His memories haunt me
He was the Sun & Samurai. As I tried to forget him, his memories come and create puzzle to my daily life.
He was none, but my brave and courageous father. He was extravagant and luxurious. Even in his saddest days he did not leave his originality. He never sacrificed his luxury for well breed of our siblings.
He joined Indian Navy in 1957 and took VRS after 15 years. He told us splendidly the amazing days of war, his brave stories of war and exotic tales of war & sea so cleverly that I could not guess whether he supported war or not.
He never told me about morality and marriage but said about self-dependency. He was liberal. He welcomed my friends as “Hi comrades”. He was modern, yet never left his roots, social mores and customs. Even he was more modern than my brother who is working in the corporate world.
When I fear for something, My Mom says “You are not your father’s daughter. Be brave my little daughter.”
He always cried for a lost world. His visit to a town is a metaphor for a lost world. He never supported ethnic insurgency. But he never justified this. May be his patriotism? He told sometimes that work culture can solve many deep rooted problems. His watch and radio were his best friends.
After his death, my mind moves with so many enigmas and so many questions. When someone feels pity for me (as I am not getting married till now), I feel that in a patriarchal society, losing her father is the greatest tragedy for a girl. As I could not be a non-conformist.
He was none, but my brave and courageous father. He was extravagant and luxurious. Even in his saddest days he did not leave his originality. He never sacrificed his luxury for well breed of our siblings.
He joined Indian Navy in 1957 and took VRS after 15 years. He told us splendidly the amazing days of war, his brave stories of war and exotic tales of war & sea so cleverly that I could not guess whether he supported war or not.
He never told me about morality and marriage but said about self-dependency. He was liberal. He welcomed my friends as “Hi comrades”. He was modern, yet never left his roots, social mores and customs. Even he was more modern than my brother who is working in the corporate world.
When I fear for something, My Mom says “You are not your father’s daughter. Be brave my little daughter.”
He always cried for a lost world. His visit to a town is a metaphor for a lost world. He never supported ethnic insurgency. But he never justified this. May be his patriotism? He told sometimes that work culture can solve many deep rooted problems. His watch and radio were his best friends.
After his death, my mind moves with so many enigmas and so many questions. When someone feels pity for me (as I am not getting married till now), I feel that in a patriarchal society, losing her father is the greatest tragedy for a girl. As I could not be a non-conformist.
He is no more, no more.
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