The Unsent Letter

Dear Dad,

Don’t read this!

There was a child who played with the soil and believed he could separate the small pieces of rocks so that the trees you planted wouldn’t get hurt. There was a child who stood in the rain to watch the birds in the nests you made. You said, the cats would find and eat them. I loved our birds, may be that’s why I could never love cats!

The shallow mud, the flowers of rose, the snakes that lurked between the stems of the baby plants – everything seems like a snapshot from another life. I remember stepping on a snake once, while running barefoot with my friends. I felt sorry for hurting it. I think it realised and didn’t bite me! I also remember the yellow butterfly whom I ran after on Holi to spray colour at; I thought it was playing with me, because it was already yellow! I thought someone might have put colours on its wings. I realise I was a nature’s child. Oneday, I sneaked into your closet to find a perfume. I hadn’t learned to pronounce ‘avenue’. It was not until some years later when I learned it was Park Avenue. In an instant it became my favourite perfume, and still is!

Don’t read this, because you don’t remember the child who wrote his first poem about you while you were in America and read it to you on a trunk-call. I remember your voice sounded so clear, as if you were sitting right next to me. Mom said it’s a big country with better telephone lines. I was fascinated. Later that year I saw a photograph of you standing in front of the twin towers of World Trade Centre. I fell in love with America, I wanted to go to the United States and live there with my family. When things went wrong, I saw the towers burning on BBC news, thankfully you were here but a part of my dreams also burnt that day! The dream of being there, standing right in front of the twin towers. Do you remember the shoes and the gifts you got for me from Florida? There was a magic sketchbook, a pencil as big as a baton, a mini dictionary and chocolates. I remember the smell of the chocolate gift box. Mom said, I was not supposed to open the gift box and wait for it. Honestly, I was more interested in the one dollar bill and the few cents which I found in your wallet! I could feel America when I grasped those tightly in my palm.

When I was in Singapore in 2019, I took a selfie in Raffles Place with the tall business centres behind me. I wanted to match up with the memory of the twin towers I had of you! I never uploaded the picture on social media, because it didn’t quite match the memory.

You know, when you tear papers apart, the torn pieces reflect moments from your past. You look at them and try to complete the half-written words. In a not-so-different way, I remember pieces of the past with you. The only difference is, I never try to complete the lost words. I think I like it that way. Because, I am no more a nature’s child I believe. When you start getting scratches on your body, the air burns your skin. You try and cover yourself up. When you left, I did the same inside my mind. I was paranoid & it became a part of me.

I heard from my friends, that their fathers became friends after they were in college or high school. I experienced it for the first time in Delhi. One evening, I and Kishore uncle, Ishaan’s father, were alone at home. He grabbed a bottle of beer and offered me a drink. I could not take a sip until he was out of my sight – may be because of a fatherly respect. But I later realised, I didn’t know how to react to that. It had never happened with me before that day. I would call it ‘lack of experience’. I used to talk to uncle about work, and he was the best guide I could have during my days in Delhi and at times in Kolkata. Unfortunately, we lost him to Covid19 last year.

Anyway, so another year later in 2014, this gentleman offered to buy me a ‘Mars’ chocolate. No one has ever done that for me! I mean, I was astounded. I couldn’t accept his gift, but he put it in my pocket anyway. This gentleman later became the person I call my father(in-law) today. I watched how he spoke to his daughter, cared for her. I was just happy to realise that fathers love and care like that! Till date, I struggle to talk to him because honestly, I don’t know how to treat or talk to a ‘father’. Are there chains of commands, or protocols of speech, or anything else! I don’t know. You know dad, don’t read this, because you weren’t there to teach me how to be a man, when I needed that the most. I never realised when I was under peer-pressure and which were my own decisions. By the time I actually started understanding that, I wasn’t a kid anymore.

Satish papa had his birthday in January. Luckily I was there along with my mother and cousin. When he cut the cake, I stood there blankly behind him. I was very happy but I didn’t know how well of a son am I to him. I wanted to believe that I was good enough. But life’s weird! Till date my voice trembles in hesitation because I know I am still an ‘in-law’ and there’s a long way to go, to be the son to a father. But this is the second chance. I thank you for pushing us away because that made me strong!

But don’t read this, because I only had a mother all this while!

Happy father’s day, may we meet again.