Adopted Father

Being son from a middle class family my father took loan for my education. And because of all support of my family, I am peacefully settled in US. One factor that lowers me down a bit is distance between me and my family. Two years back I lost my mother. It was a tragic turn in our lives. I tried my best to convince papa to move with me. But he wanted to say in the same house. It kind of keeps him close with Maa. So I decided to move back to India to stay with him. But who knew that a virus could handicap the world so much. The Lockdown and travel restrictions ruined my plan. 

My sister and her husband came to stay with papa. I felt horrible each day for not being with them in the most challenging time. But I was helpless.

It was busy day as usual, I was sandwiched between meetings and emotional pressure, a text from my sister added to the collateral damage.

Papa could barely breath last night and was admitted in ICU. Doctors were unclear about his position. After this news I could barely concentrate anymore. Miles away, with no scope to go and meet him , all I kept was praying and praying. But sometimes prayers do no work. It took not even 48 hours for God to make me orphan. Suddenly the hope to see papa burnt to ashes. I could not even be there for his last rituals. His absence killed me everyday. The layer of pain and guilt was growing heavier and thicker.

After a year on his death anniversary I flew to India. For the first time neither maa nor papa was there to enquire about my arrival. Life seemed to be stuck in a pond of sorrow. Even my Indian project got approved so I was supposed to be here for next few months. But I had no one to share this news with.

As I entered the home, each bit made me miss both of them more. As I went around gazing at each corner of the house, I felt the existence of papa and maa in everything. I took out a shirt from his closet and wore it. As I entered the Kitchen to make tea, the aroma of maa shielded me. She would give me tea with biscuits and namkeem all decorated in a big yellow tray. No matter how hard I try, the tea never tasted like Maa’s hand tea.

I spent the rest of the day sitting in the living room, staring at the big photo frames of maa and papa. Earlier Papa used to stare at Maa’s picture and within a quick span of time, Maa called him for their heavenly togetherness.

Evening my sister and her family arrived. It was for the first time after papa left us that I cried my heart out. For hours I and my sister rolled tears silently. Next day we accomplished all the rituals. My sister asked to take care of the house in my best possible approach. After all it was our last possession which had endless memories about the four of us. I stayed here and continued to work from home. Slowly things moved on. The house would give me comfort at times, but other times it would kill me with the aloofness and stillness. Few months later I decided to celebrate papa’s bday by cutting a cake with his few friends. They would always come on our special days. Unfortunately out of 4 friends only 1 was left. Kamal Uncle was a very modest and intellectual man and among the besties of papa. As I went to his house, it was strange to see his living room. Covid has taken away his son and daughter in law from him. For the first time I felt more throbbing pain seeing the young faces in the photo frames. Uncle cried a lot. He became too weak with a grown beard and coughing sound.

After an hour as I decided to leave, uncle hugged me and sobbed out his pain. Maybe just like me, he was letting out the pain. I without discerning anything further asked uncle to pack his necessary stuff and drove him to my house.

Initially we both were very quiet. I was not even sure if I would be able to serve him. But as time passed by we both became companions. Together we would remember numerous incidents of papa, recipes of Maa and their cheerful laughs. He would tell me about how much caring his son was. I would make soup for him and he would make adrak wali chai for me. In each other our pain was camouflaging. I was content a bit by finding his fatherly love and he was alleviated by seeing a son taking his care.

And this is how I adopted a father.