Soumya walks down the memory lane and shares a unique experience with his daughter. An exclusive for Different Truths.
I have just realised what makes it all worthwhile.
The agony and ecstasy of dating, climaxing in the frightening and optimistic institution of marriage, the exhilarating and excruciating experience of fatherhood, the sheer joy and heartbreak of bringing up kids, seeing them grow up from the helpless baby to adorable toddler, a hero-worshipping child, irritating tween and insufferable teenager.
We had gone through the gamut with our elder daughter, who has now entered college and exited the teens, and in her full-time preoccupation with creativity, politics, activism, recreation, socialising and academics, (in that order), has ceased to notice that we exist.
We had gone through the gamut with our elder daughter, who has now entered college and exited the teens, and in her full-time preoccupation with creativity, politics, activism, recreation, socialising and academics, (in that order), has ceased to notice that we exist.
She, however, has handed over her unfinished task of educating papa to her younger sibling, who has just entered her teens.
She works hard to make me a more sensitive, liberal, metrosexual, “with it” man, and root out all subconscious traits of MCP and other uncool traits.
She works hard to make me a more sensitive, liberal, metrosexual, “with it” man, and root out all subconscious traits of MCP and other uncool traits.
Quite used to constructive criticism, I was, therefore, extremely surprised to hear her wondering comment – “Papa you can write!”
Investigation revealed that she had come across our friendly neighbourhood little magazine, which had carried a story by me.
Investigation revealed that she had come across our friendly neighbourhood little magazine, which had carried a story by me. Flattered by being asked for a contribution, and too lazy to do anything new, I had rehashed an old, published story, which was the one she had found.
Encouraged by her interest, I dug out an ancient scrapbook, where I had collected copies of various “middles” published in Delhi dailies like TOI, HT and Indian Express, mostly before she was born.
An engrossed half hour later, she came up to me and peremptorily ordered me to start writing again.
An engrossed half hour later, she came up to me and peremptorily ordered me to start writing again. This was the best criticism or review I had ever received.
So, I wrote what I felt at that moment – “I have realised what makes it all worthwhile….”
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