A tribute to the man who weaved words into my soul

It’s been 14 years since my dad passed away, and today, per the lunar year, my brother offers him sraddham ( food for my father’s journey in the next world). My mother reminds my sister and I every year to wash our hair in the morning and offer up a prayer in his remembrance. Because that’s what fathers need from their daughters after they’re gone.

I’m not going to get into the whole mechanics of that here. What, you know me and didn’t think I’d at least bring it up? 😁

But today, I simply want to offer more to the man who made me into, well, me.

My father was the oldest boy of 9 siblings. He grew up in a small village in South India and pursued higher education in a different state. When we asked for expensive things as children, he’d remind us he didn’t even have a watch until he was an undergrad student. So, in essence, he was from a lower middle-class family with not a whole lot of resources or financial clout.

But he was a man of principles. He believed in service to the people around him and the community. He proved, again and again, that you don’t have to be a person of great means to help those around you. He read widely to improve his understanding of the world and taught me to do the same. He enabled me to think for myself, to find myself in books.

But the most radical thing my father did for a man of such small beginnings was how he raised my sister and I.

I don’t remember ever hearing the narrative that we were girls so we must be… protected/coddled/limited/ so on…

If we made mistakes, there were consequences, just as there were for my brother. If we succeeded in something, he told us there were greater heights to take on. If we disagreed with him on the future path, he indulged us and let us learn from our mistakes. If we failed, he hugged us, loved us and told us to not wallow in failure.

The most important thing was that he created this safe space for us to be just us. Flawed or fierce or selfish or kind or driven or loud or brash or argumentative (because oh man did I argue with everything and everyone growing up). He never made me think I had to change or morph or fit myself into anyone’s pre-decided mold just because I was a girl.

My brother and I often talk about how he’s frozen in time for us. So he’ll always remain a hero. That we never got to know him completely as fully formed adults.

The fact is I’m sure we’d have had all kinds of arguments, small and gigantic, if he’d been alive today. I’m sure there would have been silences and rifts and making up. But the thing is, I have this gut level conviction that, even in the bitterest of our arguments, he would have acknowledged my right to hold those opinions. My sister’s right to express a dissenting opinion. Our right to disagree with him in the fiercest way.

For this, he’ll always have my unending gratitude.

Growing up, I hated my name. I thought it was old and antiquated and boring and without telling my parents, I changed the spelling on the application for a state level exam, which means it would reflect that way everywhere for the rest of my life.

My dad had named me after his beloved mother. Of course, he got mad at me for my childish rebellion but laughed at it too. And when I got married, I told my then future husband I wasn’t going to change my last name. To his credit, Hubster smiled and shrugged.

And lots of people think it’s because I like bucking conventions, because I have a feminist agenda. Yes, it is that, but so much more too.

I kept my dad’s name because he’s part of my identity. He’s had such a big hand in making me who I’m today.

Would he have approved of everything I’m today? Probably, No.

Would he still have loved me anyway? Absolutely, Yes.

As I grow older and parent my two little girls, I realize that's what unconditional love means and I try to do a little better in seeing them as real people and not some kind of reflection of me.

P.S. Anything I mentioned about the rites offered after death is my meager and limited understanding of the Hindu faith. Please don’t come at me for this. 🙏🏽

P.P.S. No shade to anyone who takes a partner’s name. I’m all for the woman deciding what the hell she wants to be called. 😀