Nadia Islam (Translated by Tinni Rahman):
My mother, when angry, says, “You and your father are exactly same! I can not take you anymore!” And the ‘anymore’ comes with a number of e’s. I understand it’s true.
I look like my father that is close to a roundish sweet called chamcham or an irregular potato, both of us can’t eat rice without our wrists swimming inside stew, both of us love to connect circuit boards and screw electrical wires of the house with insulation tape, none of us can sit without touching the person beside us, both of us are known as impolite in our respective neighborhood and known as the shepherd of buffalos of the forest while not considering our own business, both of us laugh a lot and cry a lot.
Though the amount of my father’s crying is a lot more than me; it’s Robin Hood for me, while my father also cries by seeing Shabana’s ‘please don’t leave me’ and jumping into bed.
Someone said that there are a lot of evil men in this world, but not a single evil father. May be Humayun Ahmed said it. I feel like believing it when I see my father. I want to believe that all the fathers of the world are Superman, all the fathers run behind their children’s bicycle, all fathers read fat leftist political books to their children at bed time – two lines of which brings sleep, or the eyes get shut automatically by seeing the books, and all fathers laughingly say, “dear, all pains are psychological” when a 20 kg bush smashes the toe nails and breaks the bone. All fathers know which is their child’s favourite fruit, all fathers do cry on their child’s graduation day or the day of the wedding. May be my father cries two lines more.
Then I remember my only elder brother. It was my father who didn’t let him study at the art college though he was very good at painting. It was him who asked my brother to leave the house for getting poor marks in mathematics. It was also him who compared my brother’s result and mine and kept saying that he won’t be able to become anything.
Then I remember my friend Debpriya Basu’s father, who punished Debpriya’s 13-year-old brother Kanak by standing him up completely naked in front of the house. Kanak killed himself that night. Then I think of the case file of London, where a father raped his 4-year-old daughter for a few years in a row. I recall my friend Lee Mcbride, whose father left him when he was only 2 years old.
I do think of numerous unknown fathers in the newspaper, who divorced and left the mothers for giving birth to a girl child, killed the girl child inside the mother’s womb, and sold his own child. I think of my friends’ fathers; who silently tortured physically and psychologically some of my friends and made them psychologically disable.
Probably I am a cynical person. I am incapable of seeing only good, pretty and innocent thing in everything. Yes, everyone’s father might be extraordinary to them, but do we see the extraordinariness just because we have the love for them in our eyes? My brother obviously sent my father a card called ‘happy father’s day’ with beautiful verses written on it. May be he will never share the incidents of those disrespectful days to anybody, but somewhere in the fine streets of his brain’s memory cells aren’t those incidents stored like an infection? Not at all?
Can someone be a father by giving birth or just by donating a few millilitre sperm? A good number of my friends have become fathers recently. They upload pictures of healthy babies with necks still weak as boiled pasta on their back, shoulder, and chest or in prams. I love those pictures. But at the same time it comes to my mind when these babies will grow up when their necks and heads will be strong, will their fathers still accept them in the same loving way? The children are also individual human beings, would they remember it? Or would they make their children responsible for their own failures and put a few kg weight of books on their shoulders, responsibility to have good results, good job; a good marriage and think their duty is carried out?
Probably the generation gap between father and children is coming to an end among the people of my generation. I had seen a lot of my friends talking to their mother in an indulgent and joyful voice while they saw their father with fear and respect from the distance. The fathers of our time would also be serious and maintained a distance from us. Their expression of love would also be serious. In our generation who are becoming fathers, that gap is not visible anymore. It’s a delightful matter. But to be a good father it is not the generation gap but the psychological gap that needs to be demolished, do we think about that? It is important to see the child as an individual human being rather than ‘my child’; do we know that?
May be one day I want to be a mother of a happy child. I might accept the father of my child to be a thief, a dishonest businessman, a misogynist male chauvinist, or an immoral politician – but should he be a good father; the father for whom my child never has to be dishonored, ashamed or leave his/her dreams in Buriganaga to fulfill his father’s unfulfilled dreams.
Yesterday was fathers’ day. I want to wish all the fathers of the world. Those who gave birth, those who became fathers without giving birth, those who could not be fathers but walking the streets everyday with a fatherly heart, those who could express love, those who could not express love, those who ran behind their children’s bicycle, those who didn’t run behind bicycle but kept an eye on their children’s knees from distance, those who fed their children by starving, those who brought up their children by theft money from others, those who carried their children’s dead body; love for all of them.
But those who could not be fathers after giving birth, those who raped their children, those who made their children mentally disable, those who left their children, those who could not reach their children’s heart, those who didn’t respect their children as humans, those could never be fathers. They became sperm donors; they could give birth, but could not be fathers. They have my pity.
So happy father’s day to all dads everywhere! (The article was originally written keeping Father’s Day in mind)
So happy puffed rice eating day to all the sperm donors who could not be fathers! You eat puffed rice and swear that you would never ejaculate your sperm anywhere.
The condom is very cheap now in the world.
The writer is a forensic research scientist, part time designer, a lover of black cats, big bang theory and fluffy french pastry. She hates religious fanaticism and patriarchy and writes fearlessly against these issues.
To read the original article, Click Here.
Tinni Rahman is a design professional. A multi-talented individual, her passions include travelling and learning new languages. She speaks 5 languages and travelled extensively across Asia and Europe. She is contributing to Women Chapter’s mission by translating some of the best articles from the Bengali site in her spare time.