My Father's Daughter
Growing up I hated my dad because he made my life so miserable, he was a tyrant, he was mean, he was overbearing and he was just too much to handle for a sensitive and soft-spoken girl that was me many many years ago. I was so afraid of him that I never could make eye contact with him because he would forbid that. Years later he confessed that he could not face the questions in my big brown eyes and he just didn't want to deal with the guilt that came with his radical and no tolerance methods of raising his kids. And yet I would do anything to get a word of praise and his approval. For him, a thousand times over...
I looked at my friend's dads and them doting over their daughters, exaggerating about their achievements and I couldn't help but being a little envious. All I got to hear from my dad was that I would end up as a complete and total failure, would end up being some one's servant. When things would go wrong, he would blame it on me saying that I brought misfortune in his life. There was not a day, when I was not verbally or physically abused, there was not a day when I didn't go to bed crying, when I didn't plan of an escape from my prison...
My escape did happen...It started with the birth of my baby brother. Varun came unannounced in my life. Neither my mom nor my dad thought it was necessary to let their daughter know that our family was going to have an addition. I came back one day from school to find out from my neighbours that my mom was in hospital because she had just given birth to my baby brother and my dad had asked me to cook lunch for the family. I digested the news in a numb state but I knew I was fuming inside. I was fuming because nobody thought it was important to let me know and that I should told this by my neighbours. I kept my anger and my disappointment to myself and started cooking lunch. My dad was on cloud nine when Varun was born. He kept telling my mom and I that Varun was going to change his fortunes. The maestro's son had arrived... My mom never wanted to have a second child. She in fact was forced to have Varun and she was pretty indifferent to Varun from the time he was conceived. I guess Varun sensed it too. He refused to be with Mom for the first 2 years of his life.
So basically Varun became my baby, my responsibility, my daily chore. One day I heard my mom and dad fighting. My dad was calling my mom a useless mother as my brother refused to be held by her, and my mom said that he shouldn't have forced her to have the baby. It was a very nasty fight and I think Varun was only a couple of months old. I looked at Varun and I asked him why was he ever born, why couldn't he just go away? It was bad enough for me to endure my parents fighting over everything and anything and now they had one more reason to yell and scream and make a scene. Varun stared with me intently as if he understood every word that I had spoken, and then he started crying in a way that I had never seem him cry before. My heart melted and I knew that he had just realized that he was born into a family where his dad wanted him to be born because he felt Varun would change his fortune and would be completely his property, where his mom didn't want him in the first place and where his sister hoped that he could go away. I knew he was feeling unwanted and unloved just like me and I swallowed my selfish motives and anger and I hugged my baby brother for the first time and I promised him that I would love him and protect him and take care of him no matter what. For him a thousand times over...
Dad's financial situation was never good. We never had enough money to live well. Mom sold all her jewellery to put food on the table, my school fees were never paid on time, We were poor people but we lived a larger than life existence because dad was and is a larger than life man. He had big dreams and he painted a very beautiful picture, pictures that were so beautiful that it was almost cruel when we had to steer back into our reality. I was sent to my friends home many times to borrow money from their parents, something that I have never been able to forgive my dad for.All this talk of grand dreams and pride and dignity and yet send your daughter to beg. I still smart from that humiliation. It still comes in the way of me from accepting any kind of favors from anybody. I have always liked the nicer things in life ever since I was a girl. I wanted the nice toys, beautiful clothes, fancy summer vacations, I liked beautiful things, I seeked for beauty in my life and all I saw was the ugly picture of poverty. I believed that I would never sell my soul to seek a better life but it was possible to be good and to be honest and yet have a comfortable existence something that my Dad thought could never exist. For him, if you were financially well off you had sold your integrity and your values to the devil.
The final straw came when it was being discussed what was more important, Nisha's college fees or Varun's milk. At that point, I knew I had to make my move. I had to leave Bombay, for the sake of my brother, for the sake of me, and for the sake of my family. I couldn't bear the thought of Varun having to share precious resources with me, I wanted him to have all of what papa could could give him. I wanted more than what Papa could ever give me. I knew I could do it, I knew I would be able to find my way. I knew that I had to jump in the wilderness of my destiny. So I told Dad that I couldn't bear to stay one more day in his house and that he could do me one last favor, I wanted him to buy me a single way ticket to Singapore, a place where I was born and a place I could work and stay with no immigration hassles, thanks to my mother. My dad was furious and he disowned me the day I left Bombay and we didn't speak for ten years, because he was hurt and angry and feeling betrayed and I didn't speak to him, because I was determined to be successful and prove him wrong about whatever predictions he had announced about me.
Things were very hard in the beginning, but I never ever doubted my abilities, I knew that one day I would rule the world, that one day whatever I had dreamed about in our humble one bedroom flat in Malad will be my reality. I knew I will change my destiny. I just knew.
But what I always wanted to know was whether my dad loves me and misses me, and I just didn't know how he felt about me. This was my biggest failure in my life.
It has been ten long years since I embarked to find my calling and to change my destiny. I have risen from the ashes and today I have everything that a girl would wish for. there is nothing that I don't have and yet there is this emptiness in my soul which I hoped I would never have. I guess this comes with the territory. I am today a very successful woman, something that I find it very hard to admit, but its true, I am living my dreams today. Looking back, I don't know whether I could have ever done it if I had a regular childhood. Sometimes, it also comes to my head that if I had a regular childhood, maybe I would be better. But I know, I want to forgive my dad and I wanted him to give his stamp of approval so that I could face the world with my head held high, because through these ten years of me being away from him, I have realized that I am so much like him, I have started to understand the things he used to talk about, things that were just word to me, have blossomed into meaning and I now get it. It was impossible to love myself if I couldn't love the man who created me.
So with a hopeful heart, this prodigal daughter returned home seeking for her dad's blessings, hoping that he would show his love and affection and his approval so that she can break free from the cross she has been carrying for a decade. When he opened the door, somehow he unlocked the door to my childhood that I had kept shut for so many years. I looked at the man who had terrorized every living moment of my childhood and he stared at the woman who was a girl when she left home.
My dad who was larger than life, who was fondly called the Tiger, had shrivelled. Time and disappointment had taken their toll and his eyes reflected the sorrow of a true artist, an artist that never got his audience, an artist who never got to hear applause. I was speechless, I was no longer afraid of this man, I just wanted to protect him from this cruel world.
The house we lived in was exactly the same, the things in it were as old as me and nothing had changed, my dad was so thin, I felt guilty of looking healthy and radiant when he was fading. Although he spoke about life and stuff and his music in the same way he always did, I knew that he knew he was fighting a losing battle. A battle where I could not be his ally. A battle where I did not know the rules because of my decision of having no interest in the film industry who had treated my dad so bad, the industry that had no respect for my dad's wonderful talent, the industry where originality and honesty is looked upon with disgust. I wanted to have nothing with Bollywood because it took my father's youth away and gave him shadows of hope that turned to disappointing dust everytime he tried to hold on to them.
Till today, my dad lives in that very run down house, has one meal a day, wears torn clothes and his whole life revolves around my brother. It makes me feel very very guilty that I live well, that I have a good life, that I have all the comforts and that my dad is suffering. Its not that I have not wanted to share my happiness with my dad and my family. For him a thousand times over, but his pride gets broken whenever he has had to take anything from his daughter. His belief in himself gets shaken everytime I ask him to let go. I don't want to hurt him, I don't want to wound his pride, I just want to see him happy, I just want to take care of him because now I can.. But for him, its always been that his kids and his wife should love him and respect him because he is a great artist, but we love him already, because his is my dad, he could be anything and I would still love him. I know that the only way he will be happy is when his music is commercially accepted in Bollywood. It wouldn't matter to him then if his kids loved him or not, he just wants his audience to ask for an encore..And the sad thing is inspite of all that I have achieved, I cannot give him that..I cannot make him happy..This is the cross I wear..This is why I am what I am today.. My dad.. For him I would do anything and everything..and for him I cant do anything....This is my story...
I looked at my friend's dads and them doting over their daughters, exaggerating about their achievements and I couldn't help but being a little envious. All I got to hear from my dad was that I would end up as a complete and total failure, would end up being some one's servant. When things would go wrong, he would blame it on me saying that I brought misfortune in his life. There was not a day, when I was not verbally or physically abused, there was not a day when I didn't go to bed crying, when I didn't plan of an escape from my prison...
My escape did happen...It started with the birth of my baby brother. Varun came unannounced in my life. Neither my mom nor my dad thought it was necessary to let their daughter know that our family was going to have an addition. I came back one day from school to find out from my neighbours that my mom was in hospital because she had just given birth to my baby brother and my dad had asked me to cook lunch for the family. I digested the news in a numb state but I knew I was fuming inside. I was fuming because nobody thought it was important to let me know and that I should told this by my neighbours. I kept my anger and my disappointment to myself and started cooking lunch. My dad was on cloud nine when Varun was born. He kept telling my mom and I that Varun was going to change his fortunes. The maestro's son had arrived... My mom never wanted to have a second child. She in fact was forced to have Varun and she was pretty indifferent to Varun from the time he was conceived. I guess Varun sensed it too. He refused to be with Mom for the first 2 years of his life.
So basically Varun became my baby, my responsibility, my daily chore. One day I heard my mom and dad fighting. My dad was calling my mom a useless mother as my brother refused to be held by her, and my mom said that he shouldn't have forced her to have the baby. It was a very nasty fight and I think Varun was only a couple of months old. I looked at Varun and I asked him why was he ever born, why couldn't he just go away? It was bad enough for me to endure my parents fighting over everything and anything and now they had one more reason to yell and scream and make a scene. Varun stared with me intently as if he understood every word that I had spoken, and then he started crying in a way that I had never seem him cry before. My heart melted and I knew that he had just realized that he was born into a family where his dad wanted him to be born because he felt Varun would change his fortune and would be completely his property, where his mom didn't want him in the first place and where his sister hoped that he could go away. I knew he was feeling unwanted and unloved just like me and I swallowed my selfish motives and anger and I hugged my baby brother for the first time and I promised him that I would love him and protect him and take care of him no matter what. For him a thousand times over...
Dad's financial situation was never good. We never had enough money to live well. Mom sold all her jewellery to put food on the table, my school fees were never paid on time, We were poor people but we lived a larger than life existence because dad was and is a larger than life man. He had big dreams and he painted a very beautiful picture, pictures that were so beautiful that it was almost cruel when we had to steer back into our reality. I was sent to my friends home many times to borrow money from their parents, something that I have never been able to forgive my dad for.All this talk of grand dreams and pride and dignity and yet send your daughter to beg. I still smart from that humiliation. It still comes in the way of me from accepting any kind of favors from anybody. I have always liked the nicer things in life ever since I was a girl. I wanted the nice toys, beautiful clothes, fancy summer vacations, I liked beautiful things, I seeked for beauty in my life and all I saw was the ugly picture of poverty. I believed that I would never sell my soul to seek a better life but it was possible to be good and to be honest and yet have a comfortable existence something that my Dad thought could never exist. For him, if you were financially well off you had sold your integrity and your values to the devil.
The final straw came when it was being discussed what was more important, Nisha's college fees or Varun's milk. At that point, I knew I had to make my move. I had to leave Bombay, for the sake of my brother, for the sake of me, and for the sake of my family. I couldn't bear the thought of Varun having to share precious resources with me, I wanted him to have all of what papa could could give him. I wanted more than what Papa could ever give me. I knew I could do it, I knew I would be able to find my way. I knew that I had to jump in the wilderness of my destiny. So I told Dad that I couldn't bear to stay one more day in his house and that he could do me one last favor, I wanted him to buy me a single way ticket to Singapore, a place where I was born and a place I could work and stay with no immigration hassles, thanks to my mother. My dad was furious and he disowned me the day I left Bombay and we didn't speak for ten years, because he was hurt and angry and feeling betrayed and I didn't speak to him, because I was determined to be successful and prove him wrong about whatever predictions he had announced about me.
Things were very hard in the beginning, but I never ever doubted my abilities, I knew that one day I would rule the world, that one day whatever I had dreamed about in our humble one bedroom flat in Malad will be my reality. I knew I will change my destiny. I just knew.
But what I always wanted to know was whether my dad loves me and misses me, and I just didn't know how he felt about me. This was my biggest failure in my life.
It has been ten long years since I embarked to find my calling and to change my destiny. I have risen from the ashes and today I have everything that a girl would wish for. there is nothing that I don't have and yet there is this emptiness in my soul which I hoped I would never have. I guess this comes with the territory. I am today a very successful woman, something that I find it very hard to admit, but its true, I am living my dreams today. Looking back, I don't know whether I could have ever done it if I had a regular childhood. Sometimes, it also comes to my head that if I had a regular childhood, maybe I would be better. But I know, I want to forgive my dad and I wanted him to give his stamp of approval so that I could face the world with my head held high, because through these ten years of me being away from him, I have realized that I am so much like him, I have started to understand the things he used to talk about, things that were just word to me, have blossomed into meaning and I now get it. It was impossible to love myself if I couldn't love the man who created me.
So with a hopeful heart, this prodigal daughter returned home seeking for her dad's blessings, hoping that he would show his love and affection and his approval so that she can break free from the cross she has been carrying for a decade. When he opened the door, somehow he unlocked the door to my childhood that I had kept shut for so many years. I looked at the man who had terrorized every living moment of my childhood and he stared at the woman who was a girl when she left home.
My dad who was larger than life, who was fondly called the Tiger, had shrivelled. Time and disappointment had taken their toll and his eyes reflected the sorrow of a true artist, an artist that never got his audience, an artist who never got to hear applause. I was speechless, I was no longer afraid of this man, I just wanted to protect him from this cruel world.
The house we lived in was exactly the same, the things in it were as old as me and nothing had changed, my dad was so thin, I felt guilty of looking healthy and radiant when he was fading. Although he spoke about life and stuff and his music in the same way he always did, I knew that he knew he was fighting a losing battle. A battle where I could not be his ally. A battle where I did not know the rules because of my decision of having no interest in the film industry who had treated my dad so bad, the industry that had no respect for my dad's wonderful talent, the industry where originality and honesty is looked upon with disgust. I wanted to have nothing with Bollywood because it took my father's youth away and gave him shadows of hope that turned to disappointing dust everytime he tried to hold on to them.
Till today, my dad lives in that very run down house, has one meal a day, wears torn clothes and his whole life revolves around my brother. It makes me feel very very guilty that I live well, that I have a good life, that I have all the comforts and that my dad is suffering. Its not that I have not wanted to share my happiness with my dad and my family. For him a thousand times over, but his pride gets broken whenever he has had to take anything from his daughter. His belief in himself gets shaken everytime I ask him to let go. I don't want to hurt him, I don't want to wound his pride, I just want to see him happy, I just want to take care of him because now I can.. But for him, its always been that his kids and his wife should love him and respect him because he is a great artist, but we love him already, because his is my dad, he could be anything and I would still love him. I know that the only way he will be happy is when his music is commercially accepted in Bollywood. It wouldn't matter to him then if his kids loved him or not, he just wants his audience to ask for an encore..And the sad thing is inspite of all that I have achieved, I cannot give him that..I cannot make him happy..This is the cross I wear..This is why I am what I am today.. My dad.. For him I would do anything and everything..and for him I cant do anything....This is my story...
posted by NishaDelisha at
4:09 PM
5 Comments:
Profound stuff Girl. You are an amazing person and I'm continuously inspired when I read your writing. I'm sure you will find the purpose and the larger direction soon and all your friends are going to be rooting for you.
very heartfelt rendition; you must be a really interesting person. Well, i found the blog link on your Orkut profile and had the opportunity to read through it. How do you manage to be so open about something so personal?
Thanks Puneet..
Sometimes talking about the truth gives you the strength to accept it.
Thanks for stopping by..
SOULFUL. Absolutely soulful. What I liked about you is that you made a choice. You rose to the occasion. And one more thing - you don't have to bear the cross of your dad's struggle. The fact that you still love him no matter what is enough! Write. Write a lot. You are your own healer.
Thanks Jo
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