Falling into frequent arguments with Amma and Thaththa is the last thing I would like to do when I’m at home. Getting into a verbal fight with Amma over trivial matters, like Nangi does, is not really my ‘pol-pani’ pancake.
But, when the chance arrives, arguing with Thaththa is like being a courtroom or a public forum. Our topics range from politicos and their mock miracles to smart works of his so-called bright students. Unlike in the fights with Amma, I could leave the dinner table with the same spirit after such a hot-talk. This, perhaps, is one thing which lured me to join the press at a very early age, when my friends hardly knew what they were doing with their lives.
Thaththa is not what you call a petting-type, but he is always there for Nangi and me whenever Amma tries to release her work pressure on the two of us. He gives us a lot of freedom to walk around and see the world, trusting that we would not let him down. When I was showing signs of being a left-hander like him, it was Thaththa who taught me to hold the pencil correctly. He would buy me ten or twelve erasers with lovely bright colours and tempting aromas whenever I scored well in a monthly test. He happily gave the nagging job to Amma but was all eyes and ears about how I was proceeding.
Being a teacher, he was very particular about my math-score in term tests; the only thing I can remember him being hyper-sensitive about. During my math lessons with him, he would box my ears a couple of times in seeing me not getting the simple sums right.
Being a student of his is not as lovingly as being his eldest child, for he burdened me with tedious loads of homework with cutting deadlines.
With my 9-A’s when Amma and all the others were pushing me into A/L lab section, it was Thaththa who stood by me and said, “Let Loku decides for herself.”
Thaththa trusts in my judgement in many things, from picking up the right-tie for him to choosing electrical appliances for home. This makes me a proud daughter.
Amma is the biggest fan of the things I write, for she openly talks about them and shows my scrapbook to everyone who visits us, which can be embarrassing at times. Thaththa, on the other hand, only gives me suggestions to write but never goes to the extent of appreciating or commenting on the things which go on the paper with my byline.
So, I was taken by surprise when I went to school to pick up Malli, a handful of teachers of Thaththa’s staff, rounded me and said, “We enjoy reading your poetry and articles, Thaththa never forgets to bring the paper to the staffroom.” I could only say, “That’s him” in reply.
Daughters loving their fathers more than they love their mothers has been there ever since the phenomenon of parenthood came into existence. Whatever the reasons the high-profiled psychologists give, daughters tend to love their fathers because they are more liberal-minded and mild-hearted when it comes to daughters. This is the main reason why in most cases, a girl wishes to get married to a boy who has the same qualities of her father, and I am no exception.
I know for a fact that Amma’s favouritism is all directed at Malli, the devil and the angel, who can do no wrong in her eyes. And, Thaththa, of course, prefers Nangi to me, as she took to following his foot-steps by choosing Maths stream for her A/Ls. But, that doesn’t lessen the weight of the reality that I can love them both and take anyone’s side when I feel like it. In return, they can do the same with me.
After reading this, I won’t be surprised to hear Amma saying in one of her complaining tones, “This is not the first time, Thaththa, dûla teamed up against me,” when Thaththa is enjoying the praises of his staffers with the paper in his hand!
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