Go out with Pappa

Of all the people I enjoy my life with, my father is a tough person to have clarity about. Not that I don’t have fun with him, but just that it is not obvious enough for anyone to know. Not even the two of us. I often forget how I couldn’t get luckier to have this person in my life. He tries to be the friend. And, that’s more than enough.

I believe that’s how fathers and sons have lived around, trying to be. This relationship is way more complicated than a couple about to be divorced. There is no scale to tell how bad a couple feels about falling apart. But, definitely, a relation between the father and a son does not fall into the discussions of a ‘scale to measure goodness.’

By the way, I wouldn’t doubt about my interest in science to be vastly influenced by his take on the subject. To which, I owe him a lot.

As I see it, this uncertainty is not about being jealous or disliking each other. That is clearly not the case. It is more about not being obvious to the love between us. It’s there, but we don’t acknowledge it to the world. Which is just beautiful enough to be real. It’s also frustrating to not know. The only problem is men are so shy about the feelings they share that it’s hard to even admit. So are women. So is anyone who gets to live and have the sense of emotion on this planet.

I wonder when will we get past the current age where people say “He’s just like his father” or that “He is overprotective about his son.” This is mostly possible when men realise that being a man doesn’t mean to ‘not’ be feminine.

I read in a book, incompletely, about how the art of being masculine is to be appreciative about the femininity that your genes carry. Because, guess what? Your mom is a female. Meaning, to be a man is to be a human. It’s more than being just the opposite to a gender. I don’t know how the topic went from talking about my relationship with my father to masculinity.

Maybe that’s because he’s the first man I ever saw. Happy birthday, Pappa!

When will corona die?

Another walk on the road, and we are seven in number. Us three from home and the neighbors. It is lovely, like usual, the sky today.

“Amma, when will corona die?” asks my neighbor’s kid. Her mother dials a number on the phone which makes her even more impatient. She’s always trying to make her point on our evening-walk. When morning, she’s usually as quite as the lake we walk to. We maintain a distance of seven feet. One after another, like the train of angry ants. Yes, we call ourselves ants trying to be better humans.

To avoid being at her tantrum, I answer “A few more days. Why? You love going to school that much?”

“No! I don’t ever want to go to school. It’s better this way.”

She winks back to the point made. But, her dad couldn’t say the same about his office. ‘He cannot say this about his office’ is more precise. Without having options to choose from, he chooses to risk it all.

He works at the Government, and I barely know him. With him in the front, we barely talk. And, with me at the tail, it’s easier to have fun with this kid. Must say, it’s even comfortable back here without being fed with opinions and facts. At least we both agree that Tom was Jerry’s best friend.

We talk about the sky more than corona. More about the fun in not going to school than corona. More about our personal tricks to walk on the lake than corona. But, it’s challenging for even us to not talk about the killer walking freely on these streets.

“Tonight, it will die. I just spoke with corona! Tomorrow morning, it will have died!” her mother replies with the widest smile. She just got off the phone.

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