Hi Dad, I Hope They Still Make Some Like That

In a very strange way the true definition of a feminist dawned on me today. And no surprise that it brings me to think of you Dad. 

Many girls reading this are likely to think of their fathers in the same way. And that’s good. I grew up in a house where you and Mom encouraged us siblings to have the highest of dreams and you would support us whole-heartedly. There were no boundaries, no restrictions, no limitations based on gender. Ever. In you Dad, I had the world’s most powerful believer in my abilities, the most powerful supporter who would have my back even if the entire world turned against me and the wisest counsel who would advise me such that I could soar to the legacies I could leave behind. I felt you were my best friend, the Krishna to the Arjuna in me. I bounced like I was the chosen one.

And then you left us early this year. Hundreds of your friends, colleagues and our relatives have since joined to comfort us. Every single one of them has a story on how you made a huge difference to their lives – sometimes by giving months and years of your time and effort in helping them at their crucial moments when they suddenly found themselves alone, sometimes by giving advice and guidance at their crucial junctures that changed the course of their lives for the better and many times by your wise counsel in people’s crucial formative years that shaped them into confident, wise, learned and generous people. In all these stories, the ones that stood out for me were those that came from a large number of your women colleagues going back all the way to your college days to your most recent stint – covering a span of 60 years.

As I heard their stories about the struggle to achieve their dreams, their fight against limitations from family, in-laws, husbands, colleagues, politics at home, politics at work and sometimes their own personal demons – I could hear you not just being Krishna to me, but to each one of them. These stories came many times from women who are super achievers, come from well educated backgrounds and have well informed, well read and well traveled families behind them. These women shared their personal journeys with me, that till now only they or only you Dad, knew of. Stories of your guiding them at every step on achieving their dreams to the fullest, encouraging them to soar to their highest possible, counseling them on maintaining the balance on Karma and Dharma and being the charioteer that you were to me too.

The most generous in us faults while ceding space when it comes to people who in some way compete with us or let’s say who we view as competition in different aspects of life. Mostly the peers at work, many times the partner at home and sometimes even friends when it comes to opinions and debates around important matters. I have seen the best of fathers be the most conservative colleagues, stingy friends and tight fisted husbands when it comes to sharing space. As I share my stories of me and my relationship with the friend in you Dad and what you helped me be, I hear hundreds of voices saying – me too – of people who say you were 'their friend' Krishna too. Women achievers, your colleagues, your friends, us and our Mom – everyone’s.

Let me admit Dad, my possessiveness raised its head for a moment to say to me that everyone may have been your best friend but you and I were the bestest. As if the voice was audible to everyone, I could suddenly hear everyone saying – mine too! Everyone truly believes in their heart that you and they were the bestest friends. I understand now that it is because you facilitated everyone find themselves, helped clear the debris on their path as also in their mind, showed them their wings and then just stood aside for them to soar while cheering the loudest. As much as I want to say they don’t make them like you anymore Dad, I wish they do make some. For the sake of millions of women who need a friend like you. They’ll always do.

So long…..