buying cigarettes in Madurai.

Daddy completed all his years of service in Tamil Nadu, and I was born in Madurai. Which could explain the affinity I have for all things/people Tamilian.

Daddy used to get transferred every 2-3 yrs, and sometimes, the places would not have good schools. So there came a time when the decision was made that Mom would stay back in Kerala with my sis and me in her ancestral home so that we could have an uninterrupted education in one of the best convents.

We used to join him for our school vacations. The more boisterous of the two children, I totally loved those days in hot T.Nadu, where Daddy used to be staying in colonies, and I used to have loads of children to play with, of both sexes. Madurai, Pollachi, Udumalpet, Rameswaram, Sivakasi- all of these places hold delightful memories for me.

Daddy used to be a chain smoker before he gave it up totally. And his brand was Scissors. For the man of action satisfaction, the packet said. One morning, when we were in Madurai- this was later when I was around 6-7 yrs old- Daddy ran out of cigarettes. There was this shop at the start of the road to our colony, a small petti peedika which sold all sorts of odds and ends, including cigarettes. I was entrusted with the task of buying one packet urgently for my Dad. I set out importantly.

Reached the shop. As usual, the front of the shop was crowded with people wanting soap, safety pins, hairpins, cigarettes, matches.... I waited patiently, before climbing onto a pile of stones deposited by the side of the shop. The shopkeeper saw me and asked me what I wanted.

"One cigarette," I called out across the other people. The man looked at this chit of a girl asking for cigarettes, but I held his gaze firmly.
The man shook out one cigarette from a packet and held it out to me.

I was confused. I had never seen ONE cigarette bought. Dad always only had packets and packets of the stuff.
"I want the cigarette in the packet," I said.
The shopkeeper decided to humour the little girl inspite of having other customers. He put the cigarette into a packet and gave it to me.
I was even more stumped.

"Not just one- I want more cigarettes..."
Enna ma, the shopkeeper grumbled, and shook out some 5-6 cigarettes into the packet- pothuma..?
By now I was getting flustered, for the other customers were enjoying the show.

Then- brainwave!
I spied a stack of Scissors lying on one of the shelves.
"I want that packet," said I triumphantly.

The shopkeeper grumbled- "If you say one cigarette, you will get just one cigarette.You should have asked for a packet of Scissors in the beginning itself.

I nodded in agreement. Next time, I promised myself. Fortunately/unfortunately, I did not have to use my new found wisdom.

Aaah.... Dad!

Today is my Dad's B'day.


He would have been eighty if he were alive today. We would have forced him to celebrate his Shashti. And he would have scolded us for indulging in all that sham...

But as it is, all that I have to show my son of his Achacha is a foto- on the wall of my living room and a bigger one of the door of my wardrobe. Daddy's cheek on the foto in my wardrobe is a little faded on one side. This is with all the drooly kisses Sonny boy has been giving him since he was able to kiss.

Aah... Dad! If only you could have lived just a little longer... if only you could at least have seen my son...

Daddy had kidney failure. But he was one of the fortunate people who did not have to lie agonisingly unwell in bed, stretching out their dying days. He was active till the last week,weak and tired, but in full control of his senses and body. He passed away on 21st Dec 2002.

In Nov, on one of my regular visits to him, he and I were sitting on the verandah, when in an unusually expansive mood, he said.. I have had a good life, you know... I have 'lived' life... and I don't have any regrets... except.. maybe I would have liked a car of my own...and I would like to see your child... and you move into a house of your own...

Aaaah.... Dad! At the time, I certainly didn't know that he was going to go away from us so soon, but I wonder if he did...

We had just been chatting on how his illness made him lose out on certain foods which were so dear to him. Daddy loved good food and he loved to treat people to good food. But he was telling me that all that was alright, that he had reached a ripe old age, and he had lead a happy life, surrounded by friends and family who thought the world of him. (Irrespective of the fact that he would tell people to their faces what he thought of them- be it complimentary or not!) And the fact that now in his old age he had to compromise on a few food habits wasn't all that big an issue. "I have had a good life, you know..."

My son was conceived 6 months after my father passed away. Ah! the bitter sweet joy of knowing that one of my Dad's unfulfilled desires was coming true... How I wished that it could have happened a year earlier.. that he could at least have held his grandson in his arms..that one old, lined, stubbled cheek could have rested for a second against one smooth soft one..Aah... Dad!

At home, in Kerala, Daddy's foto is hung in the living room there too, and when he was of an age to baby talk, Sonny boy would look at the foto and say Achacha...Sonny boy has a rare smile for his Achacha. And every time he kisses the picture stuck on my wardrobe, my eyes fill up, as I look into the eyes of my father. Who seems to be comforting me at times.. who seems to be reaching out at times...straining to hold his daughter and grandson... Aaaah... Dad!

I think of him in all the happy times-
When we moved into our new house, just 4 months after his death, as per schedule and he wasn't there and neither was my Mom...
when I decided to resume working and got my appointment letter...,
when I got my first salary again, and couldn't spend it on a shirt for him...
when Sonny boy takes up a 100 rupe note and says Achacha..! Gandhiji and Daddy look similar-they're both bald!:-) Aaahh... Dad!

And I think of him in all the unhappy times, difficult times, and I look up at him and ask if he's seeing all this, and can't he do something to make things better.. after all he's up there now....
Aahhh... Dad! does the pain ever grow less, I wonder? Do you ever stop missing, stop longing... stop wishing...


Happy Fathers Day to all Dads!