lyf2021

[lyf2021]

Chapter 1: What the fuck balls

I have often wondered what a “normal” life and a “good” childhood looks like. Everytime, I’ve made the effort to scratch under the surface, I always seem to end up shaking my head and marveling how every family has its drama and shittiness.  Men especially lack for an outlet in many areas where traditional masculinity is prized. It sucks. 

My first memory of my mother is something like this :

*loud crack*

My mental camera zooms out and it’s me as a small brown child. Blood starts seeping from the crown of this 4 year olds head. It is cold, and sticky, and wet, and I can tell that something fundamental was just violated. 

To this day I can’t explain it- the actual wound in my head didn’t hurt. But even at four, I knew I had lost part of my psyche (one that would take a very long time and a lot of love to heal). And that was an incessant pain that would hum along a low to medium level from that moment on. (I was a very dramatic four year old). Then again, have you MET four year olds? They are hella dramatic. On an unrelated note, I wanted to be an actor when I grew up. Seemed the best way to monetize my pain.

The point of that story is not for me to flog my pain for attention. It’s to give context to just how unhinged my mother was when she was in one of her moods. Now imagine having an arranged marriage to that woman.

A total stranger you haven’t met, that you are marrying out of duty to your parents. She seems normal at first but is actually batshit insane. Plus you are like 29 and your middle name is ego. This was the world I would come to understand my dad lived in. 

If that makes you shudder, then yep, you are getting a sense of the nightmare my early years were. If you shrug or laugh because thats nothing, I get that too.

My father was born to a stern angry father and a doting mother in Lucknow India. One of 4 kids he was the second oldest, and in some ways the boldest. He was a college legend in speech and debate (and was relentless in ensuring I did the same), a straight a student, generally fearless, and had a temper to match.  But he was also a typical indian man of his time. Most immigrant or indian kids probably know what I am talking about. Worse of all he was successful at everything he tried. 

AAAND then I came along. And things suddenly changed. 

[lyf2021]

Intro

As many of you know, I recently lost my father. In the wake of his passing, one thing that has stood out to me is how incredible the story of our relationship is. When I talk about my dad and our story, most people shake their heads at the narrative and tell me how they wish x,y,z family member could understand that. My dad changed. By the time he died, he was one of the most peaceful loving people I've ever met. Imagine a man who within 5 minutes of walking into a room made people love and respect him. He didn't start out that way though, and some of you know my family history. It's been rough. However, the lessons we learnt along the way are turning out to be the true gems within his passing.He always urged me to write, and as a tribute to him I want to do a mini memoir. This is that story.