An Ode to my Dad, my hero

I don’t know what my first word was. Maybe, like most kids on the planet, I said da-da and you thought it meant daddy. Maybe after nine months, I said Papa, maybe not. It’s not important. What’s important is that I know the first words that come to my mind, when I’m happy. When I’m sad. When I need help. When I need guidance. When I need to hear a soothing voice at the end of the line. It is and will always be Papa.

I know you are a busy man. You missed most of my birthdays, you were always travelling on work. You were not there, when my first tooth fell, or my second. The tooth fairy came and gave me 100 rupees. You were out. I was angry then. I know better now. You were always working hard, so you could send me to the best college in the world…even when I did not know how to spell college.

But you were there when I needed you. When my first crush broke my heart, you were there telling me stories of your first crush and how she crushed your heart as well…strange you were 11 too!

You were there when I wore my first waistcoat. You told me that the bottom button is always left open. You were there, gently running your Mach 3 down my cheeks to get rid of my first stubble. You shaped my first moustache…you did not trust the barber to do it. I beamed with pride when you bought me my first Gillette shaving kit and taught me the nuances of shaving and importance of being well groomed.

You were there the day I left for college. You quietly slipped me my first pack of condoms. Does mama know you did that? You were there quietly packing my bags for my first overseas trip. You knew to pack an overcoat. I didn’t bother to check just how cold it would be.

All I want to say is Thank you, Dad, for being there!

This is a partnered post.