#30DaysToThirty: My Daddy Bestest

The daddy daughter relationship is one that has been written about, spoken about and talked about so much that that beauty of the relationship has been established. I'm not here to add a new dimension to that. On my daddy's 59th birthday I am here to just talk about him. About us.

I have the gift of the gab, no doubt in that. I get that from my mom. What I do get from my dad is my trusting nature, my attachment to a few select people, my sensitivity, my oh-so big nose and my dazzling smile.

 

I know my dad always says that he never really knew me till I was in my 8th. Maybe that is true. Partially because he was always so busy working, we never really talked. Plus there isn't much that a 10 year old can really talk to her dad about and connect with him. When he did a two year stint in Calcutta (yes it was still Calcutta then) is when we started to talk. I would regale him with my stories of school (I like to think he enjoyed hearing them as much as I liked telling him) and every day life. Distance does make the heart grow fonder. Even then, it was always me talking. I don't recall ever asking him about his work or how he was (narcissist that I was and am). 

I never really understood what he actually did. I still don't for a lot of the time. No matter how many times he explains to me how mutual funds and equity work, I still stare blankly like I am hearing it for the first time. When he starts to tell me how much has been invested in my name and how I need to be aware of how much insurance I will get when he 'kicks the bucket', makes me tell him to just shut up because who wants to hear their daddy talk about dying. He frowns at my inability to answer 15* 16 in under 10 seconds and cringes when he sees me counting on my fingers to add 234 + 18098 (yes my mental maths sucks and well lets be honest so does my written maths). I never follow cricket or tennis with him nor can I remember the exact date of when he fractured his ankle. He can never understand that I don't share his love for godhamai halwa (wheat halwa) or vazathandu (curry made from banana stem), and it puzzles him that honey and walnuts make me go yuck.

But I can tell you this. Over 30 years (well almost 30) my daddy has grown, I have have grown and our relationship had matured. We may not have a lot more things in common now, but we do connect way better. I don't understand what it is like to be a parent (not yet) but I do know why he worries more about me than my sister. I now know that the reason he hates to see me cry is not because he can't handle an emotional me, it is because he doesn't like to see me heart broken or disappointed. I know that he knows that I will always be delighted to cook for him when he comes to my place. I know that he has great taste in clothes and accessories and loves pampering me. 

No my dad is not my friend. I don't think parents should be friends. They should be friendly, yes. But they don't need to know about 'that time when you were so drunk you could barely stand' (chill dad, I don't have any such stories). They do need to know that they can trust you even if they aren't around. They need to feel like that they have brought you up with the right values. I know I have shown my dad that (well I hope so. Right daddy?)

My dad is my mentor, my protector, my knight in shining armour, my selfie taking partner, my shoulder to cry on, my guinea pig to try my cooking on, my ATM, a fan of my writing, an admirer of my style and most of all, the biggest pillar of support in whatever I do. 

I know that somethings will never change. 

Happy Birthday Daddy Dearest. 

Love 

Krupa