It was a hot humid evening that summer, last year when I was seated comfortably in the rear seat of my chauffeur driven car. My dad used to go out for evening strolls and after an hour of slow walk used to amble home to play with my kids. Mansi also used to leave the house at the same time for her clinic. Our cars used to leave the building one after another.
We used to encounter a bus stop on the way. That day while speeding along, I saw a vaguely familiar person who was in his late sixties, bespectacled and wearing a crisp white shirt atop a grey trouser. My car screeched to a halt and I rushed out to confront my dad. I was amazed, despite 2 chauffeur driven cars around at his beck and call, he chose to travel by bus to a nearby mall.
He simply did not want to trouble us around that evening time of practice.
My dad had a passion for wearing T Shirts. He wore them with pride and they made him look so fit and young. His face used to beam with a smile. Whenever I travelled abroad, I used to get a Tshirt for him unfailingly. I used to buy the best designer brands for him. My dad had a struggle filled life and he deserved the best in the world. I used to brag about the designer label tag to him. The label gave identity and dignity to the fabric. I believed so. He had a scissor which he used to snip off the tags as they used to hurt his neck.
I was always upset with him for this but he used to casually shrug his shoulders and walk off. The brands and the tags never mattered to him.
The wine bar at my place teems with the most exotic and desired scotch whiskies in the world. My brother, friends and my foreign trips have filled the bar flush. My dad was an avid fan of whisky and we used to have parties at my place when we would have drinks with him. His glass would be always filled with Indian whisky. No amount of persuasion would make him change his mind. He used to assert that he drank what he liked. The Indian whisky was effective as it used to cheer up my dad and lighten the atmosphere. My CD player emitted Raj Kapoor songs, hummed along made the atmosphere Utopian at times. We would all float in happiness.
My dad was a self made, disciplined, selfless man.
He always sought our comfort. He lived for us.
I see the bus stop and pass along wiping my moist eyes.
