Thankfully, the changing diapers phase is well and truly behind us. But I'm not off the hook yet, for fatherhood, at least for the next 15 or 25 years - depending on where my wife and I settle down, in the US or in India. Ours may be the last (or is it lost?) generation of grownup-kids (India and elsewhere in Asia) who stayed with their parents till they were almost pushing 30. We were too comfortable to let go and our parents never thought you could overstay their welcome. A fact most amusing for my American friends who would be well and truly on their own as soon as they figured some means of earning. As one of those friends confided, better that than being booted out of the house!
Becoming a dad is an indescribably exhilarating feeling. But for me, it was not unmixed with angst. The fact that we were not allowed to determine the sex of our baby in advance, and so gloat over the possibilities. The fact that I was not allowed to accompany Usha into the delivery room and welcome my son as soon as he came into this world (though I am told that's just as well). But thinking about it now, I have no business really to be even a bit bitter about where Aakash was born. The joy and cacophony of grandparents and assorted uncles and aunts of the newborn would be unrealistic, I think, to find anywhere but at home (home still conjures up only India, at least for now). As also the festivities seeped in tradition that follow childbirth. Not to mention the support structures (close family and paid-help ... how cynical that I should talk both in the same breath?) that virtually take-over in the first few bewildering months for the new-born parents.
The changing diapers phase is behind us, yes. But like every father finds out, the last phase was probably the easiest. You get paranoid about his teeth but can't really blame him for gorging on chocolates because you like it too and so that kind of stuff is always lying around. You want him to be a model of words and action even though you are by nature, anything but. You don't want to push him too hard but can't deny the feeling of pride when he says or does something beyond his age (maybe you too are really one of 'those' parents who treat their kids like performing seals!). You love that he loves his mom so, even as you're slyly trying to score brownie points and not make a complete fool of yourself in the process {when he's desperately seeking his mom in the presence of friends and strangers, for example}.
Summer is around the corner here in Chicago and with it comes the anticipation of watching as he learns to ride the bike, playing cricket (yes!) and football, and getting those bruises and scrapes that little kids do, to make their fathers unhappy and proud at the same time. Its going to be indescribably deja vu once more and I yearn for it like nothing else.
This piece is really well-written, was fun to read!
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