experiences from my relationship with my father, in the hopes that his grandchildren, Rithanya, Ananya, and Dyani get to know and learn from his life, but more importantly understand why he is reverred and loved without limits by a lot of his friends and family, even with his many flaws and blemishes. I hope his stories inspire them to live a honest, hardworking life, filled with mistakes and learning. I hope they learn from his stories, to trust wisely, and from his mistakes, learn to make better judgement in their own lives. I hope they get to understand, that even though he was'nt around to see them grow up, he loved them very, very much.