The Indian Father

Every fathers’ day, you’ll see posts on Facebook saying how great a dad is. It’s no big deal; it’s just one day. Some people don’t mind just clicking the like button and moving on.

But I do.

Every time I come across a post like that, I feel annoyed. I don’t have any foreign friends, so here’s what my Indian friends post:

father and daughter

The capitalized ‘K’ and the simplified ‘p’ will vary, but — you get the idea. I take one look at these posts, and I’m like, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Is that supposed to impress your father? I know it won’t impress my father and lot others’ too — from what I’ve seen.

Here’s how a typical Indian, or rather South Indian father would react: “What do you mean ‘I will find my prince?’ Does that mean that the right to choose a good man to take care of you doesn’t rest with us anymore?” — Fathers’ diction sounds awfully funny in a blog post, but that’s how they say it. Particularly when it comes to ‘lifelong commitment.’

OK, I’m no princess, so I’ll leave the prince and king alone. Let’s talk normal daughter’s life and arguments with her father. Here’s a regular day’s conversation.

When I want to go out with my friends, I have two options:

  • Not tell my father, and feel guilty.
  • Get his permission and go happily.

Yes, I have to ask him. Even though I’m twenty, my parents are responsible for me until I get married, after which the husband will take over the position. (I know, what a whole load of crap!)

So, here’s me asking for permission.

“Pa, I want to go out with my friends.”

He’ll look up at me, real slow. Our eyes meet. He heaves a sigh, (nope. Not exaggerating) and then asks, “Do you really, absolutely, have to go? Besides, can’t you go on another day? It’s already late…”

By the time he finishes, he thinks that he’s convinced me not to go. And unless you want a big row and a lot of racket that’s bound to wake your neighbours, who will later advise you on how wrong it is to go out with friends after 5, you’d rather cancel the plan. Or just your plan; your friends will still go without you. Never mind that they lied to their parents, never mind that their parents are miraculously not like yours. You’re just not going.

It’s your life. Deal with it.

Here’s the hardest part: you can’t completely blame the fathers. Being a father of a girl isn’t easy. Not in a place like India. You have to take a lot of bullshit, and it’s hard not to conform to society.

Here, we still have a society that considers a girl child as a pain. No, they love to have a daughter. Most people even keep their girl babies nowadays; killing is slowly being forgotten. You’ll even see cases where parents hope for a girl child.

But girls are also an added responsibility. According to our society, a girl brings out the best in a father. He’ll take on responsibilities, and try to prove the differences between a father and a dad.

All these are just what the society expects of a man when he becomes a girl’s father.

The father doesn’t ask for these expectations. Neither does the daughter. But everyone expects that, because that’s what real gentlemen do. They pamper their daughters and help them in life. It starts with homework, goes on to the subject she chooses in high school, and finally ends with the person she marries. That’s how a father should act.

Society laughs at any father who lets his daughter experiment in life, or something like this: “How can you let your daughter go trekking alone with her friends? There’ll be boys, how can you be sure she’s safe?”

That’s enough for anyone to panic, and my father is a simple man. So wherever I go, he needs me to call him back once I’ve safely locked myself inside the house.

Safety is a big issue, and it isn’t just in fathers’ heads. It’s in the news as well. Girls abducted, harassed and raped randomly, throughout the country. No place is safe. Not Delhi, not Bangalore, not Chennai. If metropolitan cities are bad, then there’s no asking what’s going on in small towns and villages.

That’s why fathers are so overprotective. And it just breaches the father-daughter relationship. Any daughter will be disappointed with her father when he deprives her the freedom she deserves. Being a girl, and knowing the outside world isn’t safe enough, is just depressing.

So a father’s next best option would be to get her married off as soon as possible. As much painful as it is, fathers and society look at it as a way of ‘ridding the responsibility of taking care of a girl.’

Society to the aid. Again! “How much dowry can you afford for your daughter?”

Oh yeah, because sending a girl over to your house to serve your family is just isn’t good enough as gold.

A lot of fathers just convince themselves against the dowry argument. “It’s our tradition. Don’t think of it as dowry, think of it as a contingency plan. Your daughter can use this money when she urgently needs it.”

Poor fathers. They just give in to society’s pressures, and end up a disappointment, even to the daughters they gave up so much for.


Any non-Indian fathers out there? Tell us how life’s like for you. I’m curious.

Just Another Day – Just Became Lovely

It’s thanks to Mia, who’s nominated me for the “One Lovely Blog Award.” And I can’t say how surprised I was when I saw that. It lifted my mood.

One lovely blog award

Things have been going downhill for a while and nothing seemed right. And when you’re sulking around, it’s a pleasure to have something like this happen to you. But I assume news like this, is great to anyone, anytime.

So, without further ranting, the rules of this award:

Thank the person who nominated you for the award — Check

Display the One Lovely Blog Award on your blog — Check

Share 7 things about yourself — Uh oh, this is not my area.

Nominate 15 bloggers you admire and let them know by commenting on their blog — 15, huh? What do you say we bend the rules? They’re more like guidelines anyway. (Yup. Pirate.)

About me:

  1. I believe my About page should give you a better understanding about myself than this post ever will.
  2. I’m currently re-reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, for the 7th time. It’s an all-time favourite.
  3. I own more books than I can read.
  4. Of late, I’ve taken a sudden craving for fruits. Apples and pears in particular. And this comes from someone who used to hate fruits of any kind.
  5. I write a lot of my blog posts when I’m supposed to be working. Like for instance, now.
  6. I love coffee. I’m adventurous about trying out anything that’s coffee flavoured. Hot, cold, cake, chocolate, espresso, sugarless – everything.
  7. I can whistle tunes quite well. (I can’t believe I’ve never mentioned it here before! Thanks again Mia, for giving me a reason to remember it!)

*Bonus: I’m not a fan of hearts, and so I’ve used a non-heart image of the One Lovely Blog Award.

My nominees:

  1. Sam, over at Sammi Talk – It’s been long since I’ve met someone younger than myself impressing me as much as Sam did. She wants to be published before she turns 18. Well, what can I say? All the best!
  2. Louise, over at Life in Poetry – Beautiful. No easier way to say it. Sometimes the best of things are shortly said. Enough said.
  3. Lewis, over at Gosketching – This is the first fully sketching blog I’m following, and I don’t sketch. Lewis’s work impressed me so much that I wanted them in my inbox regularly.
  4. Aadi, over at Snapshots – A beautiful photo blog from an equally good writer. Keep ’em coming Aadi. I’m looking forward for more.
  5. Mohsin, over at Vivid Perceptions – He’s a versatile blogger. He publishes essays, random observations, photos and of course, great poetry.
  6. Liz, over at Verbal Dreaming – Another of those blogs that attracted me because of the name. But it’s just not that; she works words in a unique and enjoyable way.
  7. Alex, over at Cherchez La Lumière – What happens when you meet someone who’s living the life you adore? You follow. Alex travels, photographs and posts them for your pleasure, and a little bit of envy.
  8. Cecilia, over at Fantasy Transcendent – A highly relatable blogger. Her poems gently knock at your memories, making you shout out,”me too!” Also, she has a queer set of characters for her short stories. Always a pleasure to read.
  9. Stuart, over at Story Shucker – I’ve enjoyed Stuart’s stories for a long time. He’s got a large readership, so he might get a lot of nominations like this but I wanted to share this with him as well. Thanks for all those great stories, Stuart.

Why I’m no Planner

If you’re anything like me, you hate planning. You’re not good at it. None of your feeble attempts at planning ever worked, and you’re hanging in the brink of giving up.

Sounds familiar? You’re a lot like me.

Whatever I do, I do. Just dive headfirst into it. Yes, I’ve got hurt a lot of times, but I’ve learnt a lot too. But somehow, I never learnt to plan ahead, and it’s not something I plan on doing.

diving headfirst

And by planning, I don’t mean the big stuff. I do that. It’s planning the small, everyday stuff, that puts me off.

Why should we plan anyway? If it’s a trip, I pack my bag the previous night, or rather, I hastily stuff my bag with the necessities before my father sees my packing and planning. Thing is, my father is a huge planner. He needs to know where we’re going, how we’re getting there, and what exactly we’re going to do when we get there.

Sometimes, it’s acceptable. But mostly, I just get annoyed.

Where’s the fun? Oh yes, at the park at 4.00pm, as planned.

I’m definitely not that person. I mean, we can always figure it out on the way, right?

I walk out of the office and onto the street before I check whether I have money for public transport. If I do I take the share auto, otherwise I just walk. It’s that simple. It’s the same with my meals. I don’t care what I eat, until I have to eat. I don’t care about what I’m going to wear to that wedding I might be attending in 3 months’ time. But no, when I told my mother that I might go, she started worrying about what I’d wear. It doesn’t matter. At least not for now.

There’s a kind of unknown beauty in uncertainty. I like embracing it. Not just for the reasons Lifehack expert Kayla says, but also because there’s no point in thinking we’ve got it all covered. Because truth is, we haven’t, and never will.

On the train…

People rushing by,
Fields of bean n soy,
Scent of fresh made cake,
All smiles, not so fake.


I’ve signed up for a new online course from the University of Iowa: How Writers Write Poetry. It’s a six-week long course, and that’s my submission for the first class. It was a pretty long video, but it was totally worth it and really enjoyable.

If you’re a poetry fanatic, check this course out.

There’s more from where that came from. How Writers Write Fiction – Starts September 27th 2014.

And hey! If you decide to join either of these courses, do let me know.

In a world like this…

2_face

“How can you be so careless?” Jim shook his head clearly annoyed. “Clear that up, now” be barked at his wife.

She did. How clumsy of her, to drop that new porcelain vase that Jim’s mother had given them.

Jim was fuming, but Martha couldn’t quite understand why. He hadn’t even looked twice at that vase. He hated his mother’s floral taste, and had reproached her when she had brought it in. Martha decided not to say anything. Jim was in a bad mood. Now was not the right time to talk household affairs.

She sighed and got back into the kitchen. The dishes were waiting. Jim’s behaviour didn’t bother her in the slightest. She was used to it. Over these five years of marriage, the only thing that surprised her about Jim was the day he walked into the front door and flung his bag in a corner in anger. It had been only a month since their wedding day, and Martha was keen to build a steady relationship.

She had approached Jim who sat in the couch, cracking his knuckles and biting his lower lip.

“You want anything to drink?” she asked smiling.

He had looked at her. His eyes boring into hers. That’s when she noticed how frightening he looked. She had backed a few steps, the smile on her face fading.

He rose without saying a word. He turned to face her squarely and asked in a malicious tone, “A drink?”

He paused, for the anger to sink in. It didn’t take long for Martha. She gulped hard. Then, he continued “Get out of my face.” She made to leave when he added harshly, “Quick!”

That was the first time he had yelled at her. And also the last time he had surprised her.

She smiled at the dishes as she thought of that day long ago. How frightened she had been!

“I’m leaving for work!”

“Have a nice day.” Martha instinctively came out to see him off. She had learnt to speak in flat tones.

Jim reached his office. A huge pile of papers awaited him, just like each day.

“Late again, McGruff!”

Jim knew that voice. He had been yelled at in the same tone for five years now.

“I’m sorry, Boss. I’ll get to work.” Jim replied in a low voice. He cast his eyes down, and walked towards his seat uncomplaining.


I’ve seen similar incidents everywhere. We tend to take our anger out on people who don’t deserve it. Sometimes, we can’t help it. And so, this is my post for the Weekly Writing Challenge: Worlds Colliding. I know I’m late, but I wanted to publish it anyway.