Still Daddy’s Little Girl
Updated: 6 days ago
Out of all the men in the world, daughters always say, “Fathers are the sweetest”. When I think of my childhood, the first memory I cherish to this day is how my dad encouraged me to be strong. He wanted me to be a very strong girl.
So when I was four years old, I broke a bone in my thumb finger, and it gave me a lot of trouble. The doctors said there was some minor internal distortion and that it must be operated on to improve. Upon hearing this, I reckon my father must have lost all his good senses.
Everyone knows how childish men suddenly become after fathering daughters; my father epitomised this. It was hard for him to decide what to do. To let his little daughter know the smell of medicines and the pain of toxins, nah... One day, when I went to him complaining about the pain in my thumb, he gently made me sit on his lap before saying, “Sweetheart, the more you pay attention to the pain, the stronger it will become. So stop thinking about it, and one day it will leave you.”
Turns out he was right. Well, he always is.
My mother is also a true incarnation of love; for me, she is the most lovable person ever. When I asked my daddy who he loved more, me or mummy, he immediately replied, “He loved me more,” and I can vouch that most fathers are like that.
I grew up admiring every aspect of my daddy. He is an energy ball; no matter what happened, I never saw his confidence levels drop even an inch. Now that two decades have passed, I realise that the love these fathers have for their daughters is far greater than we think. As he walks, sleeps, or even rests, my father’s thoughts always orbit his two daughters. Of course, at the envy of my mother...
Even today, when he wakes up late at night, he visits my little sister and me as we sleep. He runs his warm hands over our foreheads and checks the fans and the blankets before standing at a corner, glaring at both his daughters. Contended that he is able to provide us with the comfort of a sound sleep to his two prized possessions. For a fifty-year-old father of two daughters, that is what it means to be a man, and that is what makes them a hero. A hero he truly is! But these fathers aren’t as strong or contented as they seem. They, too, have problems, unlike us; they have real, serious concerns. So let’s not trouble them with little things.
As we grow, we slowly develop differences with our fathers. We start complaining that he checks on us, that he’s hesitant to give us pocket money for our expenses, that he’s uninterested, and that he doesn’t really understand us. Each time these thoughts strike you, you should know that you are wrong. They understand us to the core. It’s their unflinching love for us that sometimes leads to huge misconceptions in their actions. Do not develop hatred for your fathers just because you think they are objecting to a few of your pleasures. They’ve walked on the planet for half of their lives; they know how things work better than we do.
Now that they are growing older day by day, year by year, they need their daughters more than ever. When else can we reward our fathers better than now, and how better can we say thank you to the sacrifices they’ve made for us every single day than by taking care of them?
If you live with your father in the same house, remove your headphones, close the apps, and sit next to him. Pat him on his shoulder and talk to him about your day’s work. Ask him if he’s taking his medicines sincerely, and give him glasses of water at regular intervals, just as he did for you when you were a child.
Become your father’s mother, my friend, for tomorrow when his little girl goes her way away from him, to lead her own family, it’ll be the poor old father who would feel the greatest void in every breath of his life, more than anyone else.
Credits
This opinion was written by Jayshree Majji, edited by Sreekar Ayyagari and photographed by Pankaj Tottada.
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