Here’s Subhajit’s homage to his father, his best friend, on Father’s Day as part of special feature in Different Truths.
“Every child grows into a holistic person when he is under the loving wings of both the parents. Many a times, one of the wings is just snatched away from that little one, to fend for himself. Every child’s destiny is carved and created by his parents whereas sometimes this Destiny is left to the Universe to be etched.” ~ DivineCrystalAngel
Like all others, my Baba (Daddy, father) was also a gentleman next-door. Through smiles and tears, he kept the house in a festive mood. I recall him being my best friend prior to my school friends. How he took me every Sunday to the local market, bargaining and buying lots of fishes and vegetables, how we went out every afternoon to a mishtir dokan (sweetmeat shop) sitting in the front on his bicycle. Oh, these are only memories now! He was that person without whom my life would have been an empty urn.
“Baba” was not only a foodie but also loved inviting others to join him. I distinctly remember my Maa’s students and almost all from our neighborhood being invited to have the Bhog of Lakshmi and Saraswati Puja, every year. Actually, he loved being with people, especially with his family and in a short span of time, he created a lot of memories.
We used to spend the evenings till midnight, visiting all the marquees during the four days of Durga Puja. It was a practice that on the Dashami, the final day, we went out for lunch. His favorites being alu-posto and all fish based cuisines were a must on his plate during festivals.
Time does engulf everything. I can’t think of how those beautiful days passed away in no time. I still visualise him feeding the parrots every morning and evening. Baba was an animal-lover. We had about twenty parrots that he cared for every day, by himself. I watched him playing with Jackie, our pet dog on the terrace at dusk. I saw him watering the plants in our garden; laughing aloud and imitating the bulky jokers at the circus; having his favorite fruit, mango every afternoon, when he was at home.
I can still feel him when I read his old dictionary, his books of homeopathy, when I put the earpiece of his stethoscope in my ears. It is like he is still there in dreams and reality but can only be felt, neither touched nor seen.
Memories are every single day that had been spent with Baba. Moments were very few but I have no issues with them. What hurts the most is that he left with an unfinished story he was to finish the day when he went back home. Sighs! It would never be completed; all stories don’t have an end. In few words stating the impact of those days is next to impossible. Still, I would add a few lines, for you Baba:
I miss you in the pattering monsoon,
In spring’s colors, in winter’s coffee,
In summer’s solace, the ripe mangoes
I miss you Dad in the six seasons.
Wish you were with us, here.
Seen and not just felt, a presence.
Unknown of your whereabouts, I can only say:
Wish you all peace, Happy Father’s Day!
Pix from Net.
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