Its my dad's birthday today, 13th of December. He would be 60 this year, the year of his retirment from his service in Central Railways. I used to call him Pappa and so did my brother and we never analyzed why we would call him Pappa but say Aai to my mother.
I think I was very close to my dad and I am so much like him in many ways. He taught me how to ride a bike and everytime i bike through the streets of Amsterdam, I feel his presence in the air. He taught me how to iron clothes, how to fold them beautifully and even today, I can find the peace of mind while ironing a pile of clothes. I often joke that I would make a terrible salesman in a saree shop as I focus all my energies on folding the sarees right.I start folding clothes when I go shopping and that leaves many salesman confused. He used to make beautiful bed, not a crease, perfectly tugged corners of the bed and he would always say that it was my mother who taught him to make the beds right.
Other quality that I inherited from him is his passion for cleaning the home particularly the kitchen. That is what I do the best, mopping and sweeping the floor, cleaning the tiles, cleaning the gas stove so well that I could use it as a mirror to see my reflection. That is my stress buster. My mom hates it when I start cleaning the kitchen because she thinks I am trying to tell her that she leaves the kitchen dirty but little she knows that it helps me connect with my dad and i can tell him my story while shining the kitchen marble platform.
My dad had wonderful handwriting and so do I. My signature is so much inspired by his that I could never make a mark of myself on my signature. He was the man who introduced me to the cursive writing. He was so fond of good quality pens, particularly fountain pens and I cant remember how many of his bautiful pens were dead due to my efforts to write with them. He firmly beleived that the ball point pens damage the writing and he never approved of me using black ink as he beleived that it turns life black. I must say I had facination of black ink and i did break his rule and started using black ink early on in my school days.
He was fond of firecrackers in Diwali but his little girl was so scared of those that he stopped buying crackers very early in my childhood. This is just one thing amongst many that he gave up for us. He had long, thin fingers and he played carrom very well. In our eyes, he was the champion. I have memories of many evenings where my mom and dad would play carrom and me and my brother would watch them play. My dad always won over my mom and that use to make him very happy. His little victory over mom in the game and I remember how I used to try and cast spell on the carrom board so that he wont win. Needless to say that my spells never worked but I think I learned to play carrom like him. Some of his strokes were so brilliant and even today, I can hear him exclaim in excitement on his own stroke.
Dad, I wonder how would you have felt on your retirement? I gave enough thought to mom's retirment and how to help her deal with the transition but till this morning I never thought about your retirment. I wonder why did I take it for granted that it would be a smooth transition for you. I remember walking to your office holding your hand when I was a little girl. I remember how proud I used to feel to be in the building of your office, the beautiful victoria terminus station, the red carpets on the stairs, the central dome of the building and the lions on the pillers. Your office was like a little palace to me then. I remember the day you took me to signal transmission department and showed me how do they control signaling to all those trains crisscrossing city of Mumbai. It was a moment of witnessing something exotic, something extra ordinary for me. But I never got to ride in the railway engine on Mumbai Puna route. Do you remember your promise? I used to feel your existance in every rail trip I took but Dad, really it is long long time I have been on rail journeys in India. I did remember you when I took the train to Germany and I wondered what kind of stories I would have told you about europian rail?
Pappa,do you know how your little girl is doing these days? I hope you do know as your girl is going places, making her mom proud, creating beutiful network of friends around her and she is also trying to help people. You are always with her whenever she is out there in the field and you are going to be there when she is going to start a new journey of her life with her man. She is already dreaming of her daughter and the beautiful new 'father-daughter' story she is going to relive through her daughter. Pappa, you were an amazing father. I am so happy to be your daughter, even though you could never master the art of telling me stories. but that is ok, you gave me so many beautiful qualities that those stories dont matter any more.Your daughter now tells many stories.
Well, I should be honest. when I was a little girl and when people use to recognize me as your daughter, I used to get mad at them, especially the way they ould abbreviate your name.'pamyachi mulagi'. I did not like that they would distort your name. I was also attacked in the school once by a teacher when I refused to say the middle name. I said I am Priya Satalkar and guess what I would always remain Priya Satalkar. I will never change my name. This name has become my identity, it is my trade mark, it is being me.
Observing Anasthesia and Andrea together yesterday, I missed you so much. I wanted to become a little girl again and I wanted to reach out to you. But then I know you are with me and it is very easy to reach out to you. I know you are within me and I was always part of your existance. I love you Pappa and happy birthday to you....
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