Finding Dharmendra

"Bhai humein toh ladki ek dum saakshat lakshmi ka roop chahiye...ek dum Hema Malini jaisi" said Mrs. Sharma. I looked at my Dad and gave him an amused smile. I actually wanted to die laughing but just out of respect for this so filmy bridegrooms family I somehow managed. From childhood, we are taught to learn how to behave, how to talk, how to sit...I wonder where was Mrs.Sharma during her phase. You take one look at this woman and she'll rattle your ancestors. For the first time in my life, I had seen someone with a nose ring so big that it appeared as if a finger-ring. She was reeking of hunger for dowry, hypocrisy, and hell lot of laziness. (Kasam se agar baith jaaye na toh do char ki jaan aise he le jaayegi). 

Dad was pretty calm and composed. I happened to sense the feeling as if he had decided what to do. He took out a  cigarette from his pack of smokes and lit it very casually. I don't know why but I imagined him smoking in slow-motion as if he was going to burn the house down by just flicking the cigarette butt in the end...there will be a big explosion and we will walk out in style. (At times I somehow tend to imagine some really weird stuff.) Mrs. Shaarma's devilish laugh slowly started to die. I bet they were dying of curiosity to know what my father had to say. Then out of nowhere, the mother of all one-liners happened. "Toh aap dono ko bhi Dharmendra paida karna chahiye tha" said Dad. Booom!!!! Mr. and Mrs. Sharma turned into Mr. and Mrs. Hiroshima & Nagasaki. I looked at my Dad with a smile that was about to become a rolling laugh. I guess father had somehow sensed my earlier wish to die laughing and decided to fulfill it. I walked out of the house laughing as if I was drunk and just couldn't walk straight. You get the best stomach ache when someone makes you laugh way too hard. "From where the heck did that come from?" asked me. The engine roared...car reversed and Father just smiled and winked at me and said "Let's go". Well, I guess with that he said everything that he had to. 

It was a bright sunny morning. Father was driving the Toyota as if it was some vintage car. I never really understood the reason for it. I guess men above 50 love to have such kind of feeling. But I liked the cool breeze splashing my face. I put my glares on and was adjusting the side mirror to see how I looked with my hair flowing in style. I looked like a jerk no doubt about it but still, I loved myself. What is this fixation that we have with mirrors? Be it an auto-rickshaw, taxi, or bus we all happen to look into their mirrors and admire ourselves with a hope that we are all looking pretty hip-n-happening. It's really amazing to see how automatically people just happen to slow down while walking past a car, glass door, or anything that appears to us like a mirror to catch a glimpse of our reflection. I really don't understand what do we expect our reflections to be in that fraction of a second. They just can't make us some Greek God or Goddess but still, we love to do that and I bet everyone on this earth has done this in some or the other way.

"I will really be disappointed if you turn out to be just one of those guys," said Father. I feel very awkward when I'm in a good mood and someone just says some deep shit that's very serious and meaningful. I don't understand why people have to do that. Especially a Father-Son conversation is one hell of a task. It is one of those Man-to-Man things where every father makes his son feel like an unmarried dad and expects him to be responsible and some kind of superman. Anyways I got ready for my 'World-Warish-Be-A-Man' kind of stuff that was about to be fired at me. " Always be a self-made man son. Never be so materialistic that you become blind to people's feelings. Getting a daughter married is every father's long-cherished dream. Be a man enough to at least fulfill some 'Old Mans' dream who can then close his eyes with a smile and in peace". I contemplated each and every word that my father said to me. He made me realize the joy of pain of getting a daughter married and giving her hands to someone who can take care of her. Giving away a piece of your heart is never easy. This society has killed more dreams than anything else in this world. Nothing is more painful than a dying dream. Father hit the brakes and it felt as if he pulled me back from falling into a cliff. 

We both smiled...got out of the car and walked to the tea stall. We did not say anything to each other at that moment but it still meant a lot to both of us. It was like a heart-to-heart conversation without saying much. He was sipping his tea with lots of unspoken expressions on his face. I looked the other way with a pale smile on my face. I felt an arm around my shoulder and I looked into my father's eyes who just smiled and said "Now you drive...I guess you are ready for that". Today it's been 6 years since he has quit smoking and fortunately me too. Sister is happily married to a 'Dharmendra' that my father eventually somehow found for her. Off I go now with a quote I don't know where did I read it...but it goes like this "Every Son becomes Father one day and Every Father a Son...."