A Princess - She Stole My Heart

I was smoking in the backyard…..trying to hide myself, when she suddenly caught me from behind and blasted me……After her long lecture and my consequent explanation and apology, she hugged me and said “Ok, I give you one more chance. I need you Pappa” and I wondered if she had any idea that I needed her a zillion times more…!!

One Story of My Life – Etched on The Journal of My Body

Certain stories are life changing and what’s the best way to carry these memories along with you to your grave – My first Tattoo – DIYA – This story has special memories which will last a lifetime. One can carry only the memories (neither the relations nor the materialistic gains of life) and hence I decided to pen down my special moments with my daughter Diya, so far, before the waves of time fade these memories. My first tattoo had to be special. I thought over it for many months and finally I couldn’t think of a better one. The beginning of metamorphosis in my life - DIYA– Both our names have the same meaning. D - half face of Lord Shiva – my Hero, my Ideal, my Idea of Higher Power and the One who saved not only my daughter but me too, many times. I - Lord Shiva’s snake - the ‘EGO’ of a man which needs to be in check/ control and who can be better than a daughter to tame this EGO. Y - The Taurean Bull - a symbol of strength, tenacity and power. Pertinently we both are Taureans and possess typical Taurean traits. A - Conch Shell (Shankh) - which symbolizes purity and an auspicious beginning.

Life Before

Neelima, my wife and girlfriend since 2004, remained just my girlfriend even after marriage. I was busy savoring my Old Monk after an exhausting work out at the gym when Neelima came upto me and said “Lets plan a family. It will be so much fun when a small baby would run around here and bring life into this house”. I curtly replied “Do you expect me to walk with a baby in pram when I should be working and achieving my ambitions. Do you want me to waste time in all this when I have so many dreams to fulfill in this only life I have”……That was it. Neelima kept shut. She was upset and tired. Those days I was lost in my own world, my dreams/ ambitions and I kept on trying my luck in something or the other, just to prove myself to everyone. As if anybody really cared what I was up to and what I achieved, I was always dissatisfied with life. In this vicious cycle of materialistic ambitions, family responsibilities remained a distant priority. Our horoscope analysis during marriage which revealed difficulty in having a child perfectly matched with what was actually happening.

From Father’s Heart to Mother’s Womb

Who said MAGIC happens only in Fairy tales? It happens in real life too. We may call it coincidence or fate or luck. Neelima calls it MAGIC, she calls it MIRACLE. MAGIC exists only if you BELIEVE in them…….She believed in her Angel Soul and soon she was expecting (without any plans – Those days, I always had a plan for everything, but not this evolution).

Sep 2009, Neelima and I went to Singapore for our first holiday trip abroad. We spent a lovely time there and proceeded to Malaysia to satiate my crazy zeal to jump out of the sky. Neelima was two months pregnant and she used to wait for me reading books at the camp site whilst I continued with my jumping and landing spree. One evening we went for dinner at a restaurant near to the camp and the owner, a courteous old lady, congratulated Neelima. She asked “Is it a boy or girl?”. We both replied that since it was illegal in India to determine the sex of a child, we didn’t know. Nonetheless , the lady said that it was legal here and gave us reference of a doctor who would tell us if it was a baby girl or boy. We kept on thinking the whole night if we should go or not. Finally we didn’t.

Neelima asked me that night if I wished for a girl or boy. I instantly replied “I did not think about it (Family was a still a distant priority for me)…..Any thing would be fine….It doesn’t matter, but I prefer a boy”. I definitely was not amongst those Indians who are obsessed with having a boy with their unfounded, irrational and bizarre rationale. I wished for a boy so that he could be my friend, my companion. I could go gymming or running or cycling with him and sometimes to clubs too😊My father was more of a friend to me and hence, perhaps, I always thought my son would become my best friend. I never knew, then, what a daughter means to a father. Anyways, I always used to think (those days) that raising a child is the forte of a woman.

The Little Girl Who Stole My Heart……She Calls Me “Pappa”

18th May 2010, one day after Diya was born, I held her in my arms ( She was detected with jaundice at birth so was kept in NICU for 24 hrs.). As cautious I could be, I held her close and I could feel her twinkling eyes smiling and staring at me. I kissed her. That moment something changed within me which is hard to describe in words. I caressed her tender small feet and palms and a sudden thought came within me “I cannot ensure if her husband would treat her as a Queen, but for sure I will leave no stone unturned to treat her as my Princess”.

Closest Buddies – For Life

Last week we both were walking and she held my hand and asked me “Pappa do you know what is the game of FLAMES?” She is 9+ and goes to 4th standard. I said “No” but was curious to know. It was only later that Neelima told me that the game of FLAMES existed in their school too and subsequently I googled and found lot of stuff on internet. I attribute my shallow knowledge in this field, thanks to 11 years in a boys school and thereafter my profession in an environment surrounded by men only. But the interesting fact was, Diya defined all the alphabets as elucidated in internet or what Neelima said, except, that S for ‘Sister’ has been NOW replaced with S for ‘Sex’ in her school.

Diya continued asking me “Pappa what is sex”…..I was like “Hmmm….I will tell you later”….”Pappa is it a bad word, my classmates say so”……I said “No, it is not but you will learn about it in your biology classes”…..She continued “Pappa what is love. Is it the same as crush” …..I was wondering how to respond to her inquisitiveness, when she continued “When did you and Maa fall in love?”…..I replied “I was 22 and Maa was 21. We were pretty young, but we had finished our primary education and were independent emotionally and financially. So we CHOSE each other as life partners and life is all about CHOICES….and your CHOICES have consequences, good or bad”……She didn’t seem much interested in our love story and murmured “I don’t like it when you kiss Maa and hug her, you always support Maa (Neelima feels that I support Diya more, when she tries to discipline her and both of them don’t realize that this poor man is stuck between two girls)”…..I replied “Why? We are husband and wife and you came on this Earth because of our love. Will you be happy if we keep arguing and fighting and there is negativity at home or do you prefer a loving environment ? I respect and love your Maa, so what’s there to hide”…..

She said “Pappa I feel jealous sometimes…..but isn’t it bad….all this love and crush and all is so Gross ”……Ohhhh my Godd…her non-stop questions….I said “Love is God given. Boys / Men getting attracted to Girls/ Women is natural. We all get attracted, even now. But what is important is ACTION. Every ACTION has a CONSEQUENCE and one should have maturity and emotional courage to face it…We all SUFFER due to certain ACTIONS in life, but being MISERABLE is again a CHOICE”……It was too much for a nine year old child I guess. Her look revealed as if I was trying to teach her Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. But honestly, I did not know what to reply. The generation gap coupled with galloping influence of internet, social media makes these children far more advanced than how we were during our childhood days.

Parenting

I never knew parenting would be such a challenging and responsible job. Full time, 24*7…..We handle a life and it’s not only about future of the child but also the emotional and moral development. Off late, I heard so many suicide cases of children from 10th/ 11th / 12th standard. Drugs, sex and the eagerness of indulgence in alcohol have wallowed into schools and colleges. A whatsapp video recently got floated in which a 10th standard girl from Delhi went topless with boisterous cheers from her “Boy Friends” during a farewell party. This shook my wits apart.

School children indulging in sex ensued by abortion, their absolutely nonchalant attitude towards one night stands, live in relationships, break ups, divorces, adultery, aversion toward cultures and traditions, virtual friendship on social media have creeped in our society too, much like westerners. Of course I am not a highly virtuous person like Lord Rama and neither I have repugnant towards the new trends. With my own share of failures in many aspects of life (emotional and spiritual), I definitely cannot claim to be Saintly figure in front of my daughter. I keep telling her that I am not perfect, neither is she. I keep making mistakes, sometimes grave ones, and she too often does make many mistakes. However, I reiterate to her that life is a game only between oneself and his/ her consciousness. I tell her this whole universe is laid down by the principle of vibrations and you will reap what you sow. However, in this life with imperfectness, there are plenty of perfect moments and that I would love her the same even if she commits a sin and no matter how much I reprimand her after that.

Diya and I go on for hours discussing about priorities in life, consequences of “CHOICES” and how these distractions (when your age is inappropriate or during forming years) can lead one astray.

When she enquired if a man can kiss a man (She cited this at an airport), I explained about lesbians and gays and transgenders and the Supreme Court rule and different views of the society on these issues. I generally don’t pass on my judgement regarding any issue. However, I try to tell her my views (and how it can differ from person to person) and my experience and my own share of learning from incidents in my life.

I was satisfied with the fact that Diya shares everything with me including about a boy in her class whom her classmates’ term as her crush. We are best of friends now……..These 9 years have made us closest buddies. I juggle with the roles of a father, a sibling, a friend and a mentor with her. I break down, sometimes, whilst watching a movie with her when she turns back at me and says “Pappa, men don’t cry” and I reply “Why? Don’t I have emotions? I can cry too…” and she hugs me. I get caught by her, often, whilst smoking and all my moral lectures turn into a farce followed by series of discussions until we bargain with each other to give each other more time (She too has strong habits which I consider detrimental to her growth) and we settle down with a deal of she allowing me ONLY ONE cigarette and I allowing her ice cream and chocolates and chips ONLY FOR THAT DAY. She giggles when Neelima refuses her an ice cream, knowing well that I would get her an ice cream soon😊 She is a big drama queen ….

Memories Down The Lane

This bond developed slowly and steadily. Especially with the kind of person I was, a few years back. Immersed in my ambitions and dreams, I did not value these little moments with family. Rather, I could not imagine that these bonds would go on to become the most precious ones I have ever received from life. Certain memorable and indelible moments with Diya shaped our friendship.

Hospital

My first closest moment with her is something I wouldn’t describe in detail. Those moments were tough, but it made us tougher. It was early morning 0500 when I reached Dharamshala, all the way from Pune and saw Diya after her accident. She was one year four months old. Her right eye was swollen inexplicably. With Intravenous (IV) at five points in her body and drain tube in her skull, she looked at me with one eye and had tears. Ensuing day, I picked her up in my arms, with oxygen mask and IVs, in the chopper and we evacuated her to a multi-specialty hospital in Chandigarh. In the hospital, where we stayed for more than a month, the only times when Diya did not cry was when I sang the song “Maine Tere Liye”…..She kept her head, the non-affected part, on my shoulder and silently listened to the song, so many times during the day. Those moments and the next two years at hospitals in Pune developed a special bond between us. When the nurses could not find a vein in her body to get the next sample of blood (By then she had been pricked on her body multiple times), the only solace she had, perhaps, was me holding her tight and whispering in her ears “You are my little courageous princess”…..This phase of life taught me how much she needs me and how much do I need her. It took time to digest the fact that how important a father’s role is in a daughter’s life.

Our First Trip Together – Only Me and Diya

We were on our way to Stavanger, Norway. Diya was four years old. Neelima was already there for work and this time we too decided to go there for a holiday. I was carrying mostly eatables and some onion/ potato, masalas etc (Norway is a super expensive country and Neelima was staying in a company provided apartment– so we thought cooking at home would be economical as well as this would suit our taste buds). At the Luftansa airline check in counter, I was told that one of my bags was overweight and hence I thought of shuffling the contents of the bags. Whilst shifting the contents, I realized that Diya started playing with the potatoes and onions and was running around the airport. Much to my embarrassment, I scolded her and said “Don’t behave as if we have come to an international airport for the first time and what will people think - that we are carrying potatoes and onions”…..She said “But Pappa we have come for the first time only and how does it matter what people think”……..Many a times I don’t know what to answer, especially when she shows me the mirror. We boarded the flight.

Neelima had warned me not to give cold drinks or juices to Diya since she had cough. Much confident of my adeptness in handling her, I bribed her with juices and chips so that I could have a sound sleep. I woke up startled, when she vomited, all over my body and hers. For few minutes we both sat still, trying to avoid the disgusted look of fellow passengers. To our rescue came an elderly couple who gave us some warm towels and it took me an hour to clean her up, change her clothes and then clean myself….and of course clean the place. The best part was being sympathized by those ravishing air hostesses.

By the time I finished, it was already 15 minutes that the plane had landed at Amsterdam. Neelima had told me that Amsterdam airport is very strict and we need to be real quick if we have to catch our next flight to Stavanger. I was tired. Diya continued with her sprightly behavior now demanding for more juice……I ran with her to the immigration counter and whilst I was answering the questions of an official, I realized that Diya had gone far away from me playing and jumping around the airport, again…..Aaahhhhhh….Even the security man who seemed quite stern in the beginning looked at me with pity…..I guess my clothes stank and warranted immediate change. When I went to the MEN’s changing room, Diya kept standing outside the door and we kept talking. When Diya wanted to go to the washroom, I did the same.

This was not the end of it, as I thought. After we reached Stavanger, Neelima (for the first three days) used to go to her office early morning and come back by afternoon. I had a demanding time entertaining Diya the whole day. She didn’t want to move out of the blanket. She was not interested in snowfall (I was pretty excited). She wanted SOMETHING DIFFERENT to eat and she wanted me to be with her incessantly telling stories. I got tired of watching “Tom and Jerry” and “Akbar Birbal”. Whenever we went out with Diya, wearing those heavy winter accessories, all she did was become a statue. The whole trip I carried Diya and moved. She was so cranky and demanding that I lost my mind one day and told her “Just wait for us to reach India. Since it is illegal to scold/ hit children here, the moment we reach Mumbai airport you will get ten tight slaps immediately….just to compensate the trouble you caused me in this trip”……She, till date recollects this and laughs heartily. I had hit her two three times before when she was very young (since I thought this is the only way to discipline kids as I had experienced) only to realize that being stern would be enough and hitting would be demeaning, especially when I knew she could not retaliate.

Our First Vacation Together – Only Me and Diya

It was already an year + at Russia and I used to miss her terribly. For the first time I felt that I am missing out on her growing up. She used to visit me every three/ four months. One summer vacation, we decided to spend time together at Russia. Neelima did not get a long leave (we had pre planned another vacation after a month) and hence Neelima dropped her to Moscow. I took Diya with me from Moscow. Since I too did not get leave, I had kept a nanny (not a young blonde Russian with blue sapphire eyes as I desired but an old granny in her 70s, much to my dismay). One of my very close friends, a Russian lady, who worked with me did all the translations for the nanny and me, since majority of the people there spoke only Russian.

Those days I was just learning to cook. First lunch - I managed to make some burnt rice and dal and some potato curry. She couldn’t have it, though I found it palatable. For next two days she kept avoiding the food I cooked. I felt bad for her and asked the nanny to start cooking. She didn’t like the Russian way of cooking either. Moreover, the nanny cooked a big bowl of pork soup for her and she puked. I guess I had learnt descent Russian to explain the nanny that Diya eats chicken only (non veg) and that primarily we were vegans (Neelima & I had switched to being a vegetarian after Diya’s accident), but it turned disastrous. That evening, she saw me nervous as to how do I feed this child when she came upto me and said “Pappa I love your cooked food. Don’t worry for me, I will eat whatever you cook”. I was moved, but out came YOU TUBE and thereafter Diya & I started cooking together. She was thrilled to help me in the kitchen often.

I had bought a smart phone for her so that she could be connected on whatsapp with family members whilst I was in office (Of course now she doesn’t have one and I told her that she will have a smart phone only when she turns 18 and she always bargains with me saying “Pappa sweet 16”). She used to get up in the morning and send me a selfie with tag “Good Morning Pappa….Love You”, every single day for one month. She used to message me about her activities every hour. When I used to come for lunch, I saw her sitting on the window pane waiting for me, every single day. This feeling of knowing someone is desperately waiting for you at home is inexpressible (I had experienced this before when our pet dog, a pug, Oscar came into our lives – six months before Diya was born). Once I was in a high-level meeting in office, with Govt Attaché’s, and the conference room had pin drop silence with the presentation going on. I kept my mob on silent during the meeting. It vibrated and out I went to receive the call from Diya. She howled so loudly “Pappa the Nanny is not putting chocolate in my milk, I am trying to explain it to her…”. She was crying on top of her voice. It was so loud that I got some stares from my colleagues when I entered the room again. When I went back home, I found the nanny teaching Diya knitting and conversing. Diya told me that she learnt how to use the Google translator app and now both of them could converse with the voice option and hence I needn’t worry anymore….

Every night before sleeping, we sang songs and played guitar. We watched movies. I took her to places where I had never been since I had come to Russia. We played, we walked on beaches, we spoke for hours. We had a bath tub and Diya used to spend hours in the bath tub with her Barbie’s and accessories. I tried my best to dress her up but failed miserably whilst tying up her hair…..I then realized why a girl takes so much time to dress up😊Once we were having cake and I took my favorite chocolate truffle. She chose some fruit cake and I could see that she was not eating it. I offered her my cake and she refused saying “Pappa you eat it, it’s your favorite. I will relish my cake after pasta”. After I finished my cake she said she did not want the fruit cake as she did not like it. I asked her as to why she did not take my cake as she too loved chocolate truffle. She replied “Pappa If I would have had it, you would have to eat this fruit cake. And I know you wouldn’t have wasted this fruit cake. I did not like it so I am sure you too wouldn’t like it…” These little memories make such an impression on your heart and soul.

Once she returned back from a kid’s party sobbing “Pappa one of the girl told me that you were drinking surreptitiously (She saw my drinking days till she was four years old and I was sober for almost two and half years then)”. I was taken aback but firmly replied that I didn’t. I assured her that though I have my own shortcomings, it was just impossible that I hid anything from her and lied to her. Seemed to be pleased, she hugged me saying that “Pappa I had a nightmare few days back that you started drinking as before. So when the girl said this I was broken. I am sorry Pappa, I trusted her and not you”…..This moved me so much and I realized how much she was dependent on me and how much my actions affected her. She locked me twice outside the house when I went for a smoke (without appropriate winter clothing). Finally she took pity on me when she saw me shivering in the cold and reiterated “Next time I see you and you had it”……..Umpteen times she becomes my mother’s and my wife’s lethal combination and I dread when she gets into that mode scolding me to glory, along with her drama. I often tease her that she has a button through which she can instantly laugh and start crying next second and I aptly sing the song often “Adaye badi funky hain, karein hain nautanki, yeh chori badi Drama Queen hain”…..

Switching Between Friend and Sibling

It’s a debatable topic if having a single child is a good decision or not. But if one takes this decision, the parent has to play the role of a sibling at home. I play with Diya at home……but my abysmal acting skills whilst playing “Doll Doll” or “Teacher Teacher” seems to irritate her. We read books and watch movies together…..Fairy Tales movies, strictly meant for children, always surprise me when the lead actress comes scantily dressed and the “Happy Ending” finally leads to smooching scenes. I wonder if it’s better to watch normal movies too, so this time we watched “The Legend of Bhagat Singh” concurrently explaining our freedom struggle.

I love to shop for her……and often we decide for a shopping day out – without Mummy😉Of course. She constantly endeavors to impress me and compares her wardrobe with Neelima. We go for walks, drive and she keeps talking non-stop. We often go to the gym, running and swimming pool together. I do not understand as to when I should switch my role from a friend or sibling to a father. She is on the plump side and I literally have to coax her to improve her eating habits and get into a work-out routine. This is as a Father. But I quickly turn into her sibling when I give her moral lecture about eating habits and routine, discipline etc and she tersely objects “Pappa you should leave smoking first!!!”. As a friend, I teach her to respect her body and not be body shamed. I tell her about good touch and bad touch and the lustful eyes of few men. At the same time I tell her that it is perfectly fine, rather good, to have friends who are boys.

I told her that I, have friends who are girls and I occasionally go out for coffee/ dinner with them. She asked me “Isn’t that wrong pappa? You are married and should you be hanging around with other girls”……..I felt like laughing, however, explained her about friendship, independence, marriage, trust…so on and so forth. I really don’t know if she understood or whether it was correct on my part to explain her regarding my views. But I personally feel that this generation cannot be coerced with anything. They have a question for everything. They need a rationale behind everything. With advent and progress of social media and the kind of shows/ movies produced for children, this generation questions about rights and curtailment of freedom. With number of suicide cases coming to light (for reasons as silly as break up with a partner or failing in exams or not having a smart phone), I put in efforts to shape her own views for every issue. I give her choices to every question she asks and with every choice I tell her the likely consequences, based on my experience. I tell her it’s fine to fail and make mistakes. It’s all about learning, either from your own experiences or from other’s. I tell her how much she can learn from internet other than watching movies or downloading game apps.

Pappa’s Priceless Princess

As a Father, I go on to teach her about Ramayana, Mahabharata, Chanakya etc and values/ traditions of our forefathers. It’s a choice I give her. She watches me doing puja every morning and evening with my long list of chants. So I tell her that it is my CHOICE to be ritualistic and there is a difference between being ritualistic and spiritualistic. It’s my CHOICE to touch the feet of all elders. She has to choose her own road. I let her fight her own battles with her friends and schoolmates even if she comes crying seeking support. I don’t lend her a shoulder when she does something and is not ready to face it. I make her walk under hot sun sometimes when she demands to go in the car.

Recently, whilst cycling, she fell down in the sewer with her head downwards. My heart skipped a beat and I prayed with immense gratitude to Lord Almighty that she was wearing a helmet. With scratches on her body and howling in pain, she was shivering with fear. She said she will never ever ride a cycle ever in her life. We both came back cycling. I teach her to be fearless and independent so that she is able to face life, face failures and get up again. I certainly have dreams for her but I do not force them onto her. Neither am I Aamir Khan of the movie “Dangal” nor she is “Babita Phogat”. But I do tell her about the passion and commitment of Saina Nehwal, Kalpana Chawla, Mary Kom and many other women who have achieved their feat. She goes on to ask “Pappa is being a housewife bad?”. My reply is the same – priorities and choices. I tell her about our old Sati tradition, female foeticide, dowry harassment, domestic violence and how women of our country have moved ahead with changing mindset and attitudes of people. I tell her every woman has the right to choose what she wants from life and what keeps her happy. I tell her being a housewife is 24*7 job which is unpaid and not recognized by many. Its perhaps the greatest responsibility ever and that’s why men cannot become Mothers. But she has the right to choose her path and pursue her dreams, irrespective of the expectations from society. I teach her to value herself, believe in herself, her convictions, her inner voice. I teach her that she needs to respect herself first, love herself first…no matter the circumstances and failures, she needs to have gratitude to God and to everyone who stood by her in tough times. I teach her credibility and integrity. I teach her that MAGIC exists in real life too, only if she BELIEVES in it. She doesn’t understand many a thing and does not even follow. But so be it - I am also not perfect….and am unable to do many things - knowing very well, perhaps, what to do and what not to do.

I am parenting for the first time in life and I do not know how to do it perfectly. But for sure it has made me realize that it is one of the toughest jobs. Very demanding and a huge responsibility. Every person is an individual soul and has taken birth to fulfil his/ her karmic agenda. I would, for sure, not decide her course of life and neither will get in her way. But perhaps, my only role would be to guide her. Be with her. Support her. Love her. Respect her.

Nine years back I never ever imagined that these moments with my daughter would turn out to be the most precious moments of my life. Life is running at a fast pace. I see her pictures and wonder that this small baby, once peeing on my lap, is growing up into a graceful girl. I miss those times when we used to take bath together and tightly cuddle each other and sleep. Pulling out a chair for her and opening the car door makes her feel like a princess when she coyly smiles at me.

Life Moves On

I dread the day she will leave our house for higher studies like all of us. I left at 17 and so will she, to fulfil her dreams, to be independent. Another seven or eight years and she will move on towards a bright future. She will no longer demand Barbie Dolls. She will no longer eye Neelima’s wardrobe. She will no longer seek much of my time. She will have her friends, her work and love of her life. It will be hard to give her away to him. Every father certainly wishes and prays that her daughter’s husband would love and support her equally, if not more. Life must go on and I would love to see her fiercely independent, emotionally and financially. Nonetheless, these memories of her childhood will be etched forever….in my soul…..

These memories get summarized by a song, very close to my heart, sung by the band Heartland “I loved her First, I held her First, And a place in my Heart will always be hers…..From the first breath she breathed, when she first smiled at me, I knew that the love of a Father runs deep.....!!!