I lost my Dad on Sunday. We were never really close. When I was growing up, our conversations were usually functional. His "Do this" versus my "I want". He was a strict - sometimes stupidly so - disciplinarian, who didn't see any cruelty in giving a college-going son a rupee a day for pocket money. Still, he was a man I respected and admired, mainly because of his insistence on doing the right thing. That respect came crashing down, however, when I discovered that he was just a man of straw, not the honest principled man I thought he was. And the conversations ceased between us, even the functional ones. His ego didn't allow him to acknowledge his mistakes and make amends.
He was not a bad man. Neither a bad father. I didn't have an unhappy childhood. But when I try and think back of happy moments spent together - just he and I - no memories come rushing back.
We never made our peace, Dad. Perhaps, I never will. But you rest in peace, Dad, rest in peace.
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