Father's Day: What does it mean to be a Dad

I am not into celebrating days like Father's day. It always felt corny. There are so many generations that have been parents and went on with their lives without celebrating this day. It just feels like another day for marketing and selling products. This year is however different and cant help but think what I could done differently last year on this day.

This is the first Father's day without my Dad. It is hard to believe that months have passed since he is gone and in couple more it will be an year. As time passes, memories fade and wounds heal they say. I am not sure if either of them will happen, but I wish they do. I know one thing for sure, that he wanted me and my family to move on.

He was very devotional and philosophical man. He believed in karma and doing good. He never failed to visit an orphange and make donation on my grandma's death anniversary. He wanted to give back to the society by donating to the school and temple in the village he was born and grew up. He did his prayer every day without a fail in the morning. He never gave up this habit even when he became weak and lost a lot of weight from his CKD. I think his faith and belief in God gave him the strength to handle the pressures of life and his bad health.

My Dad was a very humble man. People took advantage of his soft spokenness. He brushed them aside by saying 'paddavadu yeppudu cheddavadu kadu'. I felt rage at those people and more at my Dad for tolerating the idiots. I had expressed my anger to him about the way people would take his help and not even convey their gratitufe. He would just say 'edaina asinchi manchi cheyyakoodadu. manchini gurthanichani vadide tappu kani manchi chese vadidi kadu'. I never understood his philosophy.

One thing, he never told us how much he loved us. It is typical of his generation and mine to grow up and know that there was love and effection but no mention was ever made of it. Sadly, I never said the same to him. That is my only regret, I wish I had that one extra moment to tell him how much he meant to me. How much we as a family still needed him, may be he would have had a reason to fight longer. But that is just wishful thinking, I know.

He was great with money. He put to good use of it, with the limited income he had. He got us educated and built a house for the family. Unfortunately, he also gave away money as loans to people who asked for help. He trusted people to be good just like him. Hopefully, the world will not break the trust he had.


He was very uncomfortable when it involved matters dealing with the public office. There is a lot of haggling, nagging, repetitive visits and under the table dealings that one has to be involved. He hated it. I did not understand that growing up. Now I understand after dealing with these people. It plays with your conscience and there is a certain kind that can live with it and some that accept it. He could do neither, but did the chores when necessary and go more and more uncomfortable as grew older.

He was persistant and never gave up hope, be it his career, personal life, health. He never expressed his anger at his superiors for bypassing him . He hoped one day he would get to be an Accounts Officer. Inexperienced, young kids got promoted way ahead of him. He would move on. The only way he knew was to put in his time and earn every penny of his salary. He was content knowing that his livelihood came from his hardwork. Playing hard was the only way he know and playing 'smart'. Just about a month before his official retirement, he did get the promotion to become an Accounts Officer. I could feel the happiness and contentment in his voice that day.

I had rarely seen him cry. I had heard from my Mom once about it. It was the time when he was about to undergo his first angioplasty. Apparently he had a tear in his eyes, when the doctors told that his heart condition is hereditory. He shed his tears not for himself, but over a concern he had for his kids and their future.
Growing up, I did not understand why he did certain things the way he did. Now a little older and having a daughter of my own, I understand him better. He would deliberate on things and I understand that deliberation is not all that bad. Most times in life, a thoughtful inaction is better than a hasty action. Hopefully I can keep learning from his memories and lead a fulfilling life as he did.

I dont know why but I am reminded of a poem 'Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening' by Robert Frost that I learnt in my childhood in school

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queerTo stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

I am sure my Dad would want me to go miles and miles longer.