Father

“How are you different from your mother?”

“I hope in as few ways as possible.”

-        Martha and Harriet, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Episode 1X05

I made a friend recently. As a single man in his mid-30s, returning to his tier-2 hometown after 13 years, making friends hasn't been easy. So when the chance came upon to have dinner with a newfound friend, I pounced on the opportunity.

The conversation led to how men spend their youth trying to rebel from their fathers, only to end up like them in so many ways. I found this weirdly conflicting and relatable. For much of my adolescence, my father wasn’t really a person I could look up to. He was that presence in my life who was annoying me. In his mind, he might have been pushing me to live better. But the constant disappointment with everything that I did was overbearing. To the point that I really didn’t care what he thought of me. The brief interactions that we did have made me wanting less. Time and distance made it easy to naturally grow apart, and we didn’t even have much to talk about. Having reached the age of 30, father was a figure who existed, but we didn’t really have what we could call a real relationship.

Come to think of it, I didn’t really have any real relationships in my life. I had friends from three different colleges. I had colleagues that I would forget the moment I changed the job. I had dates, but never a stable relationship. But I didn’t really have a relationship that I could rely on. If I were to fall sick, I didn’t have a person who would wait outside the hospital doors. For much of growing up, I was on my own.

Covid changed that. Fate brought me back not only to Kolkata, but to the family business. I now lived at home and worked with Dad, being now witness in hindsight to his life journey, with all its revelries and mistakes. Over the years, I was the one who sat outside hospital gates as I became the person the family could rely upon. This was never the plan. But life has a funny way of disposing man’s plans.

The thing that brought me back to the family was actually the business. The mismanagement of it to be precise. My father comes from a generation of free-thinking risk-takers. This was the generation of the Boomers – the ones who had the world open in front of them and charged at it with full swing. The ones who had nothing to lose. Of course they hit some and missed some. All of them had investments that had gone sour and would have made a killing if only this or that had happened.

Going over the business, I realized that Dad had expanded the business beyond what he could reasonably manage. Coming from more sophisticated jobs, I had some idea of how to organize and manage bigger businesses, but I had never shouldered the responsibility of owning anything of value. There was still much to be learnt. And that is where Dad and I started becoming a good combination. We found common ground in managing the expanding business, and could talk like adults. No more did I have to face the constant disappointment. I would report to him as I would to a senior at my office. Over time, the reporting requirements reduced to him just being a mentor I could seek advice from, but was responsible for my own decisions. In time, I understood the circumstances in which faulty decisions had been made long ago. True empathy came when I made a few bad decisions of my own. It is impossible in this world to live without making mistakes. What is needed is someone who can look at you and say, “so this happened, what next?”

As we spent more time together, I started to cherish it. For once, I had this person with whom I constantly disagreed – over politics, religion, business, and lifestyle. Yet, I constantly found myself to be more similar to him than not. I could always rely that he understands my condition, both said and unsaid. He understood the enthusiasm of youth. We connected on our pursuit of spirituality and constantly quarrelled over the correct way. Coming from totally different upbringings, we were able to offer new perspectives on old problems. Even though we disagreed on practically everything, which continues to be a constant source of irritation and anguish for me, I know that we work on the same value systems. We have common ground. And we can talk to each other like men.

Over the years I have come to consider myself luckier than most of my friends. Many of us escaped our tier-II upbringing settling in cities like Mumbai, Delhi, or Bangalore when home became the new family that we initiate. I miss that freedom and self-reliance. I have given away a part of my life to exist for the family. In that, my world has grown. I am able to spend time with my parents which could not be possible for most of my friends. I was able to spend time with my father while he could still teach me something; and I could add some value to his life. Most importantly, I had one person in my life that I could rely upon and know that his mere existence acts as a calm over the chaos that I live through.

Over the years we have planned trips together, collaborated in legal battles, took decisions for the business and the family, and just sat across the table and shared thoughts about what we are going through. Often, I would caution him against over-extending himself, either physically or financially. But I understand that he needs to feel like the risk-taking entrepreneur that made a life for himself. I cannot pull him too far back. He is old, but he is still a man. When he says that we will climb a snow-peaked hill, I cannot refuse him simply because I see the risks more clearly. Instead, I stay right behind him. And when I stay out late at night, he doesn’t question where I was. Once Mother did try to instigate him into questioning my whereabouts. He simply said that I am a grown-up and will go where I please. He respects my boundaries. It was me who had difficulty accepting his.

And so it continues. I don’t know how much time destiny shall grant me with him. There will come the inevitable time when we will have to part. I intend to cherish every bit of it. I couldn’t discover a relationship with my father while I was growing up. But it was wonderful to meet him as a grown-up. He had to make the wait while I made the climb.

It is difficult for a single man in his mid-30s, returning to his tier-2 hometown after 13 years to make friends. But you don’t really have to look very far from home to find one.