Today is Father’s Day. Like most dedicated holidays, there's a flurry of messages, philosophical musings (this falls in that category); posts on social media; articles in newspapers and magazines all across the world.
I confess that I am guilty of using this hallmark holiday to reminisce the past. It has also helped me get past the writing block that I have been experiencing for the last few months.
This Father's Day Morning, I sit at the breakfast table drinking my basil tea and reflecting on how lucky I have been to be exposed to the wonderful fathers in my family. At a time of great national dialog on women’s and person's rights; the #MeToo movement, I have been extraordinarily fortunate to be surrounded by fathers who were amazing feminists.
My mother sported short hair, wore pants, and traveled across the world alone in the 70s. At a time when women were forbidden to think, my mother was a trailblazer in her own right. My parents were great examples of breaking the mold.
Being born poor and unable to fulfill his dream of becoming a doctor, my father was hellbent
that his only daughter would become a doctor. In the late 1980s as I attended high school – I was set on the path of becoming a doctor. It was my father’s vision; one that I was firmly determined to thwart. I was a free spirit who had notions of traveling the world after joining Delhi University. My plans did not go according to plan. I qualified for the medical school entrance test. I recall testy and angry conversations with my father – as I told him that I was not going to leave university; I had a great group of friends - a routine of drinking chai and nimbu pani at the stalls on campus. I was having a blast.
Looking back: I probably was all set to becoming a bohemian and often wonder where I would have landed up. I had friends whose lives had been charted by their families, as well. The only difference was that their lives were planned to get a degree to ensure that they could attract suitable husbands.
My father’s plan was quite different. My dad was set on all his children becoming doctors and having accomplished careers. He sat me down after our umpteenth row about medical school acceptance. “You are a girl - if you don’t have a career and can’t support yourself, you will always be dependent on a man. Do you want that?” Granted that his warped view of that time was women could only do so by being a doctor. That caught my attention and I did end up going to medical school. And yes - my parents did
know best. I can acknowledge it now.
I met my husband in medical school. We married and moved to the States and had a rough time – completing our residency training with a one-year-old child. We moved to Phoenix and started our careers. Balancing full-time jobs, and a family was hard – especially during the early days. We balanced childhood illnesses, showing up to school plays, finishing housework and homework via a carefully sequenced dance of schedules, tears, fatigue, and laughter. When our daughter was in high school - we would walk most evenings with our dog and talk about our days. I would get this sense of déjà vu.
It was a thing of beauty – listening to my husband talk and my daughter often disagree. They would go back and forth. Our walks set the stage for our daughter to seek an unencumbered and unrestricted future for herself - whatever path she sought. My husband has always been our rock. He delights in bragging about his daughter and his wife- when his own accomplishments as a physician entrepreneur can probably fill entire books! He is a true feminist. He is a master of encouragement by planting seeds.
Nothing brings him more joy than the success of his wife, his daughter, his sister, or his niece.
But he did not learn this on his own- he had the example of his parents. My mother-in-law is a well-known educator who has worked all her life- within the constraints of society as it evolved. She has been supported in her career by my father-in-law. The circle continues with my brothers and my husband’s sister; her husband; my niece and nephew.
I realized that my upbringing was not the norm when I attended medical school. This was confirmed when I began residency and started working. As I ascended the professional ladder, it was obvious that most men that I had interacted with, had not had the fortune of growing up and learning from men like my dad, my husband, or the other wonderful men who were feminists in my family.
The universe works in mysterious ways. Like begets like. Today I raise my cup of chai, to all the extraordinary men. May all the little girls (and boys) have fathers, uncles, brothers, and friends who are allies.
