a daughter's story...

DADDY’S GIRL

Smrithi Rumdali Rai

4:23 PM

The white sheets are twisted, like some albino snakes, the pillows are tucked around me just the way I like. I am safe and snug in my little white haven. I miss my daddy. Lying there curled up, my eyes refuse to open. I am safe ……for now.

“I lay my burden to rest
I look for him in you.”

The refrain keeps playing in my head. Is it a song? Or is it a poem? Where have I heard it? Maybe they are lines from my own poems. I used to write good poetry.

My body is tired. I feel pain. Maybe if I sleep, it will go away. And why have they bandaged my wrists?

There is that song again. The words sound a little different now.

“I lay my burden to rest
I look for him in you…….”

“But I’m not your Daddy
And I sure as hell love you.”

Ha! That’s no poem. That was a conversation. Yeah! But with who? I think it was with the man I was married to. No! With the man I am married to.

The man I am married to? Now, why did I say that? Normal people would say, “The man I married,” but then I am abnormally normal, whatever that is.

I miss my daddy, and I wish he were here. What would he say to see me curled up like this? Maybe he would feel sad, but I know he would never see me like this. I am always fine when he is around.

“Knock, knock? Who’s there? What does Liv Tyler have that you don’t? A cool dad. Yeah! And she is very pretty. Maybe when people have something you want so bad, it makes them look pretty.

What an absurd idea………? Why am I thinking of her now? I must stop watching that stupid cartoon ‘My Dad Is A Rock Star’ on Nickelodeon…… But it’s kind of cute to see a cool rock star who is such a GREAT dad……. Hey, snap out of it. He is a cartoon character with green hair, remember?

Daddy would be disappointed…… No, daddy would understand, he would……

“Are you awake? How do you feel?” My eyes reluctantly open. My sister is there, smiling down at me. I know she has been crying. Her eyes have that look. Why was she crying, I wonder?

“Here, speak to Mom. She has been worried sick,” she holds the cell phone to my ear. There is some static but I can hear Mom’s voice…… I can’t really concentrate…

I catch “… worried about you …… congratulations …...why did you do such a foolish thing …… praying for …… good health.”

I see ... It’s my birthday then!

I am drowsy.

“Thank you, Mom. I’m six today. I am a big girl now. Don’t worry.”
My sister is talking now …… “She is not up to it yet …... Don’t worry. I’m here…… I will call you later.”

I must tell her to watch cartoons. “You wouldn’t have red eyes if you watched cartoons you know,” I tell her, “Why have you been crying?” She doesn’t answer me, but turns to the window. “I can tell you are crying,” I tell her. She doesn’t reply. Her shoulders are shaking. Oh well, she was always a cry-baby. Daddy never liked that.

Mom always said Daddy was a bad father.

I disagree. He was the most wonderful dad a girl could wish for. Why, he took me swimming and played ball with me. He even built my dog’s kennel and painted it a shiny red. Mom never let me have a dog. She ignored Ewok when he came. Daddy agreed that Ewok was the handsomest dog in town.

Daddy also agreed that Sayyed was the handsomest boy in the whole world.

Mom didn’t agree, but then she never shared the same views as Daddy. She would like me to be a lady. I got away because Dad wanted me to be his son. Mom told me how happy he had been when he knew I was on the way.

“I’ll teach him to play ball … I’ll teach him to box … I’ll teach him to climb …” And he had gone on and on and on … While my sister learnt to knit and sew, I played ball with Daddy, went rock-climbing, swimming … … And oh yes! Daddy was there all the time. The funny thing was that Mom and my sister never liked him.

I open my eyes and my sister is still there. I must ask her. She never speaks about daddy. I don’t like this place … It’s all too white … the walls are white. White like the flower I was named after. Ketaki, the flower rejected by the gods. Mom would find such a stupid name for me. I would rather have been called a Sunflower … not a Rose, or even a Cabbage for that matter. That would be nice and odd, and oddly nice! I wonder why people don’t name their children after vegetables. Think of it, a playground full of Okras and Lettuces … Brinjals and Beans … … Cabbages and Kings…

My sister’s husband calls her by food names. Honeybun, Sugar, Cupcake …… I wonder what Daddy would have thought. He would probably laugh his hearty laugh and say all Americans were mad … but mad in a nice way. I know he likes Americans. Mom still has an old album with a picture of Daddy and the American Photographer … ... Sometimes, Daniel reminds me of him. Maybe that is why my sister married him. Maybe she did look at the picture when I wasn’t looking.

I want to go home. I don’t want to stay here in this stark sterile room. I don’t belong here. I hate white…I HATE WHITE.

I love red. It’s a rich warm colour. I can almost smell it. It reminds me of my husband. Why isn’t he here? Why does everything hurt? I see him smiling at me, wearing the same red tee-shirt I had first seen him in. I thought he was the handsomest boy in the world and Daddy agreed. Sayyed was the handsomest boy in the world. I still think he is. He is just like Daddy. I chased him, made a fool of myself over him till I got him ……… Daddy was amused.

It was our secret till I invited him over for dinner. Mom wasn’t too pleased. In fact she wasn’t nice at all and refused to speak to him. She said she hated the tattoo. I thought it was real cool to have a tattooed neck. Daddy had a tattoo too. Mom just ignored the part about Daddy’s tattoo, like she always ignored everything else I had to say about Daddy.

Sayyed always listened. He is such a sweetheart. He always wrote long cheery letters and sent me love poems. I used to write good poetry then. He said it gave him hope even in war.

When we got married, Mom stopped speaking to me. I didn’t mind I think … But then, no one can not love Sayyed. She came around … And later even took his side when we had arguments … What were they about? I can barely remember. There’s that refrain again ……

“I’m not your Daddy
And I sure as hell love you.”

Did you? Do you? Is that why you stay away from me? Fighting wars you don’t believe in? Why must you go away every time? The army can recruit others to fight their silly wars. Where next after Afghanistan? Iraq? Iran? Africa? Mars? You always leave me all alone. Daddy never did that. He was always there. I hate being all alone. Daddy went away after I married you … he took Ewok with him. I miss them, you must take his place now …… No, you are not here …… Where are you? When are you coming to see me?

I thought you would make a great father like Daddy, but you are nothing like him. I don’t know why Mom always says you are so nice. She never had anything nice to say about Daddy, but she only says nice things about you …… “Thank God, he is nothing like your father.” That was the only time I heard her refer to Daddy after so many years … … But what did she mean? Daddy loved me. So does Sayyed. Or perhaps, he doesn’t … maybe that is why Mom gets along with him now. I miss Daddy.

“Listen to me …” My sister is still here in the white room. “You’ve got to snap out of it. Sayyed will be here soon.”

She is very pretty I think, except when she frowns. When she frowns she looks exactly like Mom. Why is she shaking me?
“Come on, snap out of it. I said Sayyed will be home soon.”

Yeah right, in a body bag … She doesn’t hear me. She is too busy lecturing me …… I am not going to listen … “Told him you would be okay …… Pull through this together …… He is not a bad man …… He loves you …… No need to be depressed …… That’s what family is for …… blah blah blah …… ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING? ...... Talk to me …”

There she goes again … … tears. Why does she have to cry so often? I feel sorry for her.

I want Daddy? Where is Daddy?

“Listen to me. ARE YOU LISTENING? I’M SICK OF YOU. Stop being so selfish here, will you! We are all worried here and you are still playing your stupid game. You’ve always had it easy. PLAYING YOUR STUPID GAME. Daddy’s GONE! Do you hear, he’s been gone all these years! Stop pretending you don’t know. You’ve always known it …… You spoilt little princess! You know what he was … He was not a hero … You make me sick … It has always been you, hasn’t it? Playing your stupid game under the table while Mom and I worked our fingers to the bone … Sewing, knitting to make ends meet, while you … You played … Sometimes pretending it was a ball game, other times it was rock climbing … always with your precious Daddy and your imaginary dog. And this was the same dad who walked out on us just before you were born …”’

“Mommy’s little girl never had to understand any of the problems we went through. Mom always spoilt you. Trying to make up for the Dad you never had, putting you first always. Then along came Sayyed. I am surprised how he takes all of this. He loves you madly. We can all see that, but that’s not good enough for our little princess. Is it? Always whining and complaining. He is in a war … Do you understand? And what do you do? What did you think you were doing, you fool? If I hadn’t stopped by last noon … …. You spoilt little ……”
… … there you go, she’s crying again. I don’t believe what she said about Daddy walking out on us. I have always known he rode away on his motorcycle with Ewok. I can still see him in his ripped jeans and leather jacket … … Riding with the wind and Ewok’s silky ears flying, as they head off into the sunset.

My sister is still crying. Poor girl, she must watch cartoons. She’ll be a lot happier than she is now.

The door opens … and a nurse in the same boring white walks in. She is holding a little white bundle in her arms. Wait a minute … … Why is she holding it out to me?

Mrs. … Would you like to hold your daughter?

MY DAUGHTER? NO THAT CAN’T BE. Sayyed, where are you? WHERE ARE YOU? YOU PROMISE TO BE HERE FOR US.

IS SHE NOT GOING TO SEE HER DADDY TOO?

THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING … THIS IS A DREAM … NO ... NO …

I can hear myself screaming and screaming … And the last thing I remember is the prick of a needle in my arm.

***

5 years later:

I set the stack of plates on the table. Mom, my sister and Daniel and their two boys are coming over for lunch.

I have to call those two in. I walk across the window and see the picture I have always longed to see.

Sayyed and Farheen are laughing.

My little daughter is laughing with her head thrown back and her soft black hair flying as she swings on the tyre.

Ewok, Farheen’s brown and white Tibetan terrier is barking madly, as she shrieks delightedly each time her daddy gives her tyre a little push.

The garden hose is still turned on, the car is half washed. The little imp must have made her daddy forget all about it just as she made him forget that dinner with the …… last Saturday. She is a happy little child … she is … daddy’s girl.

2004