“Papa, Papa” shrieked my nine year old son, phenomenally carrying out his ritual of rampant tantrums. With my office tie jostled in my neck and shirt hanging loosely out of my trousers, I looked at those innocent big eyes, hopefully gazing towards me.
“Beta…it’s a bit of white, a little yellow and very... very... very... litte red.” I chanted, perhaps for the hundredth time to my dear soul. I never knew, explaining a nine year old regarding the recipe of face colour, can be so Herculean.“Oh and what if we use more of red?” asked Shanu, as if calculating a very difficult portion of mental maths. Now he had cosily rested in my laps, with his chart paper piling on both of us and brush safely struck in between his teeth.“You get a red Indian” I joked, not understanding what my joke meant. My child, smiled, as usual, empathising with my poor humour. I felt as if I could capture the moment. If only I could also paint my life, with a single stroke of brush…all even…all straight. Since, my son could not mingle the colours well; I geared up for the mission painting. In less than an hour, we had not only the chart paper painted, but also our face. We were looking like typical wall painters, drenched in sweat and paint.Finally, the perfect picture gazed at us. Shanu had drawn him and me, standing in front of a tree, holding hands. I was wearing the same tie, shirt and trousers. Thank God, he did not fit me in those latest capries and skirts, he is so found of. Afterall, he cannot wear them and this makes him curious.
It was already late night and we had not had our dinner. So, I picked up my little kiddie on my shoulders and entered the kitchen. We were both singing( rather shouting), the tune of Love Story5050.“Papa…papa…maggie” he ordered. Since, I knew it was what he preferred eating on Thursdays; I did not have the problem in locating the Maggie packets. He kept on counting, checking whether this time; I could cook his delicious dish in 2mins… I tell you, children have their own small ways of bringing challenge and laughter in your life. Well, you can see mine. Sometimes, it was maggie, or the little dog dodo, or the watchman, or simply football!!!When my little devil, finally rested on my lap for eating the dinner(cooked in five minutes) he suddenly turned morose. Easily getting to know the redness of his face colour, I asked him the matter. See, painting is important!!!“Papa, I think, I am in love.” He said, after a lot of stroking. Well, I was not shocked. He was my kid after all. If I had eleven infatuations till my marriage, my son was on the right age to commence the fantasy. But then....nine was a bit too early. The defensive father in me, tried evolving but then, i closed my eyes, opened them again and grew attentive. Afterall, it was a man to man business.“Who is she?’ I asked, turning all my attention to my tender life. Being a single father was difficult, but not impossible. After the death of my lovely wife, we both lived all alone. Though like all mothers, even mine persuaded me to marry. But no girl ever touched my heart. I was not wishing to indulge into any relationship which would distract me from my son. I didnot have a childhood sweetheart, whom I could meet after 8 years(Kuch nahin hota hai)...Neither, I knew basketball...(boring me)“I wont tell you…I just want to tell her that I love her...” said my son, as if repeating the gospel of truth, most boys announce.( Thanks God, he didnot have a wedding ring ready in his pocket)“So, do you want me to talk to her parents?” I asked, keeping my face very straight. I just prayed that my eyes did not gleam, revealing my mischievous self. Well, I wasnot those kind of dare devil dads who believed “I am Hitler, if you are Stifler”. Comeon, its 21st century...I was ready to have a 9 year old daughter in law. Cooking one more maggie packet wont irk me!“So, you want to write something for her?” I asked, in a suggestive manner, calmly stroking his head. Was it Hippocampus or cerebellum, which controlled the brain…but my son was talking like a man.“I want to write a letter…I want to tell her, how important she is for me” he said bluntly. Guts, glory and gumption…well, perhaps, this is what brave people flaunt of. After all, everything is possible in love and war, even making your father write a love letter for your kitten garden girlfriend. I never ever dared to ask this to my father. So, my son should!!! Change man...change!!!Obeying his orders, I just searched for a notepad and a pen. After it, I sat back, embracing my child tightly. Great people say “Pen it down, when idea does sound”…Hmmm, it tried rhyming it, but perhaps it did not. I was pathetic at writing.“So, I want to ask you, what all, I can write about, if I love her?” he questioned me, as if I had done my PhD in this. Sons will be sons and their fathers would be laughter buns. Writing was impossible for me, may be this was the reason why I always couldn’t flirt with girl friends. I never knew how to express my deep feelings. I never ever knew, how to even propose Shilpa (my wife), though it was an arranged marriage. I could bend on my knees for hours, with the ring in my hand. But i could never ever have a small card, stuffed in my pocket, telling how much she had meant and still did.
I just knew saying “I love you, I miss you and lots of Mwah” But writing something which could touch a women’s heart, was a no no. It used to shudder me, paralyse me...“You know Vishal, you have the most innocent heart in this world. But only if you could say me, write to me, at least…all what goes inside you….I would have been so fortunate.” cribbed Shilpa, all the time. In response, I used to embrace her tightly and make her listen to my heart beat. I always felt that silence was the best manner to reveal the unspoken. At times, i questioned my self, how would I feel if Shilpa did this silent business. But my heart was not strong enough to face the answer. Girls are emotional beings, after all...good at reading writing. Men like me are nincompoops...“Well, Shanu…you can write about her smile…” I said, after contemplating a lot. I wanted to be an all rounder for my kiddie, in spite of the fact that I was a failure when it came to writing. I donot know how and why, but i could imagine Leonardo painting Monalisa's rare smile...“Then?” He looked at me with those appealing eyes. Its rightly said that children are the reflection of their parents. Shanu’s big eyes, were those of Shilpa…I could feel it was Shilpa asking me...but once again, i was speechless... Old habits, die hard.“You can write about her eyes…how beautiful they are” I said, studying the face of my son, praying that I was able to cast a good impression on him.
Though, he was busy in gulping down Maggie, his body language revealed he was totally absorbed in my stupid stuff.“What else?” he questioned, quite directly.“You say about her dress…how beautiful she looks” I said, simultaneously thinking if a nine year old girl would look beautiful or cute in her school uniform?“Do we love people only because of smile, eyes and dress?” he asked. To be very frank, I never expected a nine year old to ask this. I believe I loved Shilpa the most, but why did I? what exactly was the feeling? Why was it still there when she was not ? Well, it could not be because of her smile, eyes and dress for sure. There was something else, that made me remember her, everytime i woke and went to sleep. Maybe a silent promise, maybe a connection...may be...yes! she made me complete...so my soul always craved for her, from dusk to dawn.“Shanu…you can write how special you feel when you are with her….” I stated, now seriously gearing up into the entire question answer round of love.“I feel complete with her.” He announced slowly. Finally, I was hitting at the right point. Shanu was looking very directly towards me. I just embraced him a little more. God bless him and his soul….. That day, i wrote Shilpa a small letter and kept it beside her photo. It read
"Dear Shilpa...I donot know, if you can read it, but i do love you. You did and still will, make me complete. God Bless You.Your love...Vishal"***Years passed by to this incident and Shanu grew. We stayed together till he was in his high school. Later, he competed Indian Military Academy and went by. Times changed and I, the old man was busy in searching for a suitable bride for my son. Then suddenly one day, I remembered about this long forgotten childhood sweetheart of his. I had tried asking him, whether he ever wrote a letter or not…But he never discussed on this issue. He was in army now!!! Guts glory and gumption were for much more important issues now!
Even I had much more important things to do, so this small love story went forgotten by my side too…Now he was a 26 year old man. A grown up guy! I had to talk to him. At times, childhood love is unforgettable. I never had one, so i could dream at least that my son has!!!
So, I did not want my son to shove it off, only to repent later. God knows, whether they were friends or just it was a small infatuation. But the manner in which Shanu had announced that day, it seemed so serious. I had to at least, know who this girl was… Since I knew that he would never tell me, I thought asking his best friend would be a right idea. Though, it might insane to you, it was really getting me worried. I asked Yash to come over for a small talk, as he was there in the town during for some domestic reasons.“So, how’s work going on, beta” I asked him. It seems funny when I think, but years ago I could have Yash and Shanu in my lap…not anymore for sure.“Its hectic. No time for masti and freedom.” He cribbed. Well, its natural. Everyone has to face this share of mad life…till you get addicted to it.“Dear…I don't know how to ask but there is one matter which has been really perturbing me for a while’ I commenced for the hot discussion. Though, it was quite illegal (Well, I am lawyer, if I forgot to say)…to enquire about your son’s love life. But then, I had to do it, today or tomorrow. Yash… obediently gestured me to question further.“You know, years ago…when Shanu was around nine, he revealed about his little crush. I hope, it was someone in his school and all. I don't know, I just want to know what happened after it and all…” I said, opening all my doubts.Yash looked a bit surprised. He sat silent for a while, as if, rewinding his memories spent with Shanu.“Uncle, there could not be any girl, at that stage, from our school to be precise’ he said “If you actually remember, Shanu had been in a boys school till high school. Moreover, we hardly had any lady teacher teaching us…” he revealed. How could I forget that my son was in a boy’s school? It all seemed so stupid now!“As far as Shanu is considered, he can never have a girl in his life. Even now, he doesn't have. He says he loves only one person….” And with these words…Yash went silent…Perhaps something crossed his mind. Though, suddenly, he again turned to his normal self and diverted from the topic. I could feel he was uneasy about this discussion, so I did not pester him. But, now I was sure that there was some girl, though not in school. There was someone my son loved so much and continued to do so….I had no more words to talk of…. I bid a hearty adieu to Yash and went of to my work, though it no longer interested me so much now.After few days, Yash emailed me. He had told that it was something urgent and official. This is how it goes…Dear UncleThat day you asked me about the letter and Shanu’s love. Well, that year, we were asked to write an essay on “Whom do you love most” and I should tell you that Shanu’s essay was the best. That’s the reason why its still preserved in my mail box. You can have a look at it.Whom Do you Love MostI thought of eyes, I thought of smile, I thought of dress…and with all of this, I thought of You Papa. Your eyes, hiding the pain of this being alone, your smile giving me the love I want, your dress, never ironed as mine…all says how much you love me.You made me walk, touching my little finger. You gave me the fighter planes, the cars I wanted. You never ever allowed me to sleep alone and always had me preserved in your lap. You were at times worried, what if life stole me also, that it did to mom. But I love you the most and will never ever leave you. I know, you cannot tell me all this, like other fathers do but I know that even my mother resides in you. You are my everything I ever could pray for, fight for and live for. You gave me those good night kisses and those hearty laugh which made my day. I never was a weak chap infront of you and neither were you a Hitler. You make me so very complete dear father that even of you are not there with me, miles apart, I won’t love anyone else as much as I Love you dear Papa”
“Beta…it’s a bit of white, a little yellow and very... very... very... litte red.” I chanted, perhaps for the hundredth time to my dear soul. I never knew, explaining a nine year old regarding the recipe of face colour, can be so Herculean.“Oh and what if we use more of red?” asked Shanu, as if calculating a very difficult portion of mental maths. Now he had cosily rested in my laps, with his chart paper piling on both of us and brush safely struck in between his teeth.“You get a red Indian” I joked, not understanding what my joke meant. My child, smiled, as usual, empathising with my poor humour. I felt as if I could capture the moment. If only I could also paint my life, with a single stroke of brush…all even…all straight. Since, my son could not mingle the colours well; I geared up for the mission painting. In less than an hour, we had not only the chart paper painted, but also our face. We were looking like typical wall painters, drenched in sweat and paint.Finally, the perfect picture gazed at us. Shanu had drawn him and me, standing in front of a tree, holding hands. I was wearing the same tie, shirt and trousers. Thank God, he did not fit me in those latest capries and skirts, he is so found of. Afterall, he cannot wear them and this makes him curious.
It was already late night and we had not had our dinner. So, I picked up my little kiddie on my shoulders and entered the kitchen. We were both singing( rather shouting), the tune of Love Story5050.“Papa…papa…maggie” he ordered. Since, I knew it was what he preferred eating on Thursdays; I did not have the problem in locating the Maggie packets. He kept on counting, checking whether this time; I could cook his delicious dish in 2mins… I tell you, children have their own small ways of bringing challenge and laughter in your life. Well, you can see mine. Sometimes, it was maggie, or the little dog dodo, or the watchman, or simply football!!!When my little devil, finally rested on my lap for eating the dinner(cooked in five minutes) he suddenly turned morose. Easily getting to know the redness of his face colour, I asked him the matter. See, painting is important!!!“Papa, I think, I am in love.” He said, after a lot of stroking. Well, I was not shocked. He was my kid after all. If I had eleven infatuations till my marriage, my son was on the right age to commence the fantasy. But then....nine was a bit too early. The defensive father in me, tried evolving but then, i closed my eyes, opened them again and grew attentive. Afterall, it was a man to man business.“Who is she?’ I asked, turning all my attention to my tender life. Being a single father was difficult, but not impossible. After the death of my lovely wife, we both lived all alone. Though like all mothers, even mine persuaded me to marry. But no girl ever touched my heart. I was not wishing to indulge into any relationship which would distract me from my son. I didnot have a childhood sweetheart, whom I could meet after 8 years(Kuch nahin hota hai)...Neither, I knew basketball...(boring me)“I wont tell you…I just want to tell her that I love her...” said my son, as if repeating the gospel of truth, most boys announce.( Thanks God, he didnot have a wedding ring ready in his pocket)“So, do you want me to talk to her parents?” I asked, keeping my face very straight. I just prayed that my eyes did not gleam, revealing my mischievous self. Well, I wasnot those kind of dare devil dads who believed “I am Hitler, if you are Stifler”. Comeon, its 21st century...I was ready to have a 9 year old daughter in law. Cooking one more maggie packet wont irk me!“So, you want to write something for her?” I asked, in a suggestive manner, calmly stroking his head. Was it Hippocampus or cerebellum, which controlled the brain…but my son was talking like a man.“I want to write a letter…I want to tell her, how important she is for me” he said bluntly. Guts, glory and gumption…well, perhaps, this is what brave people flaunt of. After all, everything is possible in love and war, even making your father write a love letter for your kitten garden girlfriend. I never ever dared to ask this to my father. So, my son should!!! Change man...change!!!Obeying his orders, I just searched for a notepad and a pen. After it, I sat back, embracing my child tightly. Great people say “Pen it down, when idea does sound”…Hmmm, it tried rhyming it, but perhaps it did not. I was pathetic at writing.“So, I want to ask you, what all, I can write about, if I love her?” he questioned me, as if I had done my PhD in this. Sons will be sons and their fathers would be laughter buns. Writing was impossible for me, may be this was the reason why I always couldn’t flirt with girl friends. I never knew how to express my deep feelings. I never ever knew, how to even propose Shilpa (my wife), though it was an arranged marriage. I could bend on my knees for hours, with the ring in my hand. But i could never ever have a small card, stuffed in my pocket, telling how much she had meant and still did.
I just knew saying “I love you, I miss you and lots of Mwah” But writing something which could touch a women’s heart, was a no no. It used to shudder me, paralyse me...“You know Vishal, you have the most innocent heart in this world. But only if you could say me, write to me, at least…all what goes inside you….I would have been so fortunate.” cribbed Shilpa, all the time. In response, I used to embrace her tightly and make her listen to my heart beat. I always felt that silence was the best manner to reveal the unspoken. At times, i questioned my self, how would I feel if Shilpa did this silent business. But my heart was not strong enough to face the answer. Girls are emotional beings, after all...good at reading writing. Men like me are nincompoops...“Well, Shanu…you can write about her smile…” I said, after contemplating a lot. I wanted to be an all rounder for my kiddie, in spite of the fact that I was a failure when it came to writing. I donot know how and why, but i could imagine Leonardo painting Monalisa's rare smile...“Then?” He looked at me with those appealing eyes. Its rightly said that children are the reflection of their parents. Shanu’s big eyes, were those of Shilpa…I could feel it was Shilpa asking me...but once again, i was speechless... Old habits, die hard.“You can write about her eyes…how beautiful they are” I said, studying the face of my son, praying that I was able to cast a good impression on him.
Though, he was busy in gulping down Maggie, his body language revealed he was totally absorbed in my stupid stuff.“What else?” he questioned, quite directly.“You say about her dress…how beautiful she looks” I said, simultaneously thinking if a nine year old girl would look beautiful or cute in her school uniform?“Do we love people only because of smile, eyes and dress?” he asked. To be very frank, I never expected a nine year old to ask this. I believe I loved Shilpa the most, but why did I? what exactly was the feeling? Why was it still there when she was not ? Well, it could not be because of her smile, eyes and dress for sure. There was something else, that made me remember her, everytime i woke and went to sleep. Maybe a silent promise, maybe a connection...may be...yes! she made me complete...so my soul always craved for her, from dusk to dawn.“Shanu…you can write how special you feel when you are with her….” I stated, now seriously gearing up into the entire question answer round of love.“I feel complete with her.” He announced slowly. Finally, I was hitting at the right point. Shanu was looking very directly towards me. I just embraced him a little more. God bless him and his soul….. That day, i wrote Shilpa a small letter and kept it beside her photo. It read
"Dear Shilpa...I donot know, if you can read it, but i do love you. You did and still will, make me complete. God Bless You.Your love...Vishal"***Years passed by to this incident and Shanu grew. We stayed together till he was in his high school. Later, he competed Indian Military Academy and went by. Times changed and I, the old man was busy in searching for a suitable bride for my son. Then suddenly one day, I remembered about this long forgotten childhood sweetheart of his. I had tried asking him, whether he ever wrote a letter or not…But he never discussed on this issue. He was in army now!!! Guts glory and gumption were for much more important issues now!
Even I had much more important things to do, so this small love story went forgotten by my side too…Now he was a 26 year old man. A grown up guy! I had to talk to him. At times, childhood love is unforgettable. I never had one, so i could dream at least that my son has!!!
So, I did not want my son to shove it off, only to repent later. God knows, whether they were friends or just it was a small infatuation. But the manner in which Shanu had announced that day, it seemed so serious. I had to at least, know who this girl was… Since I knew that he would never tell me, I thought asking his best friend would be a right idea. Though, it might insane to you, it was really getting me worried. I asked Yash to come over for a small talk, as he was there in the town during for some domestic reasons.“So, how’s work going on, beta” I asked him. It seems funny when I think, but years ago I could have Yash and Shanu in my lap…not anymore for sure.“Its hectic. No time for masti and freedom.” He cribbed. Well, its natural. Everyone has to face this share of mad life…till you get addicted to it.“Dear…I don't know how to ask but there is one matter which has been really perturbing me for a while’ I commenced for the hot discussion. Though, it was quite illegal (Well, I am lawyer, if I forgot to say)…to enquire about your son’s love life. But then, I had to do it, today or tomorrow. Yash… obediently gestured me to question further.“You know, years ago…when Shanu was around nine, he revealed about his little crush. I hope, it was someone in his school and all. I don't know, I just want to know what happened after it and all…” I said, opening all my doubts.Yash looked a bit surprised. He sat silent for a while, as if, rewinding his memories spent with Shanu.“Uncle, there could not be any girl, at that stage, from our school to be precise’ he said “If you actually remember, Shanu had been in a boys school till high school. Moreover, we hardly had any lady teacher teaching us…” he revealed. How could I forget that my son was in a boy’s school? It all seemed so stupid now!“As far as Shanu is considered, he can never have a girl in his life. Even now, he doesn't have. He says he loves only one person….” And with these words…Yash went silent…Perhaps something crossed his mind. Though, suddenly, he again turned to his normal self and diverted from the topic. I could feel he was uneasy about this discussion, so I did not pester him. But, now I was sure that there was some girl, though not in school. There was someone my son loved so much and continued to do so….I had no more words to talk of…. I bid a hearty adieu to Yash and went of to my work, though it no longer interested me so much now.After few days, Yash emailed me. He had told that it was something urgent and official. This is how it goes…Dear UncleThat day you asked me about the letter and Shanu’s love. Well, that year, we were asked to write an essay on “Whom do you love most” and I should tell you that Shanu’s essay was the best. That’s the reason why its still preserved in my mail box. You can have a look at it.Whom Do you Love MostI thought of eyes, I thought of smile, I thought of dress…and with all of this, I thought of You Papa. Your eyes, hiding the pain of this being alone, your smile giving me the love I want, your dress, never ironed as mine…all says how much you love me.You made me walk, touching my little finger. You gave me the fighter planes, the cars I wanted. You never ever allowed me to sleep alone and always had me preserved in your lap. You were at times worried, what if life stole me also, that it did to mom. But I love you the most and will never ever leave you. I know, you cannot tell me all this, like other fathers do but I know that even my mother resides in you. You are my everything I ever could pray for, fight for and live for. You gave me those good night kisses and those hearty laugh which made my day. I never was a weak chap infront of you and neither were you a Hitler. You make me so very complete dear father that even of you are not there with me, miles apart, I won’t love anyone else as much as I Love you dear Papa”
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