Hey Dad!

As I write this with a sense of angst and contrast, my Dad is sleeping in the other room. I am writing about a journey that was not all joyous. As the clock moved slowly through time, I wondered about the consequences of my action, but I wanted to pour my heart out and leave no stones unturned. I was born when my Dad was 40 years old. Maybe that is where the problems started. He was not there during the entirety of my childhood as he was working hard to ensure that there was food on the table. He stayed away from my mother and me until I was four.

My mother told me the story of the first time I met my Dad. I waited for him at the airport along with my mother and uncle. My mother showed me pictures of my Dad to ensure we got along correctly. Finally, the flight landed on time, and my Dad came out of the airport. He stood on the other side of the rail and faced me. I stared at him and him at me. He saw me for the first time and just stood there and looked at me. Finally, my mum asked, "Who is that?" pointing at my Dad. I replied with a grim undertone, "Appa."

When my mum told me this story, I asked her a simple question. Why did my Dad not come and hug me and lift me with joy? Unfortunately, this question still remains unanswered. Our relationship could not have started better. We went to the beach following my Dad's arrival, and I looked at the pictures from that day. I had a smile in all the pictures, naked, soaking in the autumn sun and the salty beach, but I was crying in every image my Dad featured.

He always wanted the best for me. He worked really hard to put food on the table. He endured a really harsh childhood because my grandfather was ignorant, and they were knee-deep in poverty. He did not have proper pants to wear to school. Sometimes, the only food available was water and leftover rice. There was no place to sleep and no adequate safety. Yet, he endured through hell and came out fighting like a champion. In order to pursue a proper education, he ran away from his family and cleaned tables at a restaurant to make ends meet. He told me this story when we ate at the same restaurant a few decades later. However, this time he was a successful businessman driving his dream car to the restaurant where he cleaned tables. I could not take another bite after hearing him say that. I was so proud of him, but he still ended up being the anti-hero in my life.

He made life really difficult for me. I studied in one of the best schools in the country but felt out of place. However, he was really proud of the fact that he was able to provide me with the best education possible. Yet, he was not aware that I instead wanted to be with him and by his side rather than be locked up in a residential school.

Every vacation when I came home, he always insisted that I spend my vacation focusing on my studies and not wasting my time. Yet, he was unaware that I wanted to spend that time with him, and I craved his love and affection. He used to work day and night to make sure that we lived a worldly life. He did not want me to endure anything that he had to face in his life. Yet, he did not know that I'd rather have him celebrate my birthday with me.

I should only study in the best school. I should only choose the most promising profession. I should only go to the best college. My Dad always wanted only the best for me but never asked me what I wanted. He wanted me to be a doctor, and I wanted to be a Lawyer. I wanted to be there right next to him and study, but he wanted me to attend a residential school and focus on my studies.

Sometimes I wonder if I failed him. I beat myself up thinking about it. I wonder if I made the wrong decisions. He failed to understand that all of us are born different. He failed to understand my strengths and weaknesses. He failed to realise that I wanted him to be by my side rather than him spending his money. When I was entering high school, my Dad wanted me to take science as my major. I disobeyed him, fearing my life and the consequences of studying something I am not good at. He was so disappointed that he did not talk to me for an entire day. Later, I changed my mind and decided to take science because of him. That was the first time he hugged me. It is a memory etched in my mind forever. I wanted more of that, but I am unlucky. I feel the universe conspired against me by giving me the best Dad in the world but making him hate me. He never acknowledged my success because he aspired for me to become something more. Sometimes, I feel he held me back in the process of pushing me to greatness.

I'd rather have my Dad talk to me daily than have a worldly life. I'd rather have my Dad to be my friend than the money he poured into making me comfortable. So I am willing to sacrifice the world to have him by my side. Instead, I'd celebrate the small success in life with him rather than the more extraordinary achievements without him.

Sometimes in life, I did things to prove him wrong. But, for the most part, we never saw eye to eye, and I wish this was not the case. I wish he appreciated me for being a successful Lawyer. I wish he had encouraged me to be a prosperous Author.

I want to hold his hands and tell him how much he means to me. I want him to know that he was my hero. I hope he understands that I am not like everyone else and that he trusts me and loves me. At times, even though my Dad sat across from me, I felt like I grew up without a Dad. He was there, but he wasn't. I love him, yet he is my life's greatest villain.

 

Happy Father’s Day!

Mike Ruban S/o Gnanapragasam