Eyes closed, I stand.
The wind bounces,
off my hair
suddenly stops.
Power gone.
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:
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:
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.
It was time.
He knew what to do. He’d accept whatever came out of it. He stepped forward, then stopped. It had seemed easier in his mind.
He needed to act fast, before he could change his mind. Breathing deep, eyes tightly closed, he dove.
The crowd cheered their olympian.
The story above is for my Flash Fiction series . The second in what I hope to be a long running series.
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.
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.
I went for the movie for one reason. One man: Hugh Jackman.
And when I left the theatre, my thoughts were exactly this, “What I want is what I got” (Westlife is so incredibly relatable) I was awed. And so was the rest of the audience. I didn’t know I was the only one. Until… Bobby’s entry was met with rapt silence, Charles Xavier’s entry was met with more silence. And the Wolverine’s entrance was marked by a cigar and loud applause, coupled with cheers.
Half (more than that, really) of the audience was there for the same reason we were: Hugh Jackman.
Incredible it was. Not just Hugh Jackman, but also the dialogues, and the scenes. There was a brilliant scene of Quicksilver as a kid. (Magneto’s son) That scene was the hardest I laughed in a long time.
The attitude was unmistakably brilliant. Not the Wolverine’s, that’s obvious. I mean the kid’s. It shook me, what a little attitude can do. A piece of mind, you know.
My popcorn lay forgotten. It was the first time that had happened, and mind you I love popcorn. And it was a 3D movie. I didn’t see that coming.
The glasses were too big, even for the bespectacled me. But I wasn’t in the mood to complain. I went to have fun and fun, I had. Good day out in the city, with great company, a perfectly brewed cold coffee and an out-of-this-world movie experience.
Good day? Hell yes!
P.S: Here’s a little something I brought back from the movie. Particularly for the X-Men fans.
What would you do if you needed to locate a mutant and Prof X’s powers were out of the question?
Use a phonebook.