Baba - The story of the man from his daughter's eyes



If you ask me who my favourite person in the world is, my answer is simple — my Baba.

The same Baba I fight with over the silliest things, the one who calls me “Budhia,” and the one I can tell just about anything to. Our relationship is a little crazy, full of arguments, laughter, and countless little moments that mean the world to me.

But sometimes, I wonder how much I really know about the man behind the word Baba.

To me, he is my father, my strength, and my Universe. But before he became all of that, he was Manoj — a young man with dreams of his own and a story that began long before I came into this world.

I have written about my mom and my sister, and now it is time to write about the man who has stood behind our family, carrying his own struggles while making sure we had everything we needed.

So, this is not just a story about my father. It is about the man I love, the person I fight with, and the voice that could apparently cure my childhood fever.

This is my Baba’s story, told by the little girl who will always be his “Budhia.” ❤️

The Day My Story Began

There is a memory of my birth that Mom often tells me, and it always makes me smile.

Apparently, when I was born, Baba wasn't there. It was December, and it was raining heavily. But the moment he learnt that his little girl had arrived, he left no stone unturned to come and see me. 😂

Oh, Baba, I wish I could have seen you that day!

I wonder what went through your mind as you made your way through that rain. Were you excited, nervous, or simply impatient to meet me?

I don't remember our first meeting, but I love that Mom has preserved this little piece of our story for me. Little did you know that the tiny girl you were so eager to meet would grow up to argue with you endlessly, annoy you like nobody else, and still consider you one of her safest places in the world.

The Magic of “Budhia”

Mom has another story about me that makes me laugh every time I hear it.

Whenever Baba went away to appear for his Cost Accounting exams, I would apparently develop a fever of around 100 degrees. And guess what? The moment he called and his familiar voice reached my ears, especially when he called me “Budhia,” my fever would magically disappear! 😂

Apparently, Baba had discovered a cure that no thermometer could explain — one phone call, one “Budhia,” and everything was alright again.

I don't know whether it was excitement or simply the happiness of hearing him, but I love imagining that little girl waiting for her Baba's call.

Baba, you may have been busy preparing for your exams back then, but unknowingly, you had already passed the most important test — winning your little girl's heart. ❤️

A Relationship Full of Fights and Love

My relationship with Baba is not exactly conventional. It is unique, interesting, and, trust me, full of drama!

We fight. A LOTTTT! 😁 We argue over the smallest things, disagree on opinions, and sometimes turn simple conversations into full-fledged debates.

But the beautiful part is that I know I can tell him anything and everything.

He is the person I can argue with one moment and turn to for advice the next. No matter how much we disagree, there is a comfort in knowing that I can be completely myself around him.

And perhaps that is what makes our bond so special. We don't always have to agree to know that we love each other.

The Man Behind Baba

As I grow older, I find myself wondering about the man behind the title of Baba.

What were his dreams when he was young? What did he want from life before he started putting his family first? What were the struggles he faced silently, the battles he fought without telling us, and the sacrifices he made so that we could have the things we wanted?

My father has always been that quiet force standing behind everyone in our family. He has carried his own share of unspoken struggles while making sure we had what we needed.

Sometimes, we become so accustomed to our fathers being strong that we forget they are human, too. They have their own fears, disappointments, dreams, and stories that existed long before we came into their lives.

I want to know those stories. Not just the story of Baba as my father, but the story of Manoj as a person.

Because before he became our Baba, he was a man with dreams of his own.

To My Baba, With Love

Baba, between all our fights, arguments, and endless debates, I hope you know how much you mean to me.

I may not always say it, but I notice the things you do. I see the love behind your actions, even when you don't put it into words.

I wish I could go back to that rainy December day and see the look on your face when you first met me. I wish I could watch you rush to meet your little girl, knowing that one day she would grow up to write about you and tell the world that she belongs to you.

But since I cannot go back in time, I will collect the stories, preserve the memories, and write about the man who has shaped so much of my world.

Because the older I grow, the more I realise that while life teaches us to become independent, there will always be a part of us that finds comfort in the people who made us feel safe in the first place.

And for me, that will always be you.

The world may know you as Manoj. Our family may know you as our pillar. But I know you as the man whose voice could make my childhood feel better, the person I can fight with endlessly, and the father whose story I want to understand more with every passing year.

If I could choose a thousand times over, in a thousand different lifetimes, I would still choose to be your daughter.

Because no matter how old I grow, how much I achieve, or where life takes me, there will always be a little girl inside me who lights up when she hears her Baba call her “Budhia.”

To the world, you are Manoj. To me, you are my Universe.

And Baba, if there is one story I will always be proud to tell, it is the story of being your daughter. ❤️

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My first born 🥰🥰

Let me start with a confession. When my sister was born, I was not impressed. Not even remotely. I had been waiting for a baby brother. In my little head, I had already imagined all the fun of having a younger brother. And then came the big announcement: It was a girl. My response? “Please throw her in the dustbin.” Yes. That was my first reaction to the person who would eventually become one of the biggest loves of my life. 😂 Honestly, if someone had told that little girl that one day she would write an entire piece about this baby and call her “my first born,” she would have probably laughed. But life has a wonderful sense of humour. Because that tiny baby I didn't even want turned out to be exactly the person I didn't know I needed. She came into my life eight years after me, and for the longest time, our age gap felt enormous. I was the elder sister who thought she knew everything, and she was the little sister who seemed determined to challenge that belief at every possib...
Read more

Home of threads

Image
It is often said that a home is not made of bricks and cement, but of people—your people. After four years of marriage, I finally understand what that truly means. Because my mother—my Mama—is my home. Today, while cleaning my sister’s bed, I found one of her sarees tucked away in a corner. I picked it up casually, but the moment I held it, something shifted. There it was—a familiar scent, still wrapped in its threads. A warmth, a love, so real that it pulled me back almost 25 years in an instant. I never imagined something so small could hold such a deep place in my heart. Growing up, I never really understood who she was. To me, she was just always there. But today, I see her differently—not just as a woman draped in a saree, but as my pillar of strength, my quiet protector, the one who could take away all my worries and pain with just a few words, even through a simple video call. I also remember how she would tie little knots at the edge of her saree—small, almost unnot...
Read more