My memories of my father

The First & Foremost responsibility of the King - PROTECTION

I guess the title says it all. We all know that the first and foremost responsibility of a king is protection. It is after all his duty to protect his kingdom, his people, his name and his family. Similarly, as I said earlier, a father is the first person who vows protection for his girl. He tries to protect her from anything and everything that he fears might hurt her.

             When we are young, we find it adorable and call them super heroes, which is kind of true because they would (and I am not exaggerating here, but stating the facts) be willing to even give up their life, if that is what it takes to keep you alive and happy. But when we grow up, at times, we find it annoying, because the same protective nature all of a sudden feels too restrictive and authoritative. 

         Anyways, I am not here to discuss teen issues, so, coming back to my point, a father tries (and in most of the cases, succeeds) to protect his daughter from every thing. And when I say everything, I mean everything, from something as negligible as a pin prick to something as severe as a stalking sociopath.

                    I am sure most of us have numerous anecdotes to quote when it comes to displaying our dad's heroism, but there is an incident imprinted in my mind from my early childhood days that remains one of the most special memory I ever had of him.

                     'Diwali', an Indian festival, is undoubtedly the favorite of most of the Indians, especially the kids. It is very important to me too, for various reasons that I will talk about later, with this incident being one of them. The second best thing to Diwali celebrations is the eve of Diwali, and the shopping done on that day for the festival. Personally, I am one of those very few girls who hate shopping, but this shopping, for those amazing crackers and brilliant lights was an altogether different level of fun. On that day, the only thing moms are bothered about is getting all the items necessary for the prayer- the idols, the lamps, the sweets, the flowers, the fruits, the copper coins, what not. And all that dads and kids care about are the bright, crazy, colorful, noisy firecrackers we get to burst on Diwali.

            It was the year 1996, I was in my second grade. We lived in Kanpur then, a city in Uttar Pradesh, a northern state of India. Diwali almost always comes in the mid November, sometimes differing by coming sooner in October. So the temperature is always very low and the climate foggy in this time of the year here. On the eve of Diwali, late in the evening, we, like most other families in the city, went out for shopping. My dad drove a Bajaj Chetak scooter in those days, which was the current trend back then.

        The market we went to was called as the 'Lal Bungalow', and was at the heart of the city, attracting people from all over, hence becoming the most crowded place during festivals. The first part of the shopping was always mum's. Before we could have any fun, she insisted that the important work should be done with first. So, on reaching the market, we parked beside a lane that was too narrow to be traveled by any other way than on foot and let her go in on her own and waited outside for her to return back (Yes, we were the kind of father and daughter who really did not care what happened in the prayer room as long as we had enough sweets to eat and firecrackers to play with, so, no, we were not bothered about that shopping part).

                The market was a very happening place for a kid like me. It was filled with colors, noise, people hustling around everywhere, vendors screaming out their lungs about their goods, kids pleading with their parents to get them candies(not that I didnt do it, I did too),it was like a circus without the animals. It was just as much fun. I was sitting on the scooter pillion, with my dad standing a few yards away, watching all around and trying to absorb anything and everything I saw around me. To see so many people around me smiling in joy always made me happy and this was one such moment. Everything was going great until a bull entered the store right opposite to us.

              The store I am talking about here was a huge grocery store built in the shape of a 'U', with the top ends marking the entry and the exit.No one realized that the bull was deranged until it went running inside the store. It was quite a huge bull, considering the fact that my dad was about 5"10' and it was just a foot or so less than him. (No, I am not exaggerating, you do find bulls of such sizes in the north). Every one in the store fled for their lives and those standing outside were busy laughing at them. I looked at my dad at that instant wondering if he would laugh too. He was frowning. This was another thing I loved about him. He cared and empathized, he never ridiculed(although the same can't be said for him when he was young) someone at their plight.

                   I was too busy staring at my dad to notice where the raging  bull was charging towards next. I saw his eyes widen in fear as his eyes moved from somewhere to me. I followed the path of his gaze in reverse wondering what had scared him(I was sure my super hero was not scared of anything and I had never seen that expression on his face before.) and saw the bull coming straight at me. The moment I saw this, my mind screamed at me-RUN! GET DOWN THE SCOOTER AND RUN AWAY FROM THE BULL. But my body had gone numb. I was frozen there with my eyes staring at the bull and my hands and legs unable to move from there.

               The crazy bull was hardly a feet away from me when I saw my dad appear out of nowhere and tackle the bull by its horns. It took him quite a few minutes or so it felt to tackle it to ground. The part that hurt the most was that no one around us came to help. All they did was stare. Every passing second of those few minutes were inexplicable agony for me, where I kept dreading that it might be his last night on earth.

              Once the bull was put to ground, everyone came around him, applauding him and he was lost in the crowd. I could not see him anymore. I panicked again for a moment before realizing that someone was holding my hand. Unsurprisingly enough for you, but surprisingly enough for me, it was my dad. The moment I saw his tousled hair and injured hand, I burst into tears. I screamed at him saying, "What were you thinking? You could have died. You know I can't live without you, right?". To which his simple reply was, "What were you thinking? You would have died if I had not come in between. You think I would have let that happen? You know I can't live without you either, right?".

                It was not so much of what he did but what he said that made him my everlasting hero. He promised me that night that he would never let anything in the world ever hurt me and that I could and should live my life without fear.He is a man of his words. It has been about 15 years since then. He has kept his side of the promise till now and I know he will till the end of my journey on this Earth.

                And so my dad became my true hero.From that day till now, there has not been a single day that I have faced a hurdle in my life without his presence beside me. He taught me that there is nothing wrong in fearing something, but it is wrong when you hold on to that fear of yours instead of overcoming it.

                 Being a princess, I was not the only royalty of my family. I shared that royalty with my father- the greatest King I owe my life to in one too many ways.