Today I wrapped up work early and fell asleep. It has been a little rough the last few weeks or months, mood wise. I get a little respite when I sleep and sometimes doing other things. But sleep, even though it is precious little, helps.
Papa is busy and wasn't going to be able to come to Bandra. I felt a little sad but I had some stuff to finish and all that.
I was having a luscious nap and a call from V woke me up. We chatted. Then I just decided to have a bath, wear pink, light up my Christmas tree and go meet my dad.
He wasn't expecting me. His friend is visiting and the two of them were having a meal. I made some coffee and joined them. Heard some stories, laughed a bit. Papa told me about the time when my mom, then a new bride, had asked my father to take her to see snow. And he took her to Russia in the winter.
It felt so good and nourishing.
Sometimes I wonder about the men in that generation. How important it was to tend to a family, a marriage, your place in the world.
As much as my dad exasperates me (and he does every single day), I think he is the most perfect man in the world.
When I was a child, I used to believe that Papa was the wisest, kindest man in the world. He could never be wrong. He would never hurt me or allow anyone to do that either.
Then I turned 15 or something. And I have had a very rough relationship with him since. (To be honest, I have had a rough relationship with everyone since. With the exception of my mom, of course.)
But now having seen and known men, including relatives, etc. I just see how brave a man my father was and is. He is so cheerfully stubborn about peace and simplicity that I find him reckless at times.
But I have come full circle today. He is the wisest, kindest man in the world. He can never be wrong. He will never hurt me or allow anyone to do that either. (And I bask in the warmth of this feeling until he asks me for the thousandth time how to send an attachment on WhatsApp.)
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