How do I describe the relationship between my father and me? Father’s Day came and went and I felt the familiar vacuum that no one or nothing could fill for 10 years.
My memory of him goes back to when I was a little girl, when his lap was the safest and the most comfortable place in the world for me. Given any small chance I would g

o and make myself comfortable there. He too enjoyed my little arms around his neck and I learnt later how much it had meant to him too. At that time we all took each other for granted and felt these moments would go on forever…
My father meant the world to me. He was a busy businessman who worked 12 hours a day. We were four children and he seemed to still have the time to check on the small details of our everyday life. He insisted we play a sport every evening after homework, and he checked our grades from term to term. If he spotted our grades dipping, we discussed what could have gone wrong.
Every morning on the way to school he would join us in the car and get off on the way to play a game of tennis, but before that he would recite the Japji Sahib (the Sikh prayer) with us, being careful to explain the meaning of the words whilst he did it. Later in life, whenever I have needed to reach within myself for inner strength, I remember the meaning of the verses as I recite the prayer.
In the middle of the night I would find my way into my parents’ bed to seek warmth and comfort. I probably did that till I was 13! One night their room was locked and in my disappointment I went to sleep on the mat outside the locked door.
Later, my dad always got teary-eyed when he would recall and relate this story and said that when he saw me asleep outside on opening the door, early in the morning, his heart broke. He never locked the door after that.
When we were growing up, hardly any Delhi house had generators. We had a big lawn outside and I remember we kids (all one year apart) would lie on a camp bed, out in the open when there was a power cut in the summers. Intermittently, as I would turn and my eyes briefly opened, I would see my Dad fanning us with a hand fan. He probably had meetings all throughout the next day!
He was a dynamic man who stood to be the president of the Confederation of Indian Industries (CII) and Indo-American Chamber of Commerce and was a first generation businessman, but his value system was basic and rich with love and dedication.
He told me later when I had babies and I was trying to get my child off the godi habit, “How many more years will you hold your baby and give her comfort?” or, “How long will you get into bed and put them to sleep? You never spoil a child by giving them too much love!” He was so right! I learnt that later to get love, you have to give love. It’s directly proportional.
As we grew up he became an umbrella for everyone, even his entire extended family. I got fearful of eventually losing him and that became my biggest fear.
My most painful moment was when he passed away in a hospital in Boston after a massive heart attack. I watched his pulse rate decrease, unable to get my arms off him. How could I let him go?
As a teenager when I had more time for my friends and much less time for him, he used to complain. “Queenie, you will miss me the most and all you will have are memories. Make enough of them.” I would dismiss him then, as I was too busy growing up. He did write me long letters during his travels knowing I would treasure them all one day.
I let him go as we sat on the banks of the Beas River in Punjab as I saw his ashes drift away, and I let go my fears. I became strong and fearless because of him and his love that surrounds me even today. “Fear only God, no one and nothing else,” his voice resounds in my ears. On Father’s Day I dwell and bow down to all those precious memories that shape my existence today and which I could write sheaths of paper on.