Talking about Fathers’ Day, I do not know what’s so special or fatherly about a Fathers’ day, but in a world where even every dog has its day (ahh!!! My puns suck big time, I know), I mean when there are days dedicated for everyone, from lovers to mothers, neighbors, chacha, mama, mausi, in-laws, outlaws, boss’ and ex-lovers, I did not see how fathers could be spared. So I decided to write a post about my dad. Not exactly a post about my dad, but definitely a post about my dad.
What a confusion!!!!
I was brought up with a typical middle class upbringing that included oodles of instructions about what to do and what not to do. The latter in fact vastly outnumbered the former. And my mom thought there is a universal antidote to every problem, or more correctly, to ensure that problems never ever arose in life. And the antidote was my dad’s face.
When I was a kid and I had wanted to break off the neck of that boy who borrowed crayons from me and then showed me his little finger for katti (a gesture used by silly little children, especially girls, to signify temporary discontinuity of friendship till parents intervened), my mom had told me- Don’t mess with him. Dad ka chehra yaad hai na? (remember your dad’s face?)
This way, my mom has strategically used the reference of my dad’s face for almost a quarter century now to keep me off the seemingly evils of life.
At four, I had wanted to ask some aunty why every time we went to their place, mom got the customary packet of mithai (sweets) for them while every time they visited us, they came empty handed. I was just curious about the mathematics of her hospitality. And mom had rolled her eyes and said- Remember your dad’s face?
At six, I had asked mom what was this whole story about the bol sakhi bol tera raaz kya hai song on Doordarshan and what exactly do those pills cure? Constipation? Headaches? Mom had rolled her eyes and said- You ask too many questions. Remember your dad’s face?
At ten, I had overheard Mary Aunty praising her big-butted fat ass daughter for nothing and I had wanted to make fun of her. My mom had rolled her eyes and said- Remember your dad’s face?
At twelve, I had wanted to ask my best friend if he has purchased a cycle. My mom had rolled her eyes and said- Remember your dad’s face?
At thirteen, we changed stamps and I had applied in a kids competition to get some money for purchasing some more of them (stamps and coins used to be traded as was in the barter system)I had asked my mom if I could apply to participate in the competition as well, just in case (the reason was instantly understated). My mom had rolled my eyes and said- Remember your dad’s face?
At fifteen, I had told my mom that many boys from my class had girl-friends, and if I could go look for a girl-friend, and also buy that blazer for my birthday. My mom had rolled my eyes and said- Remember your dad’s face?
At sixteen, I had asked my mom if it is okay for me to try smoking and drinking at least once, just for curiosity sake. My mom had rolled my eyes and said- Remember your dad’s face?
At twenty one, I had told my mom that Malayali girls were a pain and I would prefer a cute looking North Indian girl. I had also told her that I want to get married. My mom had rolled my eyes and said- You’ll marry at 21? Remember your dad’s face?
At twenty three, I had told my mom that I do not want to get married anymore, North Indian or not, and I want to go out, see the world, travel US and Europe and Africa. My mom had rolled my eyes and said- What? Remember your dad’s face?
You get the drift, right?
I tell you, my mom has used my dad’s face as a protection aid to prevent me from every screw-up in life. But then, come to think of it. It is the very face of my dad that is responsible for my dysfunctional love life at an age when my friends have an active love life, married or not. It is my dad’s face that has prevented me from the adventures of getting drunk and calling names to various uncles or aunties and their baby-elephants haathi's mere saathi's. Every time I saw a good looking seemingly date-able girl, I was programmed to see my dad’s angry face, with blood rolling out of his eyes in streams and his nostrils flaring like a buffaloes. Every time I was expected to genuflect to these door ke rishtedaars (long distance relatives) while I wanted to scream- fuck off!!!, I would see the frame of my dad, hands crossed, with a stern expression on his face. Not that my dad is like that, but that is how I am expected to picture him every time I crossed the so called lakshman rekha of maan maryada. What more, I have been expected to see my dad’s face for certain apocryphal involvements with people, where I had no role. Like when I called mom the other day and told her that “X” is going out with a girl, my mom had sternly said- Remember your dad’s face?
Clearly this was an implicit warning about how I should refrain from doing anything the “good boys” do not. But what am I supposed to do if a 30 year old man is going around with a 25 year old girl? He takes her out on long drives, pays for her dinner, buys her sexy clothes, allows her to use his credit card, and provides a shoulder every time she wants to lean on (which happens some hundred times a day). At least his life is not as love starved, colorless, and boring as mine. Ab dhalti jawani mein jo mila.
Most recent conversation-
Me- Mom remember my neighbor? Haan wahi. Arre haan haan wahi. He had a baby girl last week.
Mom- err… I did not know he was married.
Me- oh come on mom. How many times do I have to tell you that getting married and having babies are two totally unrelated events?
Mom- what??? He is not married? What a shame. The girl’s parents would be devasted.
Me (excited)- on the contrary, the girl lives with her parents in California, and they were with her during delivery. He will be in California for the next three months, living with the baby, the girl friend, and her parents.
Mom- you mean as ghar jamai?
Me- mom !!!! they are not married. How can he be ghar jamai?
Mom- Just remember your dad’s face.
Me- errr……What do I have to do in this? I am not the boy friend, am I?
Mom- I don’t know. Just remember your dad’s face, that’s all.
At this rate, I just hope I don’t remember my dad’s omnipresent face then. Yes yes then. Arre you got it right, I really mean then.
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