1 Month to Papa, 1 Month to life without our Superman

23 years ago, I lost my dad in an accident. We were driving back to Bangalore, excited to be home, we crashed and he passed away almost instantly.

One month ago, I lost my second dad. He too was on his way driving to Bangalore, excited to be with us, he had an attack and passed away in a day.

Both dads left us suddenly, in a blink. Both fortunately didn’t survive to lead half-lives saddled with injuries or dependence on others for basic things which would probably have driven both of them to abject sorrow. That’s the only way the ones left behind can look at things and find solace.


There’s a ton of things I learnt from my Dad in the 12 years I knew him – thanks to him taking me everywhere and telling me everything he was doing, including having me sit with a coloring book at one of his General Body meetings when I was 8. He’s the reason I have an urge to figure out things, fix things and then revel in the achievement of how amazing it became. I spent the next 13 years after he left, picking up the pieces and learning to live independently – be it washing the car, or fixing the showerhead, or fixing bulbs, paying the bills and doing everything. And then I fell in love and found myself become part of this family with someone who went on to be just like my Dad, someone who took care of us all and became that safety blanket I knew I had to fall back on always. The first glimpse I had of this was when we were headed to Mumbai for our reception after our wedding in Bangalore – we got off our cabs once we reached the airport and all the women started walking to the terminal. I lifted the trunk of my cab and went to pick up my suitcase (I was not used to anyone doing this for me) like no biggie, chooda and unnecessary jewelry jangling and what not. He grabbed my suitcase from me. I told him that I’ll carry it and he said – “Aap akeli ho toh ye sab kar lena, mujhe aaj uthane do” (Okay, so you can do this when you’re alone, but when I’m here please let me do this). It was the first of many times he’d take care of me and remind me how much one can enjoy having a dad to spoil you. That’s just how he was. And in the time we spent together, there’s so much more I learnt from him too.

• Respect your work; and everyone else’s
• Papa worked for the same company for all his life – from being a simple junior engineer employee, to being mentioned in their annual reports 30 years later. Gammon was his second home, its problems were his problems, for the longest time. In the last few years despite his ‘retirement’, he still found a way to work with them in some capacity or the other. He really enjoyed working and staying busy and productive. And this quality of his allowed him to respect our jobs and effort. When he saw me awake one morning at 5 am to set up and open a dataroom for a divestiture, he didn’t tell me to shut down and go to sleep, he asked me to eat something. When he saw us working from home, on calls, he didn’t once interrupt or once belittle our jobs just because we weren’t in the office or out and about in the traditional sense. His appreciation and respect for work is something we could all learn – Especially when many people still behave as if working from home means the company pays me to sit and dang my keyboard and talk to 1-2 people a day. He understood that even if that’s all one did but did it all day – it could be tiring.

• Bond and connect with kids
• Back when Vivek and I were dating, his roommate saw Vivek’s parents at the train station when he came to drop Vivek off. He came back and told me – “Japoo, I can tell you this – His dad looks very strict and serious, but He’s the one who will be the softee. He’ll be really nice to you.” I swear I never believed him because Papa’s first impressions to me were genuinely intimidating – even if that lasted only for the first few times I met him. But for however grumpy he looked on the outside, when he met a child, he became a child. He knew just how to go to their baby levels to bond with them. And I’m yet to see a child who didn’t enjoy his company. He met Vir for a precious few 2.5 months, but he held him at every opportunity he could. He would try to calm him down when Vivek and I struggled, he’d take him to the balcony and play old hindi songs, he’d grab his pram when we stepped out, hold him during Diwali Puja and Bhai dooj, play with him religiously every morning, noon and night. If he was watching an extremely intriguing episode of Mirzapur he’d still turn it off if Vir was awake and say “Aao ji” and play with him. He spoke to him on video after that and every time he’d see Vir, he would greet him in a typical sing song Helloooooo and Vir would beam with happiness. Vir still looks at his Dadu’s photo and wonders why he isn’t speaking through the frame. It breaks my heart everytime he points at it and smiles.

• Adapt to technology
• Papa was growing older, but his mind was sharp as a razor. He was already the only person in his age group I know who could skillfully make all his utility payments online, book movie and play tickets on BookMyShow, back up photos to his laptop and clear up his phone. With COVID and OTT content going enormously available, he quickly made the switch and if we became Netflix and Prime junkies, he would watch Netflix, Prime, Hotstar, Zee, Sony, MX, Jio – Everything! And he would give US reccos! He learnt how to use PayTm and UPI and on our birthdays and anniversaries, he’d promptly transfer money and tell us to buy something nice for ourselves since we cannot all be together right now. He would connect on Zoom during Lockdown 1.0 and play Family housie like a Pro. He cringed at some technology advancements, but never rejected them. He adapted, he survived, he thrived.

Unshaven Lockdown look - but always on time for Family Housie! 

• Go everywhere!
• Papa spent so much of his life working, but from what I hear from Vivek, he made the time to show the kids what ever places he could – Whether it be a Rajasthan or Kerala trip combined with some wedding, or simple weekend getaways. In the last few years, he was open to all places – We went to Daman & Diu, Coorg and Ajanta Ellora caves together. He also made the time to do two Europe trips with Mummy and really soaked in what each country had to offer. He came back with stories of haggling with some shopkeeper, or helping a couple retrieve their phones and passports. He was sort of ticking off a bucket list. A reminder to us all to live life to fullest and see as much of the world as possible – Life is really way too short.

Somewhere in Europe

At the Rann of Kutch

     

• Stay connected, not overly social
• Papa knew what was going on in everyone’s lives – Without snooping. He always stayed in touch with his brothers, his family, his friends, without being extra social. He made an effort to genuinely ask and understand what everyone was doing and if there was something he could help with. That’s just how he was – He never made a big deal about you not calling him, if he wanted to talk to you, he’d pick up the phone and talk. Whether 5 mins, or 15 mins. I remember initially after our wedding, I’d talk to Papa for 10-15 mins on the phone every few days, sometimes when he was on his way back home and we’d talk about a new movie, a new investment, some new random rules, my traffic ticket, anything random. I’m going to sorely miss having someone to call saying Hellooooo Papa and have a Hulloooo ji come on the other side – He’d answer my call even if he was driving, check if it was an emergency and then say he’d call me back in 30 mins, and he always would. He’s probably the only person from the family who asked me early on about my dad, what he did for a living, how he passed away, where his family was and what really had happened in my life – And he seemed like he always genuinely unbiasedly cared about it.

• Fix things and stay organized
• Mr. Fix It. He would fix everything that was broken, without making a big fuss about it, without you even realizing it was broken in the first place. Be it renewing an insurance policy, updating a passbook, fixing the car, a leaking roof, a broken door knob, he was always at it wherever he went. He always did some home improvement or the other when he visited us and slowly it grew on us, so when we would fix something at home, we’d tell each other how proud he would be if he saw us do this and I’d remember to show him when he visited us next. It was like getting a star in your report card from the teacher and he never held back on that! He also was so incredibly organized, it could put Marie Kondo to shame. If he and I were given the same number of things to pack in a bag, I’d use two and he’d neatly pack everything in one. He was organized with his passwords, his accounts, everything. It’s a lesson to learn and imbibe – because it just became a way of living for him! I still remember him and I exchanging a whispered chuckle when I praised his choice of bag to so neatly hold cash to keep placing into the rituals during my sis in law’s wedding havan – with the pandit reciting mantras in the background and so much else going on. He was amazing, he truly was! 

• Always value money
• Papa came from humble beginnings and he never forgot that. Whether or not he had the money, he strongly discouraged wastage of any kind. He was prudent in the holidays he booked, he’d take the train if the flights were crazy expensive, he’d use a simple tab even if he could afford the best iPad in town, he’d re-use kurtas from years even if we’d force him to buy new ones. He taught me how one can be content without splurging and one’s expenses needn’t explode basis their incomes.

• Stay up to date with trends and current affairs and keep reading
• If he were alive today, He’d have an opinion on the Afghan crisis, the Olympics, the third wave, Kohli’s dismal individual performance in the last test – Everything. And he’d generally be backed by reading and facts, not just whatsapp university. He used his Kindle well for a long time, moving to his tablet and always took my book recommendations seriously. One of the earliest conversations we had was sitting outside the Taj Mahal while the rest of the family went to look at the maqbaras – I unable to, because of an ankle sprain, he out of disdain. And we ended up chatting away for those 30 mins from everything – Drone attacks, to Mughal atrocities, to how dirty the Yamuna is, everything. He just was like that – sometimes Father like, sometimes Friend like. Heck in his last days, he even used the Pawri ho rahi hai meme super aptly.

• The little things matter
• He did the little things for people without them asking for it – He made sure Vir saw some atleast one sparkler on his first Diwali (Though he ended up burning his own hand while holding it up for Vir!), he made sure to order some sweets and snacks from my favourite place on Swiggy for my first Mother’s Day. When we’d go to Mumbai, he’d make sure to buy Kulfis because I would stuff my face with them and stock the fridge (even though at times the others reminded him – but if everyone forgot also, the next day, he’d find a way to remember and do it himself). He used to read my blogs and sent me a whatsapp telling me how he loved what I wrote about learning from Vir and how I should write more – It’s a message I’ll save forever.

• Love your food – with no hesitation
• Papa truly loved his khana – And he was unabashedly open about it. He didn’t care if someone said he ate one sweet too many, he’d sulk about it that night but the next day he w
  ent at it with just as much joy. We loved talking about food and trying new things with him – He got around to really appreciating baos and chicken cooked in pandan leaves. He'd ask with a twinkle in his eye "Achha ye kya cheez hai?" and then he'd give it a fair chance even if it was a very foreign looking thing! The last thing he kept talking about eating was Biryani from Biryani by kilo and Vivek and I made plans to get him 2-3 different types of Biryani when he got here. In the last few months, every time I ate a bunch of purani sabzis, I’d plate it neatly and send him a whatsapp saying “See, aaj ka lunch – Miscellaneous” and he’d say “Very good, I'm eating chhole!”. I learnt from him to not be ashamed of what you truly love! Eat dil khol ke 😊 I'm going to miss you everytime I eat something spicy, or sweet or basically anything tasty! 

Thank you, Papa – for returning a little bit of Dad to me when I thought it was all gone. Thank you for the Father-daughter moments – The getting yelled at for taking you to Ae Dil Hai Mushkil or you insisting I navigated wrong because you turned left instead of right (😊). The ganging up against Mummy for the last piece of mithai she would auto assign to Vicky. The way you’d say “Ab Bas” and pass back the popcorn or nachos, but we all knew you’d take another bite when passed, though you’d tell us we’re forcing you to eat. The terrible Whatsapp jokes that you’d send us and then still read out to us and make sure we laughed at them. The very amusing phone calls when you’d call to ask me how to get Mummy’s phone off silent mode when the toggle was the only thing down, the conversations about world news, EPF interest rates, Bond movies, my father, everything under the sun. The many many stories you told me that began with “Humare Zamane mein” and though I had heard them 10 times, I’d still pretend like it was brand new, because I loved to watch you narrate them with child like enthusiasm. The sitting in the car version of the Mumbai darshan I’d ask you to take me on and you always obliged.

The three of us headed to Daman & Diu - Minutes before Papa & I argued over Google maps!

The heavens are richer now that you’re there – I really hope both my Papas are sitting on their comfy armchairs, a beer in hand, some chicken in the other and watching us fondly. THANK YOU for accepting me as I am, never judging me for being unlike most girls, for always having my back, for 10 years of beautiful memories, for holding us all together like glue, Papa. Thank you for BEING my Papa.

You will be missed every single day.

Our Sagan