Love and Loss

He was warm and cuddly, He smelt of lifebouy soap and freshness When he laughed,he guffawed and his belly shook. He would sniff my forehead and swing me onto his back for a ride around the house saying"uppu beka"(do you want salt) and knew more about the stars in the night sky than anyone I knew. He was a unpretentious, hardworking, and my hero....i just called him daddy. Love has a way of seeing the best in someone,no matter what they did wrong a d as the years have passed I remember the good times for they far outweigh the bad. My perpetual memory of him is coming home on a Saturday morning, he was posted outstation most of my growing up and would take a night bus to get home.He would never come empty handed...but always have a jackfruit,a bunch of palmfruit(nungu)tied in a palm leaf,mangoes,and such. He would leave sunday evening carrying his worn suitcase and I remember watching and waving until he was a tiny speck and I couldn't see him for either he was too far away or my eyes were cloudy with tears. Many years later when he used to fly ,he would save the peppermints that he got so I could have them. Yesterday I found a letter he wrote me when I went on a college excursion....he had asked not to miss seeing certain particular places of interest.His knowledge on things around him was astounding and I found myself often openmouthed and taking it all in. The envelope included a Kodak cricket contest that he would cut out of the newspaper and fill up for me to take part(I know little of that sport other than bat,bowl and six). In the many years that he did this we won nothing ....except it made for a wonderful letter exchange between a young father and his daughter. Summer nights after dinner we would often sit on the terrace of out house in the city looking up at the stars. He would point out each one and often have a tale to tell me. When we visited places like forts and temple towns he would tell us the history behind it and if a religious tale ,well he knew them too. Though my memory is not as great as his was I have tried to pass along these stories to my children . They help especially during long drives. I was also fortunate enough to spend some holidays alone with him, (my brothers had school)though the days were often tedious ,I say tedious because I had hit 10 and I wasn't to be left alone at home so he took me to the office and I had to stay quiet and read and draw. He could plait my hair well enough,and could sew if his shirt lost a button (He had an old sweet box with thread and needle), he could also knit ..or so he said. His love for cricket far outweighed everything and even in the midst of packing and moving house his transistor would be blaring the cricket scores. He played every sport and could be a mean opponent in chess and Chinese checkers....rarely letting me win. They say you can't turn back the clock and one should move forward but time stood still the day he died. He would have turned 86 today but he stays 56 .....forever in my mind, young,vibrant,ruddy cheeked and smiling. Forever Young, Happy Birthday Daddy