To the man who loved and lived-Part 2

My father was known as the most hands-on father. My mother vouches for it as well as my grandmother and aunts. He was equally involved in raising three of us. Back in the 80's it was not fashionable. Father's primary job was to work outside and provide for the family and mother was the primary caregiver. I am told he used to help mom as much as he could before going to office.

I remember learning alphabets from him. He made big chart with alphabets that was hung on the wall. His hand writing was the best in the whole wide word. He bought audio cassettes of rhymes; songs that croons weeks, months, numbers, animals, etc. I still recall those and can reproduce at a go.

The biggest gift he ever gave me was inculcating the habit of reading. He showed me the joy of reading books. It started with comics and then moved on to big fat books. Every month he invested certain amount of money on books. He himself was a voracious reader. We used to discuss those books to no end. He introduced me to wide variety of writers and never once tried to influence his favourites. He let me to have my own opinion. However, like every middle class father he never liked the interference of books in the middle of academic year.

He was a firm believer of almighty. When my 10-year-old self declared atheism for the first time, he suggested a few literature of atheists and rational thinkers. He never ever tried to change my belief. When I say I'm an atheist, the first question I get is "don't your parents tell anything?"

My father was an amazing writer. He wrote many Yakshagana (traditional theater of coastal Karnataka and Malnadu) prasangas (story, music, raga). He nurtured me to appreciate theater, dramas, music, in general art. The irony is being a patronage of art himself he was against the idea of I pursuing the art as my academic option. He emotionally blackmailed me to take the science stream after my board exam. I was too young to object and totally clueless of what I wanted to do. I admire this generation children who are so focused and single-minded in their educational choice. Father was heart broken when I scored less than what was expected of me. But never once he scolded or insulted me in anyway.

He was strict only on the matter of studies. Other than that he allowed me to do whatever I wanted to do. Probably I should have studied hard to meet the expectations. Anyhow after three-and-a-half decades I have realized perhaps that was my limitation. Have I failed my father? Maybe. Definitely yes. Now he is gone and I could never ask him.

Don't wait for the right time to ask any questions you have for your parents. Just do it. Then and there. You never know how much time they have.