Papa, we need to talk on this, we need to talk about you & only you for a while, we need to talk about your setbacks, we need to talk about your success, we need to talk about your married life, we need to talk of your fatherhood, we need to talk of your rapport with your mother & siblings, we need, we need to talk about you at first place.
When was the first time you felt proud about me being your son, what has been your driving force behind all of your self goals. Don’t you feel left behind in this all for feminism world? How long it has been that you haven’t cried, last time I saw you cry was at loss of grandfather. I know you’re an supreme actor, but even they get their fare share of e expressing themselves.
I know you were hurt tremendous when you heard of me of giving up on something, but there wasn’t any single clue of that feeling, instead you advocated go where your heart takes you. I know we don’t share a rapport as eventual as a father son duo, but the feelings are still the same, the stories are still the same.
We don’t talk for hours, we don’t hug each other so often, we share that old school montony, but then there is this art of knowing everything without directly knowing. We sort of play hide & seek with emotions, you hide away from me when you feel low, I seek for you when I feel low, which is very often.
I still remember my childhood through this picture, when I used to stand near staircase & waited for your to leave, so that I would ask for a rupee, which back then fethched four kismis candies, but then you being father, you offered ne with pocketful of kismis candies & on top of that an extra rupee to have that finger papad. I want to share this kind of bond with my son, I want to be a father like you & I expect my son to be a son like you.
Dad I want our call logs to be more frequent, I want them to gossip of our long duration calls. I know ours is not a cool dad son stuff, we’ll never share a drink together, or talk about girlfriends & sex, we are typically orthodox, but there is this magical beauty in the Orthodox bonding, bonding which is sort of passive, which is sort of caring behind the person, which is sort of emotions forever stored in heart.
Dad, I wanted you to know that there is this impeccable of a bond we share, is no less than an old time celluloid. I want you to scold me more often, to maybe vandalize my arrogance, my ego, my over smartness, my every evil. I want you still to consider me as a child, which I look though through my actions.
It’ll be selfish enough if I don’t return you something in return of what I want, I want me to more often make you proud, I want to more often talk to you, I want to be father like you & also a son like you, & also a husband like you, & also a brother like you, I want to be all of you.
All I want to tell you is, I’m still the same, the child standing near staircase, though I not demand now a rupee & kismis chocolates, but I’m still the same, I still fumble most of the times, I still need your hand holding my finger & listening to your stories of vikram & betal, & all those victories of good over evil. I wish to be as good a storyteller as you’re. I want a hug from you so firm, I what that spark to rejuvenate the orthdox father son duo we’re used to.
Lots of love ♥️
Becoming AB 