Dear Papa,

Papa,

I thought of writing ‘dearest dad’ instead, because that’s how everyone else writes too. But that sounded so not-us.

When you first dropped me in the hostel, I could not cry like the other kids around. I had made it a habit of watching you walk away, way before leaving home. I know that you’ve got tired of my stubborn self as every time I tend to make the things about just me, and not us. I’ve seen you backing off more than a child should. It still breaks me like it has always been, but it feels normal too.

Papa, I want you to know that I love you, even though it doesn’t look like this most of the times. I know I’ve always been difficult to deal with, but after I started having my own opinions, so were you. How I wish for an us-against-the-problems world, and not a me-against-you home. How I want to call you and talk, and not just ask Mumma about your well-being. I saw that my chat is pinned to the top in your phone, which has the last text some two months ago, of your bank details. But Papa, I could always do with one lesser Parker pen, and one more hour of fun with you. I could always do without your ‘big gift’ and have your ‘big hug’ instead. That I always wanted to see you around, and not the chocolates you gave to compensate.

I know that you’ve struggled a lot in your life, to give me ‘the best’. That you want me to be the best. That you care about me the most, and never show. How you’ve always been the warmth of a lighthouse, dragging me to safety every time I’ve capsized. Whenever I thought it was the end of the world, you were always there, giving me hope. I know there are a lot of things I still don’t understand, but I know well that you love me. If only we could express it better.

Till then, let’s not give up on each other just yet?

Your best headache.