''Mummy, do you feel sad that you don't have a daddy?'', asks Rengoni, and with tears swelling up in my eyes, I reply, ''Of course, darling''...a short answer, but with so much more, stored in my heart.
For the pain, the sense of emptiness,that lump in your throat, that knot in your stomach, that unspoken grief, is too much for a six year old to understand. The loss of a parent...the loss of that person whom you consider to be invincible, who, you take for granted, that, they will forever be by your side. And then, one fine morning, the same like any other, but one where your worst nightmares come true, that chain is broken. And there is that void, a very big chasm...you cry... cry out for them, but , all to no avail. This is not your parent going off on a work related trip...this time, there is no return ticket. The finality of it all, leaves you with so much helplessness...
I lost my deuta (pronounced de-00-ta ; meaning 'father' in
Assamese) nearly fourteen years ago, very much in his prime. How vividly I remember each and every detail of that day...seems just like yesterday. It was the day that our world fell apart...the endless flood of tears that poured from our eyes at the loss of this wonderful man in our lives. How copiously ma wept for the man with whom she had spent the greater part of her life. Spending the greater part of her life was not the only reason she shed her tears... she knew how special deuta was...she was pining for the self made man who was filled to the brim with values...she was pining for the man who had such a high sense of dignity of labour...who did not believe that women were born to serve men, and never restrained from getting hands on with anything, proving to be ma's equal partner, in every respect. Yes, ma was pining for the man, with whom she spent the greater part of her life, and in perfect bliss...yes, in sickness amd in health.
As for us, his three children, deuta was a friend and guide...We refrained from vices, probably because we were afraid to face him.... no, he was not going to punish us, but because we felt ashamed at letting him down... we were more scared of upsetting his calm demeanour. We loved having him around...a quiet presence, but nevertheless, leaving his mark on everything he did. He always took interest in all our little achievements. The great thing about Deuta was that he had an enthusiasm for, and interest in, all the small pleasures of family life...a well cooked meal by Ma, a good school report about us, our extra curricular achievements, birthdays , anniversaries, our studies, a football match (an avid footballer himself in his heydays), taking us to the circus or the zoo, on long walks, and even sharing a laugh over a screen comedy...you name it ...he did it all. He was there by our side, even in our failures, never discouraging us, but urging us to learn from our mistakes and move on.
Deuta was not a boisterous personality, and made his presence felt in an understated way. What he didn't possess in physical stature, he more than made up with his very imposing personality, which commanded the respect of his friends, family and colleagues alike.
And his garden, what can I say about that...he was so, so, passionate about it...flowers, vegggies, you name it...his veggies patch probably boasted the most luscious tomatoes I've ever eaten till date. I remember the day when it rained heavily and he rushed out with his umbrella because a little plant was being bent by the rain and wind and needed to be supported. He would really lose himself in his garden, which, in his hands, came to life. In fact, on the very morning of the day when he lapsed into a sudden coma, he had been painting the flower pots.
The pain of losing a parent hits hard on every child...but when we lost deuta, I was more than crestfallen. He was in every sense, my friend, philosopher and guide. Being the youngest, and with a big gap in ages with my siblings, it was deuta, who kept me company, during my younger years, most of the time... dragging me out, many a time, when I was in danger of losing myself too much in books... playing with me(usually a game of badminton); taking me for walks; asking me with a twinkle, if I needed anything, while going shopping, very much aware of the bar of chocolate I was eyeing; involving me in his garden (which he was really passionate about); all in all, ensuring that I did not feel left out at any moment.
Sometimes, well, most of the time, I wish he was here. He would have made such a wonderful kokadeuta (grandfather). There was so much to learn from him. But, then, I think of one of my cousins who had lost his father when he was too young to even remember him properly. Then, it makes me feel blessed to have received so many years of paternal love and that too from such a genuine man. I cherish all the fond memories that I have of him and tuck them away in a special corner of my heart.
Oh! Deuta, how I miss you. 'Time heals all', they say...I'm not so sure. Life, however, does go on...we laugh, we eat, we celebrate...but, that emptiness will always be there.
Tomorrow it is going to be fourteen years since we lost deuta... he passed away as quietly as he had lived. I don't know if there is a life after this; but, if there is, I wish you happiness. Thank you deuta, for the years of love that you have showered upon us, and hope you will continue to look upon us, as fondly.
For you, deuta, a sunflower from our garden...you have been a sun for us in more ways than one.