Art by the lovely Anamika KS
It had become my most awaited part of each day and I looked forward to it with a ritual-like reverence. Homework was done, my bag was packed for the next day of school, dinner was finished with each of our accounts of our day and I waited patiently for my mom to bring that steaming cup of tea. What usually followed was something she secretly wanted in, but this was our routine and no one, not even Ma was invited. Once that tray of hot, piping chai was transferred to our hands, Pa and I would slowly make our way to the terrace, careful not to spill anything because that cuppa played a very important role. Once there, we would settle down and taking small sips of that lovely tea, Pa would start his discourses while I engulfed myself with its fragrance, and his words. You see, while mom and I were busy covering the entire spectrum of school and adolescence that helped me get through each day, Pa focused on the long-term. We discussed a great deal about the king of Oman, his experiences back home, books, music and all the other what-nots! Also, the poet inside him would miraculously appear as he romanticized even mundane things like driving me to various tuitions after long hours of work. Eventually, I had far more tuitions to attend, and a lot less free time because of which the frequency of our 'ritual' gradually decreased until it finally stopped. More than 13 years later, there I was, in my husband's house and getting to know his parents, who had also become mine. And, guess who I had a new ritual with. Chai, however, had now become whiskey and Dad, who now became my Pa, would tell me about days when he was a young man or when my husband was a little boy. As for me, I now engulfed myself in this fragrance, and these words. Also, much to the annoyance of my husband, I always received a hearty Goodnight from Dad every night, one that was not once directed at his three sons. Once again, the ritual had to stop as my husband and I shifted to Bangalore and meeting Dad was reduced to a yearly affair. Over the course of time, I realized that both my fathers had a lot more in common. Both of them thought they always wanted sons. A daughter then, entered their lives and she would always remain in their hearts, be their baby girl. During the early days of their marriages, they were both opposed to the idea of women working. Years later, they let go of this mindset and believed in their daughter's decisions and prayed real hard to ensure I achieved what I wanted. They even went to the extent of stressing upon me, the importance of not only being independent but also loving what I do. They don't know it yet, but in the process of all this, they have mellowed a great extent, much to the relief of their wives and families! Fatherhood or for that matter every relationship, has a way of evolving with time and influencing us at our very core. Each of us here, surely have a ritual with that special somebody, which would now have become a thing of the past. It's time to pick up where we left. It's time we get that chai or whiskey or whatever it was, and settle down to discuss the what-nots, because frankly, we need it as much as they do.
