A Gift To Father

A Gift To Father

My (our) father and uncles would not recognize the modern Fathers Day. In that age father used to dutifully observe our grandfather’s yearly anniversary according to our local lunar calendar. Our parents remembered those essential days, the days that fall exactly on a particular phase of the moon in one of the twelve lunar months. The village priest (పురోహితుడు) too would remember his clients’ dates and touch base with father the previous day to hint about preparations. Thus, the tradition continued for generations despite the financial troubles of the families. Each person would observe such remembrances with diligence according to their (financial) abilities. Our parents would rather go without tea or sugar or skip a meal or miss a movie, but they would always perform the (forefathers’) anniversary nicely. That means at least two priests and freshly cooked seven course meals. The guests’ (officiating priests) satisfaction is the primary objective.

Father liked photography. He was an accomplished artist well versed with oil paint, brushes, colors, and movie slide making. He could easily discern imperfections in prints, blurring, lack of focus, or improper masking. Father also was a skilled watchmaker (repairs man) and he liked keeping alarm clocks and wall clocks well tuned. Nothing perturbed him as much as a wall clock chiming the wrong hours or out of sync with the Radio.

No gift can express my gratitude to our dear father. This photo of a white pinkish fragrant peony flower may express what is not communicable in words or thoughts. Father always liked clean white dresses. As much as I can remember he always wore white shirt (short or long sleeves) (చొక్కా) and white dhoti (పంచె). A simple watch on left hand wrist and an orange coral studded ring on right hand, a gentle smile with curly hair – he gave us happiness, courage, and authentic simplicity. Why only on Fathers Day, I miss him everyday. I carry him in my memories always.