When he asked me what’s it for, I did not know what to say. It’s my father I haven’t seen for over a decade. It’s him. That’s what it is.
No trace and in no sight. A blank spot, or a hole with no end. Through and through. I am half Indian. I can’t believe it sometimes. When it reads India in big and bold on that 10 rupee paper. An address to maybe my ancestral home where I have aunts, uncles, cousins who are married since ages and children my age. A woman who I share my nose with, or a family I share the tendency of growing gall stones. The 14th sequence of the 19th gene cell.
I suppose life boils down to the cells in our bodies. What fate, and what a long way from home I am. I don’t know what it is to be Indian, to be from a country where Mc Aloo Tikki is actually a celebrated burger. I never got a chance to see that world. I don’t know if I actually did miss out on something or not. What would I know anything about something I’ve never seen.
At times, I feel like packing y bags and leaving. Go to that address an knock. Maybe someone who shares my blood will open the door, or maybe I will hit dead end, and walk back to my cheap Indian motel on the same soil my father walked on with his head down from the weight of the world.
What do I know about him. It is true I don’t talk much about him. He has disappeared from my life, but I still remember glimpses of him. Memories of his tall self walking through our little apartment. His demeanor, and his reckless ways. He never disappeared from my heart. He never will.
My mother never taught me to hate him. She never had anything bad to say about him, at least not too much. She always says how I got some of my good qualities from him. I think she likes to shine a good light on him so his negative traits wouldn’t reflect on to my personal self-worth. Who knows how the bastard was and how how treated her. She will probably never tell me anything.
I have grown up and I seek answers now. Some difficult and hard to put down in words. I am a little scared though. I might want to know more of that side of my existence, but maybe it is a place I don’t want to be venturing in to for too long. I don’t look forward to disappointment. But I won’t know till I ask the questions, will I?