Good men, women still believe, are always protective of them. There's an old world, eternal charm to it. A new lover of his girl, a husband of his wife, a brother of his sister, and dads of their little daughters - who perhaps are 'little' forever. To be taken care of is such a beautiful feeling. That's no secret. Our historical preview clearly depicts the men as hunters and providers, while women nurtured life at home. That home reflected her presence in every corner, in its very scent.
Today's times are changing. Women compete alongside men in every single aspect. They multi-task outside home while men convincingly do their domestic bit. Modern men seem to have a consistently growing admiration of us - the modern day women. The outgoing, smart, self-made, and ready-to-take-on-anything woman. I might be an exception to say that while I am proud I am one of so called gen-next woman, am I steadily and reluctantly receding from old beautiful joys of being a woman. Is it normal and acceptable to be wanting an opportunity to be all woman - subtle, sensual, spirited. Or is it a psychological anomaly?? To reckon with the old school of relationships that's mocked away in bemusement. Is it not anymore charming to to give in and go with the flow to absorb togetherness. Or are we fighting so hard to prove everyone otherwise that we wont even stop to analyze if we're liking it at all?. It seems for-granted 'coz its for-granted we don't need this one. Is chivalry no more the 'man' thing? Has having a partner who worries about you when he/she away become 'space-invasion'? A 100% 'WE' is made of 50% 'you' and 50% 'me'. No more, and better not less? Its all about good calculations. I can't really say how comfortable am I with this 'don't mess with me' or 'be damned' kind of trend. Maybe, we do it coz any other way could be fatal. You know, trust today is like seeking virginity in a brothel. Decoding mangled modernity.
There is a man who, for me, personifies love and tender care. My dad. I did not have the privilege of a brother's affection or a lover's protection. It was only dad. When I was young, he would help me with homework, take me school, fetch me to playgrounds, and panic endlessly when I was late. Wherever I was, he would make sure, I was safe and back home before dark. If my mum ever got late to get me back from a friend's place, she was prepared to be at receiving end. When I ever hurt myself, my dad would rush me to the doctor like world would end. There weren't any boys in my home. Yet I had sports equipment that included cricket bat, hockey, football, tennis and badminton rackets. (I just liked badminton, though). I had one favorite doll that was a beautiful thing and very treasured. He never bought me a kitchen-set ever. And when my mum insisted on getting one to shape my domestic skills, my dad refused. He said I would cook well anyways, when I get married. He never really enjoyed see me doing tasks. There were times when he was strict on studies but he, and mum, made sure I always get to do what I love. Whatever it be - music, painting, writing, debates, poetry, clay-art. I tried most of it, and rather well. I chose a dynamic 'Street-Cat' bicycle instead of the girly 'Ladybird'. Everything about my likes and dislikes displayed my confident, free-spirit side. I had my full share of freedom but taught why and how not to abuse it. Yet, I never parted with my soft, vulnerable self.
If I carefully ponder over that life gone by, I can precisely understand why I am what I am. A very strong personality. You wont miss that. I've been nurtured that way - to be strong and carry out life with self-sufficiency. And I certainly do - banking, grocery, shopping, maintenance, budgeting, investments, planning, car repairs, and everything you need to keep life going these days, sans support. Spend time with me and you break-through that often misinterpreted image. I am strikingly opposite. The only man well-versed with this fact is dad. Now, my tough dad has aged....Still protective, his presence is like a subtle realization that there's none other than him to make me feel protected and cared for. Times, throughout and often, I desire someone else to make me feel as special. And my old, yet strong, father can recline and relax. When he wont have to call me 7p.m. sharp to find out how many more minutes to make it home. When he wont have to loose his sleep over who would look after his darling daughters when he ages further. When he, who never ever expressed his moments of pain and anguish openly, wont have his gentle eyes swell up red with tears, about to roll down his now wrinkled face. And maybe, when I wont have be strong and scuttle everywhere to run my life. When I'm allowed to be weak. I am allowed to be vulnerable without fear of being exploited . When I could let my guards down permanently. When my confident, intimidating outer-self can safely give way to reveal the real me - a lovable, simple and carefree 'me'. A 'me' who cries and sobs when hurt, a 'me' who is scared to sleep alone after watching horror movies, a 'me' who wants to sit on seat next to the driver's , a 'me' who wants to be consoled and pacified, a 'me' who wants to be taken in cover of arms like it'll all be fine. Just so.
Dad, a man who has taken care of not one but four women. His wife and three daughters. And does it with elan. Now, three fine men for three of us. Perhaps. The men who would respect you and mum for what you would gift them as their wives, companions, friends - your daughters. Everything else would be trifle. Those who would cherish us - the wonderfully brought up girls. Your girls.
So dad, when your old hands tremble to prevent me fall and hurt myself, do not worry. Be sure life would offer me a solid grip of someone who takes over from there. A complete man. Sincere, protective, lovable. Just as you have been.
"....and today strong winds won't douse that flickering flame,
not coz it knows to fight 'em, but coz your hands give it a cover..."
