Beloved Father...

My dad used to say, “Pain is an interval between pleasures”. I never really understood the meaning of this when he first told me. Like always, I just considered this to be a start to another one of his sermons. But, today like most other sermons. I understand what he meant. I miss him a lot these days. I had him by my side, telling me right from wrong, when I was totally confused, as a teenager. But, like most other teenagers, I was closed to advice. Today, when I understand what he meant, I wish he was here, telling me what should be done.

With age comes experience, and my dad had a lot of that. I was never too attached to my family, and this was quite evident to my dad. He always let me do what I wanted, and when mom tried to question me, he stopped her, saying, “he will find his own way, he is smart”. I wish he was right…

There are a few moments with my dad which are landmarked in my memory. When I was really small, mom had a massive heart attack and was bed ridden. Dad had to come and pick me up from my granddad’s place. No one was too sure of what would happen to mom. My dad saw me and started crying, he kept whispering in my ear, “what will happen to you now, who will bring you up”. Seeing him, I started crying too, more ‘cause I couldn’t understand what he meant. Today I do. He didn’t want me to miss anything that a child would need.

There was this time as a kid, when I told him that one day, I will grow up and read all the books in the world. He must have been the proudest father in the world that day. For years after that he continued bragging about my innocent resolve. Then there came a day, when I told him that I didn’t want to study anymore and I wanted to work. Again, I saw tears in his eyes. I was ashamed of myself but too proud to admit it. I fulfilled my adolescent resolve and broke his heart. Today, when I want to study and need him to guide me, he is no longer there.

It was September ’05, a very gloomy month, doctors had given him a month. Mom asked me to come home for a few days, so I could spend some time with him. He was being shifted in and out of hospitals and could barely sit up. He had lost close to 40 KGs. I knew what his condition was, and was reluctant to go home, hoping he would get better some day and I wanted to see him then. I was used to his sense of humor, and mom had told me how grumpy he had become. He was an energetic man who loved to talk and entertain people. But, he was depressed and didn’t like to meet anyone in his current condition.

I had never heard him complain earlier and always spoke of finding solutions. But, now when I spoke to him over the phone, he always complained about how rude the nurses were at the hospital and how the pain increased everyday. Not once did he ask me if I was coming. I knew why, he knew, seeing him in his current state would sadden me, and he didn’t want that.

I reluctantly went home. He was admitted in the hospital and was on saline and oxygen all the time. I had heard that he could barely get up, and spoke with a lot of effort. The chemotherapy and heavy dose of medication had weakened him. As the cancer had spread to his stomach, he could not digest food either, so his only source of energy was the saline. I didn’t tell him I was coming and wanted to surprise him. When I entered his room, he was a new man. He found all the energy to get up from his bed, and give me a hug with his frail figure. The smile never left his face. He was still proud of me and it showed. He asked everybody else to leave and wanted to speak to me. He told me a lot of things. About how mom would need me more than anybody else, when he was no longer there. That she would break down and I would need to support her. How I would have to form one unit with my sisters and take care of mom. He spoke for hours everyday, while I was there. Those were our last conversations and he made a lot of sense...

How I wish he was here today, to tell me what to do, 'cause i find myself totally confused again, like in my teenage days...