TO SOME BIZZARE SUNDAYS

Today was a bizarre Sunday, which went slogging like a Monday. When I finally got some breathing space and decided to think about what to write today, I realized, I am staring at the last hour of the Father’s Day floating past me. Weird, that’s how Papa’s Sunday used to go. A working week, followed by a hectic Sunday.

Though some Sunday mornings were an exception. A morning ride to the Mandi carrying three different sized Jhola. A tutorial on how to differentiate between good looking tomato and fresh tomato. A weekly reminder that capsicum is Maa’s favourite vegetable because otherwise, we would never buy it (the men of the house have no love for Capsicum). A guideline on how to arrange the vegetables, bottom to up, hard to soft, and an unspoken law that fruits are always bought at the last. Finally, a hope-filled ride back home, that we would take Samosas and Jalebi for the breakfast from the shop we have been buying from since I remember eating Samosa.

This was the one routine that has been followed for the longest of all the time we have spent together.

Some afternoons were lucky. This time though, the bike turned towards the butcher shop. I once saw a lamb playing with the kids of the family running the shop. I was confused. How could they play with the lamb raised to get slaughtered one day? Would they feel nothing? I think Papa read those questions as I looked at the happy lamb. He suddenly started telling me how even though butchers trade in meat, the lamb raised in their house is not killed.

For a while, I thought Papa knew how to cook Non-Vegetarian food only. It tasted otherworldly, so never questioned why.

I have seen Papa writing in Hindi mostly, communicating in Hindi mostly. It was because of the nature of his job, but it never dawned on me back then. Maybe that’s why I was taken aback and found it quite amusing when I saw Papa communicating with my teacher in English, the only time he did. It was like something you just didn’t expect, followed by his amused face at my reaction.

These are the only things I could jot down before the clock ticks 12, and Father’s Day goes for a bike ride till another year. But is this all I have to say about Papa? Not even close.

Happy Father’s Day, Papa.

You caught me by surprise this morning 😅