Its a rather typical behaviour of human beings to depend on a higher power. A power on which one can depend, which can be blamed when things go wrong, which can give you hope when nothing seems to be going right. Everyone has their own God to trouble. I had one too and to a certain extent He still stands behind me supporting me as I walk on in life and pulls me out of the occasional ditches which unseeingly I walk right into. He is not an immortal, ten limbed, four headed, tiger riding creature but just a normal God fearing, man. He's just my dad.
From the day the word "Father" made sense to me, I have been an avid fan of his. He was my Hero, the all knowing, omnipotent man. Everything he told me was a new amazing fact, a rule to be followed, a truth that cannot be doubted. He was the coolest guy in the crowd, the best of the lot. He was the one whom I ran to when my Mom would not listen, who would play to all my whims and childish fantasies, who would make sure I got my “Tintin” and “Famous Five” every month.
But then life wouldn’t be so interesting if things were so simple and happy. Education and life seem to gang up against me and teach me some bitter truths of life. The day came when I started making decisions and accepting facts based on what was right and what was wrong (the day I discovered my conscience). A trivial incident of accidently reading my dad’s speech turned my world upside down. I realized that the speech which my dad was supposed to give the next day had mistakes in it. But how could that be? He never makes mistakes. All these years, there was no one who could speak better english than my dad. Then how did he make such mistakes? I couldn’t believe it but the mistakes stared at me from the white sheet of paper, mocking me. Strange questions startd troubling me. Had he always been making mistakes? All these years of blind faith that I had in him, was it all a mistake? My life seem to be in a turmoil. My faith was being questioned by a jury a faceless doubts. It was the day I realised that my God was nothing more than a erring man.
From then on the dormant seed of doubt which had laid quiet under my blanket of childish ignorance seem to germinate with a burst of fury. A sense of rebellion had engulfed me. Everything that my God told me was to be treated with suspicion. Life seemed miserable but I could not escape from it. It had taken complete control over me. But the same conscience that once questioned my faith also made it clear how I really felt about my father. I knew I loved him more than any other man and I still had the courage to hug him and tell him that.
As I grew and neared the end of my teens, the concept of a super human dad was much clearer. There was no such thing. It felt bad but truth, they say, is always difficult to acknowledge. I have realized that everyman tried to do his best as a father. Some succeed and some don’t. If I ever had a choice of changing any event between me and my father, I would let it pass without a single thought.
But answers to problems are nothing more than new problems. The question which now comes to my mind is that if there is no super human dads then what happens to me? Will my kids go through the same things? Or is there something that can be done to avoid it? What if I start telling my kids right from the beginning that I am just a normal human being. Will it make sense to them? But then again it was not my dad’s fault that I thought he was God. He never told me to worship him. It was I who assigned him a position. So does that mean I have no control over how my kids deal with it? Who’s to be blamed for God’s downfall? God himself or the worshippers who expect to much of him?
The questions remain unanswered but I guess time answers all questions. For now I have an answer. I have lost my God but I have found the better man who I want to be. He’s just my Dad