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Many of us begin objectively thinking about fathers only as ageing daughters and after they are long gone. What propels it? What is the first question that springs to mind ?

Why did we take fathers as respected patriarchs of families, not as human beings we could argue, laugh and quarrel with? Why could we not have the same easy friendship with fathers as we did with mothers? Why did we take maternal love as a given, but the father remained the measure of all things heroic and vast, even after we married and left our natal families?

Montaigne argues flatly that there can be no friendship between children and fathers, period. The reason is lack of easy communication. Friendship, he argues, feeds on communication, which is mostly non-existent between fathers and children due to “their too great inequality,” of power to be the source of only stern admonitions and corrections periodically. The enormous clout handed them by society guarantees those expectant silences between father and child. 

So traditional fatherhood, as our generation of midnight’s children came to know of it, blocked two-way communication between grown up children and fathers. With sons there may be moments of semi-equal bantering but not with pubescent daughters.

Did we resent this? To be honest, as daughters we were brought up to believe that our mothers’ love based on easy camaraderie was enough for us. If needed she could be our bridge to father and carry back his views to us, in our case stamped with her own brackish  sense of humour. “Bharat Bhagya Vidhata”, our mother called Babu, our father. She had accepted the fact, but just about. We were expected to  be mature enough to continue to accept him as a heroic figure, and the provider of safety, security, and sobering advice. When we were married to men from reputed, well spoken-off clans, I........

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