My father and I have a very volatile relationship. We fight constantly over the tiniest of things, ranging from Narendra Modi to the right way to peel an onion, but we always reconcile in less than five minutes. But from time to time our fights turn ugly and it takes a day or two for things to return to normal.
This happened years ago. I must have been fourteen or so and Father’s Day was fast approaching. I had some money saved up and I visited the local Archie’s and finalised on a little book with each page proclaiming the superhuman qualities of Dads in general. I wrote a super sweet note for him and waited till Father’s Day to give him the book. As fate would have it, we had our next big ugly fight on the special day. Funnily enough, I can’t even remember what the fight was about but there were raised voices and tears. I threw the book inside my wardrobe in a fit of rage. Soon the fight was forgotten and everything went back to normal. I forgot about the book too. Very recently, and this is nearly ten years after the incident, I was home for the holidays and I was looking in my Dad’s cupboard for something, and there nestled among his precious booze bottles was my little book. He had found it and he had kept it. It was just so sweet. It was like a testimony of our relationship. We might fight and scream but at the end of the day, we both love each other to the moon and back.