Letter to my Dad
Dad,
I wish we understood each other the way we did when I was 10. Now I’m 29, trying to forge a language that connects our hearts but I fail every time.
Every time I stutter a word or a sentence, I hope it might be the one that bridges the chasm between our hearts but all the words fall into the chasm.
You continue talking, while I slowly fade away into silence.
I listen to you say,
“I have been through so many struggles to nurture you, to get you to where you are,
My father was an alcoholic so I never had the opportunities you did, yet I made it to where I am.”
I blink in gratitude, but the gratitude never seems to be enough.
I hear you weave the same stories you have for the past 29 years.
The glimmer of hope in me wants to reach out to you to start a conversation anew. There’s so much I want to talk about.
I want to hear about your struggles during COVID, not through the lens of blaming the world but through the lens of optimism.
I want to tell you about my experiences, how I’m growing and learning to nurture myself.
I want to tell you about my friends, and have you be proud of me for all the beautiful souls I stumbled upon.
I want to hear about your inner most desires, not the what-ifs but the what-is.
I want to hear about your transition into early old-age, not through the lens of cursing the transition but embracing the age of wisdom.
I want to tell you about my life with Abhay, about how I discovered love so vast that I can’t see the end of it.
I want to ask you about your curiosity because I got mine from you. I am so curious about this world, dad. You know how I’ve always been a rebel growing up, arguing with you until you told me WHY I had to do what I was told to do. I was either a teacher’s favourite or completely disregarded, because my WHYs weren’t for every one. People didn’t ask WHY, so many did what they were told to do. I wasn’t like that.
You are a big reason why.
You taught me how to be bold, how to trust my voice, how to question, how to never be afraid, how to forge my path in this world even if it wasn’t walked by many.
You taught me to be curious.
Look where I am, dad. You would be proud of me, I think.
My curiosity led me to create Amigos.
My curiosity led me to graduate with high distinction.
My curiosity led me to have a great job.
All the things you thought I was capable of.
It was also my curiosity that made me realize that status, money & recognition are an illusion because I didn’t feel the way I thought I would. I thought I would be eternally happy at the finish line. How foolish was I to think there was a finish line or an eternal happiness.
So I turned around on the path I was walking and started to walk inwards.
When I started walking inwards, I thought of it as a pit-stop I had to make before returning to the illusion, but
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The more I walked, the longer & lusher the path got. There were times when it was so hard to walk on it, I broke down and at one point, I felt like I had lost my purpose in life. If I had any at all.
Then, it emerged again.
Dad, I want to tell you so much about the treasures that live inside you and I and every human being.
You bought me my first book when I was 7 or 8, from the Scholastic Book Fair.
I’m 29 now, still looking to unlock the mysteries of life through books. I continue to flip the pages of…
“Sacred Geometry”
“Upanishads”
“Ikigai”
“Hermeticism”
“The Creative Act”
“Principles of dealing with the Changing World Order”
“Never Split the Bill”
“Brave New World”
“Meditations”
“Inner Engineering”
“Mindset”
In hopes to bring all spheres of knowledge together, to understand the mechanics of this world through an overarching order which I believe exists.
I wish I could tell you about my discoveries.
Someone told me a few days ago, “You have such a good energy!”
My heart jumped a beat. Then I began to study energies. I instinctively knew the more I worked on healing myself, the more I could heal my aura which is the energy people feel when they’re around me. This study of the invisible is so interesting, dad.
I’m shocked they never taught us in school. If they only taught us about the true magic of mathematics or physics or our souls, maybe I would have less WHYs. Maybe, all of us would retain the awe towards life & the magic it holds. Maybe, all of us would crack the code to immortality through remaining a child, forever.
Dad, there’s so much I want to say but we get landlocked at hurling abuses at the past which we can’t change or worrying about the future which isn’t here.
I feel your beautiful energy dad, because I inherited mine from you.
They say you can’t change any one and you shouldn’t try to. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t tried. Maybe I’m vain. Maybe I’m a victim of my ego who thinks I know better. Or maybe, I’m just your daughter who wants to forge a language that connects our hearts…but fails every time!
I write this letter to you, Dad, very well knowing you will never get to read it.
I write this letter so it survives as proof of my love for you, even when our conversations don’t.
