Beautiful people : My Daddy Strongest!

http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=8F0DkM76iq0&feature=related

We all have loved the advert. There was something more to it - something that every child has for her/ his father, for example - my dad and I smile infectiously. We look-up to our dad/ daddy/ baba/appa/ papa/ poppsy very subconsciously. Today I talk about him, the cool Mr. Bennett, in the background, who gets very little space in the fore front because he's ensuring a smooth running backstage.

Last night I made dad cancel his weekend work trip to meet a very pushy boy from 'boy watching'. I liked the boy (for a change). Dad heard me out with patience, looked at the guy's credentials and flatly refused. I, being as bull headed as my dad, insisted that he met the man in question and then make his judgment. Things did not go as planned and the boy in question decided that I was 'too much for his family and him to handle'. The whole dynamics of financial disparity and conservatism got to our throats.

So it was time to tell dad that the meeting would never happen. I expected him to be furious, irate at my hasty and over confidant decision. He quietly rescheduled his trip and left the house. Returned twenty minutes later with my favorite breakfast and a movie. We sat and all he asked was, "Tell me, what went wrong?" I did, for whole two hours. He did not flinch, did not take his calls - just sat and heard me out. Then he spoke, patting my hand. 

"I can not possibly tell you what happens to a man when, he knows he's borne a daughter. More so difficult when the man is me and the daughter, you. When he sees his daughter grow with a mind of her own, with mood swings, with boys as friends, with activism that will make him the answering machine to all the relatives and a shield for his daughter. For a father, his daughter is everything that he strives for. With a son, maybe I would have been more relaxed. However, the love of a daughter is unmatched. Every father struggles through it all to make it to the top, only because he wants to give his children a better life.

With us; you were different, even as a toddler. You once got nine puppies and hid them under the bed from your mom. Silly girl, did not realize that they would not possibly stay there. When we questioned you, you said, " they did not have a house, we have a big one, so I got them here." You also brought random people home for lunches, fought for what you thought was correct - even at the age of 11; when you threw the duster back at your class teacher and we were called to school. You were a little angry idiot who understood that people could have two nationalities and there were people living between borders with no nationalities. You did not know the terms  - 'migrants, no mans land, dual citizenship'. Your fool of a teacher hit you for her incompetence and your arrogance. I knew your school was killing your IQ, so I got you books. You devoured them.

You were going to be my 'teen' nightmare. I knew that the boys would hound you, so I had my defenses ready. But you turned out to be a very responsible - and a very aggressive one. Your college activities, Poetry awards, morchas, NGO's, the Eunuchs, and other-kind of friends worried me sick. I knew you were right, but such proud exhibition of individualistic thoughts was going to get eyebrows raised. I've blamed myself for getting you into the habit of reading and latter, writing. I did not expect you to read all the books I got you, and did not expect you to continue from the 'travelogue' writing days. Your mother often complains that my encouragement of your education has led you to become a free spirit that no one can marry. What she does not realize, is that it my proud moment. It is what every father wants, that their kids become more than an extension of their personality.

I am not afraid for your future, not even that you will choose a wrong man. I won't let you. You have held every pious aspect of this family, you are an annapurna in your mother's shadow, you have raised your niece, and seen more struggle than any 28-year-old I know. You have risen, time and again, with lesser flaws and a stronger will. As a father, I have done my best to get you everything your finger pointed to. I may have been indulgent, but it is because I never wanted you to grow up with a lack of anything. You were not much of a materialistic child, I remember gifting you your first Rushdie and you said you'd treasure it for your child. You were 19 then. That was a time when your sister was buying a new outfit everyday, your cousins were comparing bags. You were happy with Midnights Children.

I never forgot you were a girl, and that you'd catch up with them. You have your share of gold, diamonds, shoes, bags and clothes. However, you are more than them, and that is what I am thankful to god for. You my princess, are not cut out to be an ordinary wife, a nagging mother and an old woman haggling over grocery prices. I see you writing, lecturing and being more inspiring than your younger counterparts. I want a partner who would, like me, know your value and give all it takes to keep you happy. I will keep refusing, till I find that man for you. It is my duty as a father.

I want a better man for you, a man who'd be just as proud to be a part of your life, as I am. I refuse to share your love with someone less worthy."

so be it...

Transparency is a very expensive commodity today. K's very happy to have a bunch full of people who share it with her :)
Capricorn Rook, Best Man, Sunshine, Torch, Drama King, Androgene, Oyster Seeker, Monarch, Childmom, Wise Capitalist, the Monk.... I love you guys. Love you for accepting and loving the chaos that i am, Because it takes courage, so I have discovered. 

from... Kinky Boots

I lurve this film. It is amongst the most inspiring, well scripted, most inyourfuckingface beautiful films I know. I watch it time and again, especially for Lola.

"Red is the color of sex. And sex should not be comfortable." I've died telling that to the beaus and friends in my life.

Loves

I love him :
in a way that love should not be discussed.
in a way that love should not be allowed to be.

Some loves are like body art,
you just have to live with the fact that you have them;
partially a fantasy, partially a scar.

Sometimes the hapless romantic in K reins over her soul, leaving her mind petrified.

It is time. I must go.

It is true that excessivism leads to wisdom. I have failed too many times to fail again. Frankly, I've outdone myself this time. Love, as you know, is my sacred department of failure. When a relationship is 'called off', 'broken' or 'dies its own death'; it is a failure - of the time, emotion and energy spent on the relationship.

I have been assuaged by many, 'it was the correct decision to make'. Nonetheless, I feel a lack, a lack that comes from being a woman. For a long time, approximately 600 days, the woman in my head provided excuses for the loop-holes in my man. However, it is common knowledge that my sex is cursed with a mind that would make most people laugh. With a hope that would make most people cry. And with a need that would make most people call us pathetic. They do call us pathetic.

Now, this is no weep-wagon. The effect, of the death of my seriously flawed relationship on me, has amazed me. (I like discovering this new me.) It is painless and turmoil free. The moving-over is smooth, and laden with content knowledge. There are many pointers that I've learnt from the Oyster Seeker. He never let the mask fall. His words were pure honey. His silence, an absolute treat. The illusion, a beauty!

A woman once told me, 'the only way to be happy in this world is to observe men.' This time, I took time out and observed them, in retrospect. I wanted to slap myself crimson, and kiss myself purple. 

Guess, it is indeed never too late to stab that woman in my head.