Dear Daughter | ✔

तीन

Dear Daughter,
It took me fourteen years and a child to realise what kind of a father I am. Now that I know, I hope you acknowledge, if not appreciate, my efforts to reconnect with you.

I have faith that one day, we will reunite, and I will be able to give your mother what she wished for. You see, faith is probably the single most important thing that has helped me recently.

I believed that one day, I would be able to communicate with my daughter, tell her what she means to me, and give her all that she missed. I do not want you to grow up believing that you have no one, for both me and you have our guardian angel. That angel was the one who gave life to me, and birth to you.

I still remember the day we met. There was a wedding that day, and your mother was dancing in the baarat. My sister and her cousin were to get married, but I guess God had another love story to work with as well.

She was beautiful, breath taking, stunning. To put it simply, no combination of the twenty-six English letters could appreciate her as much as I wanted to. It may sound cliché to you, little girl, but it was as if all breath had been knocked out of me.

I kept staring at her, and she kept sending me death glares. Her looks made me smile even more. At least she knew she had an admirer.

Hours passed by, and I still stared at her without any shame. You might be wondering why I didn't go speak to her. Well, I was too shy. I was shy to speak, but not to stare. Yes, little girl, your father was once a creep, but the good kind, for your mother, didn't feel uncomfortable under my gaze. Her words, not mine. In fact, she was the only woman who I stared at so unabashedly. I was not a man to make women feel uncomfortable, this one was just different.

Later that evening, that woman in a blue saree walked up to me. Imagine my horror at that. I was scared, and I wanted to run away, dig a pit and go hide in it from that girl, but I was frozen. With a scrutinising gaze, she finally spoke up.

"Who do you think you are?" She bellowed.

I don't know who I am, but you sure look like an angel, I wished to say. Unfortunately, all I managed was, "I-I am the bride's brother."

"And that gives you the authority to shamelessly stare at a girl?" She questioned yet again.

"I-I didn't mean to stare. I looked at you once or twice, and I couldn't take my eyes off you." I finally replied with some courage, and added, "Ma'am," after looking at her flared nose.

"Look, mister, keep your eyes low, or else you'll be playing marbles with them the next time I catch you staring at me," she threatened and walked away.

Two days passed like that in other functions, and I kept my eyes as low as possible. She never spoke to me after that during the function, but when she spoke up next, I was in for a surprise.

Anyway, I have to go right now. I do not wish to end my letter so abruptly, but I have some crisis to deal with. Goodbye, little girl!

Always and Forever,
Your Father.
May 15, 1999.