fortywinks

   Perfect fathers are worshipped, their replicas cemented on pedestals. Mine was cunning, conniving, and more or less atrocious. Responsible dads are forever visible on every occasion; mine never even walked with me down the aisle.
  Jurassic days with my dad were a blurr. During my formative years, Chandy ( i called him that) was fondly remembered as my driver to school, my math tutor (he was a whiz), my chess mentor ( he ate pawns and kings), my singing coach ( he loved "Usahay"), and my Shrink. When he left our dysfunctional family, we remained so. I only spent a quarter of my lifetime with him and the rest of the years were spent picking up the pieces. Every birthday, my only wish was his "welcome-back party". I stopped hoping. Like a thief, he would unexpectedly reappear and barge in my comfort zone and gave introductions to my half-siblings. Oh! he was generous with his genes, too. He managed to sneak me in his car and drove me to the hilltops at dusk. We would have our chitchats with bottles of San Migs. Since we never celebrated Christmases together, he proudly gave me the blanket of stars like lights on the trees.
  One glorious day, he bravely appeared at our doorstep, wearing his fave shoes (Mom’s once-upon-a-time gift). On bended knees, he asked forgiveness. It was surreal. This was a box office hit. Sincerity questioned, it may have fallen into deaf ears. You will be stunned, yet humbled. But, it was closure, nevertheless. Finally, the Godfather has set us free from the chronic pain. "I will not see you for a long time.",he said to me. For a moment, I did not panic. Maybe, i will see him in a decade or two. Perhaps, never. For the first time, somehow I felt whole again,for in my heart… this was his homecoming. Happy Father’s Day, Chandy.