The Absence of Presence
22 August 2019
I prefer to Listen
The absence of a loved one is the presence of strength.
Fifteen years have gone by since daddy dear left for his angelic abode. Fifteen long years. That horrific day is still fresh in my mind although at the time, this mind was struck by pure disbelief. The almighty wouldn’t be so cruel so as to take away the guiding force, the ultimate provider of the family? I was still on the verge of understanding adulthood. How was I to be the torch bearer? Every child would eventually want to step into his/her parent’s shoe. But I wasn’t ready to let go of my comfy sneakers yet. I was still daddy’s little girl — his ‘Supa Puttar’ as he’d fondly call me. He was the right amount of fun and discipline. Every time I’d have a headache, instead of getting me a medicine or massaging my head; he would tickle me unannounced and I’d laugh uncontrollably to the point of breathlessness (Yes, I’m very ticklish…it takes just a pointed finger to get me giggling) Voila! Headache gone! He’d explain the ‘oxygen getting to the brain faster’ logic and I’d listen smilingly, still amazed at the quick recovery. This also meant that I couldn’t ever fake a headache, especially to get out of family outings even if to be on the phone to my friends instead (the confusing teens where “my peers are my dears” becomes the only mantra) Well, It was never an option. This family did EVERYTHING together. He detested the idea of homework and would strip us away from it whenever he could. “Let’s get some dinner/ let’s go see your aunt down the road/ Let’s go see the Christmas decorations at the Sheraton / Let’s go watch that new Bollywood film!”. Every evening we’d hopelessly aim to finish school tasks before the words ‘Let’s go!’ hit us again. He believed there was much more to learn from our surroundings than bury our heads in books. He’d keep our brain ticking with engaging riddles, puzzles and make us sing his favourite songs on every car journey we made. He was an effortless entertainer indeed.
Dinner time conversations were more like an English class:
“Who will tell me the meaning of paraphernalia?”
“Give me a synonym for nincompoop.”
“I want you to use If, then, else in a conditional sentence. Who’ll go first?”
My sisters and I would be nudging each other under the table in the hope that the other will come up with the right answer so we can quickly get back to gluttony. Mum would steer the conversation towards delicacies of the day but nothing would make him digress from his educational moments. “Oh Common girls, give it a try! Use it in a sentence perhaps? Hmm...Supa?”
Being the oldest comes with a slight disadvantage — you are expected to know better than your siblings. I’d try to read my mum’s subtle lip syncing hints. Sometimes a hit, but mostly a miss. “Let’s try again tomorrow night, shall we?” He would cheerfully end on an ever exciting tone. He had a way with words. You could give him any topic, any time, in Hindi, English or Punjabi; with absolutely no preparation time and he could write essays on it. Correction, he could speak volumes on it. Writing wasn’t his thing really. He would get mum to take down notes as he paced the hall dictating his thoughts. He could have easily been a politician I tell ya! I wondered what good was that humdrum dinner table conversation that could have been sponsored by Grammarly in today’s time. Sadly, it took a void to appreciate that untimely vocab infusion. These words that were quizzed and explained between meals then are mysteriously my weapon now. The wise man strategically got me ready for the battlefield — the stage that I confidently take as an emcee, a host, an anchor. Words pop from nowhere — like they have been stored in a memory box all these years. The soldier is ready Sir! Sir…Sir…where are you? Oh How can I forget, I was the one to perform the heart wrenching goodbye ritual. Between the flaring flames and the contrasting ashes, all felt lost. I felt defeated.
Just once, as an acknowledgement of our survival, I could do with his reassuring touch on my shoulder. Just to know that he knows that we never gave up. That what rose from his ashes was pure phoenix like determination to succeed against all odds. That his cubs had become roaring lionesses. That we have all come into our finest elements over the passing years —led by his courageous partner — our beloved mother. Not once was she a ‘bechari’ and never did we hear words of hopelessness. It was always up, up and away! Therefore, instead of mourning his loss today, I rather celebrate our victorious stance, and most importantly, our togetherness. My comfy sneakers left me sooner than I thought. Power stilettos took over and formed a part of my ‘no mess’ personality. But whatever happened, it shaped me into the person I am today. When I get the much loved compliments off stage for my speech and diction or when I train pageant contestants on their communication skills; I silently thank my big man for his unconventional style of teaching us this global language. I imitate him unknowingly and in the process, I’ve become him knowingly.
This morning, as I poured the cereal (the right mix of coco pops and cheerios, mind you) for my already demanding 2 year old (who has just begun to baby talk) I randomly ask him “Hey Rainan! Can you say Nincompoop?” The boy cutely attempts “ummm Poop?” I chuckle away “That will do for now son. Let’s try again tomorrow, shall we?” The generation continues, so does the untimely teaching.
It’s strange how everything is just a matter of perception. Just about everything can have a positive or a negative spin. Even something as dark as death is someone’s bright light towards a spiritual journey. Two sides of the same coin like they say. It is down to us to feed the right emotion. In hope, lies our future. In faith, lies our being. We believe, therefore we are.
Weakest of hearts sometimes take the strongest of steps. If you have ever understood the loss of someone special; keep close to your heart the words I here repeat: The absence of a loved one is the presence of strength. Be strong, appreciate and shine on; for no matter how tough life gets; in many ways it’s still SUPA! ;)
COMMENTS
Beautiful words, reminded of the great personality that Mamaji was. He always stays afresh in our memories for his personality and the love he showered on us. It was a beautiful read down memory lane, learning a little more about how charming he was. God bless u always and give you the strength to be who you are, a beautiful reflection of his style and persona.
Thank you Bhabhi, you’ve known the man closely enough to understand our emotions. But it sure is an honour to bring bits of his jovial, unmatched personality to light. Fondly remembered and followed each day; I always think in different situations what would Mr Bedi say 🙂 Big hug x
Thank you for pouring yourself out on this page. Poignant, yet uplifting. Sad, yet inspiring. I have experienced the loss of a father and could read your emotions beyond your words. May nothing ever dim the light in your heart. Power power to you, Wordsmith!
A fellow writer, a loss bearer … who better to understand the raw emotion behind these words. Thank you for sharing your ordeal too. The wounds are still sore, but self healing gets us by. I do hope that you too have found your inner peace in dealing with the loss of your father. Dads are such impressionable figures that life without them seems incomplete. May be it’s this pain that gives rise to wordsmiths 😉 Do subscribe pls if at all you connect with my style of writing. Thanks again for giving it your time!
Bful. May his soul rest in peace.And all daughters r always emotionally attached wid their fathers .
Thank you Karil for giving it your time. Your constant support is much appreciated. Keep reading and pls subscribe to the blog if you haven’t already. Much love x
Beautiful memories we hv of uncle & his persona. His Reflection will always be there in u. Truely written the absence of ur loved ones gives u more strength👍👍We will always miss him🙏🙏
Di, I love how you take time out to read my posts always. I find it very encouraging so a big thank you! x
You have spent time with him to know his ‘masti’ side and I’m glad we got to learn so much from him even if it was a limited time offer. He does live on in our memories!Hugs x
Luv u sweetheart & God bless u❤️❤️🤗🤗😘😘
Supa, you couldn’t have chosen better words to describe our big man. He definitely still lives amongst us, within us. The fact that he was super spontaneous always fascinated us I guess – those impromptu English lessons, his Sunday singing sessions, the speed with which he used to climb up the stairs and the clap of hands while laughing his guts out – all of which added to his larger than life persona… and so vividly embossed in our memories. By beautifully repackaging the negative into positive, sadness into strength… you yet again prove you have a lot of him in you. You are indeed his ‘Supa sunny’ ❤️ Keep writing. Keep inspiring x
Ah sista! Thank you for those precious words. I’m glad I got to live these moments with fun siblings like you. We all have a side of him deeply embedded in us. You got his analytical skills and Sonu got his creative bug. His climb up the stairs was unparalleled, hehe how that got our hearts beating fast whenever we were up to something naughty! But the most beautiful thing I remember him by is ‘hope’. Everything had a solution – the ‘dekhi jayegi attitude’. Nothing fazed him! Kudos to his spirit. I hope we continue to live life like him – Supa King size indeed! 😉
That’s splendid Cuz!! Well written memoir- “Cubs have become roaring lionesses” . You are the Phoenix out of his ashes, thats rising high!! Keep on soaring!!
Thank you big bro…there wasn’t much choice really but I’m glad we could get through it courageously. Thank you for your support in shaping me…big hug!