*Father’s Day*
(English translation)My father strongly disliked celebration of any of such Days, a concept borrowed from foreign shores. At one side, me and my sister, in our usual teen hood exuberance, got magically attracted to the waving calls of glittery outer world. Whatever we saw outside (or rather made to see), we wanted to practice it at home. But Father joined us with reluctance. For last 2 years, he was not amongst us in person (he is in our minds. And obviously will remain so). But still I remember that look of his, wearing  a 10% of dumbness, 30% of curiosity, 40 % of fun and 20% of mock displeasure.My relationship with my Baba had morphed into a ‘rocking’ one during my teens. Science City was then just inaugurated at Kolkata. Baba took us there. We were awestruck seeing the magnificent scientific models. After the trip we bought a huge poster. All seven early continents clustered together at first, then there was *Continental Drift* , dinosaurs roaming at which places then – these were outlined in that poster. After that, at every evening Baba sat with us with that poster and a book. That was at my prodding. My interst in that had made him happy. But in the same room, TV was blurting out commercials. So along with the poster’s time line expeditions, I was also glancing at ‘Dhara Dhara, Suddha Dhara’ kind of jingles – usual dilemma of teen age. Attachment to books escapes to luring call of the outside world. But Baba was fully engrossed with that poster. After I grew up, the word ‘engrossed’ became synonymous with that of Baba’s posture of stooping to that poster, looking intently.
We then thought Baba to be a dumb one. It is so easy to evade him to indulge a distraction.
In fact, Baba was teaching us the ‘art’ of drifting, by bringing huge pre-historic continents to the small grounds of our real lives. When and where to leave spaces to create a new one. He was sowing such seed in my mental map.The magic and menace of growing up had also hit me in its own time. I seemed to grow up overnight. And fell to the enticing pressure of the surrounding world. One has to be ‘smart’ in looks. I started looking at Baba as an outdated man. Lot of altercations and arguments ensued at home. Now I can understand, Baba was merely provoking me. In the garb of arguments, he used to bring out a logical inference on the topic, from me only. As it happened, Baba permanently switched to Dhuti-Kurta from Pant-Shirt, started welcoming with ‘Namaskar’ in landline telephone instead of ‘Hello’. I rattled my teeth in anger, perceiving a fall of my ‘forward’ image to my friends. All my requests and stern dictates were laughed away by Baba and he went on with his newly adopted modes.I got the taste of my own medicines much later. My workplace was about 160 km away from home. I used to commute daily from home. A daily train journey of 3 hours was involved. And this travel in a Saree was real troublesome. I went to my Head Master to allow me to come in Salwar-Kameez. He got struck by a thunder.
-A lady teacher in a village school in Salwar-Kameez? Good Heavens, it will ignite fire among the villagers.
-But it is neither inappropriate nor illegal !
But he stuck to his grounds, parroting the same plea.I felt insulted. The village people do not travel by train in a Saree. They could not have any empathy to my difficulties.
The happenings led to some informal community court. At the end, my seniors in the school had secured permission for my Salwar-Kameez.It is only then that I quietly realised from that thrusting upon a dictate on wearing Saree is exactly of same genre that I tried to indulge long ago on Baba for wearing Pant-Shirt. Both are equally unjust.All human wears their own odour of taste and preferences. Making him captive of any dress code, bedeckments  or behavior is very unjust. On that day I understood the absolute comfort, peace and happiness in accepting people as they were.Self-respect, Tolerance may appear very high-sounding words. But they are very easy to imbibe in our daily lives.I have never seen him sermonizing from a high pedestal. Such gems of wisdom had spilled out casually with the context of incidents, reactions and experiences. You can share and converse with him with everything under the sun – from sand dial to Bal Gopal. With unabashed candour and frankness. After he had left us, I felt more like a loss of a dear friend. But I vouch, it is like a friend who has been added to the list. He has given me an unique mirror. It reflects those far away images which lies beyond the reach of one’s iris and pupil. I know, I will be making many errors and sins ahead in life. But looking to that mirror to see the reflection of my inner self will be my penance and sanctification. He had disappeared from this world, after making me member of it is not a fair play.
Someone unknown at the top is ceaselessly  knitting with a serpentine thread, using her needle, generations after generations. In that unending canvas of Him, Baba is always there. So, to me, Father’s Day is not for a day. It is a camaraderie for a lifetime.(End)

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লেখিকা পরিচিতি: কুন্তলা ভট্টাচার্য। মেজাজে বাঙাল,চলনে ঘটি। পুরনো জায়গায় ঘুরে বেড়ানো শখ। গান অন্ত প্রাণ। রবীন্দ্রনাথ,স্বামী বিবেকানন্দের সময়কার কোলকাতা দেখার ভীষণ ইচ্ছে। উত্তর কোলকাতার বিশেষ ভক্ত। বর্তমানে শিশুকন্যার মা হিসেবে নিজেকেও তার সমবয়সী ভাবতে সাহস রাখে। পেশা: পশ্চিমবঙ্গের একটি সীমান্তবর্তী স্কুলে দর্শনের শিক্ষিকা।