My Father’s Joyful Indulgences Hid A Heart Of Pure Kindness
My father left us years ago. He was a great dad, no doubt, but I carried a quiet resentment about his seeming disregard for his own health. He lived life on his own terms – junk food was a daily staple, cigarettes his constant companion, and alcohol, a frequent, sometimes excessive, indulgence. It wasn’t disruptive every day, but family weddings were a different story.
That's where my ‘majestic walrus’ of a dad would emerge. By midnight, he’d be the life of the party, pulling reluctant aunties onto the dance floor, his booming laughter echoing through the hall. Everyone adored his spirit; everyone, it seemed, except me. I’d inwardly cringe, dreading the inevitable – having to wrestle his swaying form into an auto-rickshaw, enduring my mother’s silent frustration. It felt like a selfish spectacle, an embarrassment I wished away.
Now, years after his passing, a different truth has surfaced. His 'selfishness' was, in fact, a profound, unspoken kindness. He wasn't just drinking to escape; he was consciously taking on the role of the boisterous entertainer. He was the one who broke the ice, made shy relatives laugh, ensuring everyone, from the quietest guest to the most reserved elder, felt comfortable enough to genuinely let loose and enjoy themselves. His tipsy antics weren't about *him*; they were about creating an atmosphere of uninhibited joy for everyone else. He sacrificed his own perceived dignity to ensure our family functions were legendary for their warmth and laughter. It wasn't an indulgence; it was his unique way of spreading happiness. I only wish I had understood my kind, dancing walrus then.
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