I love my father, who wakes me up with the gentle warmth of the sun.
This note is about my father, a treasure of love who has reached the fullness of his eighties. Usually, daughters are the darlings of their fathers, and in my case, it was no different. Right from childhood, I was Daddy's girl. I would proudly tell anyone who asked that I loved Daddy the most. Daddy’s hometown is Varkala. Since his father (my grandfather) was in Singapore, Daddy, along with his siblings, grew up with their mother. Daddy’s childhood was spent amidst abundance. His dream was to become an engineer, and his favorite subject was physics. It was this love for physics that made him choose it as his major for his degree. He even secured a rank in physics. However, deeply devoted to his mother, Daddy pursued her wish and joined Trivandrum Medical College for medical studies after completing his degree. My mother and father were classmates there. If you ask me whether they got married for love, I still cannot answer definitively. Mother said Daddy quietly admired her and conveyed his feelings to his family, which eventually led to their marriage. Whatever the reason, they were a perfect match for each other. Both my parents were movie lovers, and as a result, my younger brother and I grew up loving films too. Daddy would take us to watch any good English movies that were released in theaters. From the age of three, Daddy tried to cultivate a reading habit in me. Ours was a house with about 22 magazines arriving during the 1970s. Additionally, books and poetry would arrive by mail every month. That’s why I developed a deep affection for books. Being the first child of my parents, I grew up cherished not just by them but by my extended family and the community. My childhood was privileged, enjoying the benefits of a joint family setup. I grew up experiencing all the comforts and joys of a large household. When I was in the second grade, we moved to a new house. There is much to say about my childhood, but I will save that for another time. Today, I want to talk about my father. Both my parents initially worked at Trivandrum Medical College. Subsequently, they were transferred to various places based on government orders—Calicut, Kottayam, Alappuzha, Thrissur, and Kannur Medical Colleges. Because of this, my schooling also took place in different locations, including Trivandrum, Calicut, Alappuzha, and Thrissur. When I completed the ninth grade, Daddy was transferred to Alappuzha Medical College, and since I was very attached to him, I insisted on going with him for my tenth grade. Switching schools in tenth grade was a rare move. I moved from the reputed Holy Angels' School to the aided school, St. Joseph’s. Daddy even spoke to the bishop to secure my admission. During my younger classes, I was lazy about studying. I’ve been punished many times for not answering questions correctly. Daddy would use a cane and my legs would be swollen from the beatings. But after I fell asleep, he would quietly apply Boroline cream on the swollen areas and comfort me. Under the blanket, I would notice tears in Daddy’s eyes. Feeding me was also quite a task. Since I could remember, Daddy was the one who would feed me. He would mix all the curries with rice and feed me, telling stories about road rollers—my favorite vehicle at the time. Daddy would create new stories every day, and I would listen with my mouth wide open, eagerly awaiting the next bite. No matter what illness I had, I always went to Daddy. The first time I got my period, I misunderstood it as blood cancer and rushed to Daddy. Surprised, he handed me over to Mother. That was the bond we shared. Daddy always ensured I had medicine for my monthly cramps, comforted me during fevers, and even prepared warm milk early in the morning when I struggled with chest congestion. Even during my time at medical college, Daddy would feed me and care for me like no one else. Daddy was always a simple man, unbothered by appearances. He would step out in his home clothes, sometimes with buttons missing from his shirt. He had no interest in fancy attire but loved electronic gadgets. To this day, he sets aside every gift—be it a perfume or a shirt—for us. For Daddy, the world revolved around his wife and children. Daddy was different from others in many ways. His patients, most of whom were cancer patients, became part of our family. I watched him care for them like his own, even to the extent of finding money hidden under the sofa or chairs because Daddy wouldn’t charge them. His compassion taught me a lot during my medical studies. When asked at a class reunion about the happiest moment of his life, Daddy’s reply was instant—seeing my face for the first time. Mother had expected him to say the day they first met. Even now, she teases him about it. Life moved forward happily until one day, during a personal crisis, I spoke harshly to Daddy. I used words I shouldn’t have, and he cried. Today, when I think of it, my heart breaks. Parents’ love is unparalleled, and you truly realize their value when you become a parent yourself. Over time, I learned from my mistakes, and my only goal now is to make my parents happy. Daddy has forgiven all my wrongs and still stands by me through every difficulty. My only prayer now is that Daddy continues to play with my children and stays with us for as long as possible. If anyone asks, I proudly say—Daddy is my hero.
