A Memoir of My Father

I always talk a lot about my mom and her influence on me. Also, so many of my friends don't even know much about my father. Some don't even know I have a father. The relationship with him was chaotic and complex, which I can't understand until now. Yet, I want to try bringing it out in words at least once. 

My father was a born-with-silver-spoon guy who never learned the value of money or any material property. As far as I understand, it has something to do with his bringing up. He used to be a brat in his teens and failed in his pre-college. His parents wanted to punish him by giving him more responsibility. They sent him away from home to learn the family business in his native town when he just turned 18. Instead of learning it or listening to his peers, he started doing it without experience. He earned lots of money at a very young age without hard work. Of course, my dad was not an exception. He had all the wrong friends who helped him misuse the money he earned. He was into hunting, racing, betting, drinking, smoking, drugs, and women. He was revered as boss by all people in the town for his family's riches and legacy. Unfortunately, he had no one to advise him to plan and invest for his future. He is very emotional and impulsive by nature. He trusts people blindly, and he doesn't calculate while giving to people. He loves to give until his last breath and in return he expects only kind flattering words that he never gets from any of his close family members, and so he cares very less about them! 

His parents decided to get him married once he turned 27. They found him a nineteen-year-old naive girl who knew nothing beyond her parents and siblings. Both my parents never talked with each other before their wedding. But when my dad spoke to my mom, instantly, my mom fell in love with him. Indeed, he is dark and handsome with a perfect shape till he dies. He wins everyone with his conversation; he is softspoken and has perfect diction to grab people's attention and make people believe he is the best human being one ever knows. My dad reads loads of books voraciously from his school days. Therefore, he can easily spellbind a person with his conversational skills. As he grew old, the genres he read changed, but he never quit reading. My father also fell in love with my mom for her innocence. Of course, their youth blinded them and put them in an aura of love until I was born, which was just a year after their wedding!

As a daughter, I know how poles apart my mom and dad were. Everything was different: from the value system, faith, and goals to dreams, hobbies, and lifestyle. My dad had so much exposure compared to my mom. It was easy for him to get away with all his dark desires as my mom was innocent for a very long time. I taught her so many things myself as she wasn't good enough to understand a touch of sarcasm. She takes everything personally and seriously all through her life. But, she is immensely talented in her own way. Let me focus on my dad! My dad never was honest with us till he died. Despite knowing many things he was doing behind us, I couldn't loathe him.

However, I was in cloud nine for almost two decades of my life. Until I turned 20, I was mesmerized by his story-telling and knowledge-sharing skills. I used to have a telepathic connection with him. Even without any physical communication, I used to be aware of the day he comes home. Yup, when I was ten years old, my dad ran away, as he had lost all his money in business. That was when my mom first learned that he had done so many things without her knowledge. He even sold off a couple of properties without her knowledge. We were literally on the road, and my mom decided not to stay in her parents' home as her siblings were still unmarried. She rented a house close to my grandparents' house with the help of her jewellery. She lived independently and worked super hard to earn sustainable living for me. Now you know why I keep bragging about my mom a lot.

After three years, my mom found that my father lived in a neighboring state through her distant family members. Then, somehow, they sorted things among themselves, and my dad started to visit us twice or thrice a year. Whenever he came home, he used to bring lots of goodies that included branded nail colors, 5-6 song cassettes, tape recorders, and so on. He used to take us out for dinners and cinemas. The word 'fun' makes sense to me only because of him.

As far as I remember, my dad and I were friendly to each other. Until we were in his town, which was until my 5th grade, my father used to tell me bedtime stories every night except for the days he stayed out for business sake. He taught me to read, watch movies, listen to songs, decide on things, live in the moment, and understand many other life philosophies. I used to look at him as a wonder. He never fed me once or even took me to the hospital. He never got me any clothes or school books. He never sat with me to finish my homework or any school work. He never accompanied me to any of my school events.

However, he made up for everything just by his mesmerizing way of telling stories. He used to narrate all types of stories from Vikramathiya, fantasy, epic, drama, and horror. Sometimes, he cut a story without completing it and made me beg for the climax. He used to steal food from my plate, hide my things and buy me unhealthy food such as snacks and chocolates. He was the only fun I had growing up. I didn't know anything about my family's financial conditions, but I had sophisticated life. I saw them quarreling with each other many times and cried a lot without understanding. My dad never yelled or used any filthy language at my mom, but he bet her a lot. On the other hand, my mom cursed loudly out of disappointment and pain. I used to think my mom was the reason for every quarrel at home, and she deserved the beating. Gosh! I used to believe and love my dad so much. 

My mom never enjoyed watching movies or series or even listening to music. She was always serious about cooking, cleaning, washing, taking care of me, and she was always the bad cop in my eyes. Until I turned 20, I did love my dad more than my mom. What happened when I turned 20? My mom was diagnosed with an ovarian cyst that weighs 2.4 Kgs. She got admitted to the hospital, and my dad didn't come home and take care of medical expenses. At the time, we were not talking to my mom's parents, due to which we moved and stayed a little far from them too. I was not able to reach out to them as well. I was roaming on the roads not knowing what to do. Luckily, one of my classmates helped me with the money as her father was a banker.

Then it dawned on me that I was living in a fantasy that my father told. He had other family or relationships where he lived. As my mom begged not to disappoint me, he visited us once in a while, and he didn't contribute financially to the family. It was a devastating truth that I didn't take it easy. In fact, after that, I stopped believing in people. I became an introvert for a while. I stopped spending time with him while he was visiting, and eventually, the frequency of his visits also reduced. I never confronted him with all the disappointment I had until two months before his death. 

However, the story never ended there. We received a call from my dad after seven years. He said that he had lost all the money to a financial shark, and then he asked whether we wanted him or not. He also said he had plans to go to the Himalayas for spiritual enlightenment. However, we decided to take him back into the family permanently. He did come home without a single penny in his pocket. Fortunately, I started earning and left the home a year ago to work in a metro city. My mom forgave him, and we never questioned his private life. We never knew anything about his other relationships or family until today, and he kept it as a mystery until he died.

Of course, he sold all his properties, gave away all the money, and started to work as a sales executive in an optical showroom. The conflict between dad and mom was constantly growing, so they decided to live separately. My dad rented a room in the next street and lived there. I had always been talking to him. I never mustered the courage to bring up the ugly truth as he never even used filthy language in front of me. We had diplomacy that we couldn't break. We kept our rapport superficial talking about politics, movies, books, and music. Last year around the same time, I got a call from him that he was sick. I took him to the hospital on my bike, and he was diagnosed with a heart attack. I got him admitted and took care of him and the expenses with the help of a credit card. Doctors operated and fixed a couple of stents. Honestly, I was numb towards him all through hospitalization. I was angrier at myself for taking care of him.

I was emotionally not ready to listen to his stories anymore, which I regret now. After a month of his discharge, I confronted him and made him cry. I vented out all the things I held back for almost 17 years. I am not able to forgive myself for doing that. I regret confronting him and putting him in an uncomfortable position, especially when he was weak and sick. I also feel that I had confronted him before he left me. 

How much ever, my mom brought me up. I never picked her talents, aspirations, and ambitious nature, but alternatively, I resemble my father's characteristics. I always lean towards poetic, peaceful, and self-reliant life. Those days, people in rural India didn't even have access to record players, but my father listened to ABBA and Boney M records when I was young. He taught me to understand the lyrics when I was 8 or 9. I still love the stories I heard from him, and I can easily comfort people with my sweet talks. I owe my taste in art, literature, and music to him. He wrote letters to me. I wrote back him and learned my writing skill from him. I live in my fantasy world believing nothing is wrong, and everything and everyone are sweet and kind. I don't get too close to people to witness their ugly truth. Even when I notice an ugly side of people, I won't confront them, and I move away from them pleasantly. My father always kept things clean and lighter. He is still a mystery to me; even when I confronted him with anger, he broke down into tears but never spilled a word. Now, he is no more, and all I remember about him was the happy and goofy moments that make me smile.

But, I didn't have any real emotional moment. Hence, I don't miss him terribly as I miss my mom. He always stayed like water on lotus leaves. He adhered to the 'seize the moment' principle. It is inspirational when we look at such free-willed characters in movies. But, it is damn complicated to have one such person as an integral part of one's own family. I don't truly understand whether I love or hate him. It's just complicated!