National Daughters Day: Daddy's little kid becomes supergirl in no time

“You think you are superman?” she chided, as I started to lug my suitcase down the stairs. Though shocked by her response, I still let her take over the task from me.

What the hell? Though it was 18 years ago, it still feels like it was just the other day when she was lying in my forearms, wrapped in a towel, snuggling nicely between my elbows and palms.

I remember her little feet gently kicking my biceps and her sparkling little black eyes looking up at me through lids that were hardly open. The eyes were set into a little pink face, topped by a cute little tangle of wild thick black hair. From that day to the first time she took on the image of my 32-year-old face, it had been ‘my daddy strongest!’

Thankfully, age bestows unseen strengths, especially the strength to dilute disappointment.

Wasn’t it just the other day when another little creature had held up a mirror? That was her brother, older than her by four years.

He was only seven then. My wife and I were on the large cemented dance floor of the Officers' Mess at the Western Naval Command Mess in Mumbai. The dance floor and the fine green lawn rang with the laughter of cheerful families. The lovely waterfront and the stiff sea breeze were uplifting. The fleet was back in town and the young families were celebrating their brief reunion.

He had tagged along, in various random states of motion. Buoyantly sprinting off one moment, getting dragged the next, heavy from recalcitrance.

I carried his plastic cricket bat and ball and my wife carried his water bottle.

On the dance floor, he and I launched into an impromptu ‘catch me if you can.’

I managed to evade his opening parleys with deft movements and use my wife as an island to run around. Then he suddenly stopped. He began to concentrate. He stopped looking into my eyes and shifted his gaze to my legs. He realised that looking into my eyes was a mistake. A moment or two of evaluation and a determined assault began.

OODA loop and all that jazz.

He was soon getting really close, and I was running out of breath. But he kept coming. Two minutes later, as he celebrated his triumph over his superman. I slumped down, depleted.

For a brief moment, I blamed it on the inactivity of the previous three months at sea.

But suddenly a huge ache set in. The sea breeze turned oppressive. The waterfront dissolved into a lifeless image, and that cursed day became etched in my memory.

Parents will always be parents. My parents never realised that my poor marks in Sainik School were not due to lack of tuition or comprehension. There were better things to do in a boys-only boarding school than run after marks! The result was an unwelcome and unnecessary tuition during vacations.

So there we were, my dad and me. He, riding his Hercules cycle, and I, perched on the bar in front, my Class 7 textbook safely deposited inside my tucked-in shirt.

As dad negotiated a gentle climb along the five-km long journey from Mecri Circle to the Postal Colony in Bangalore, I sensed, for the first time in my life, something strange from my daddy strongest.

Without a thought, I asked my superman why he was panting. He stayed quiet. I knew something was wrong. That night he drank hard. A week later he rode home on a new Lambretta scooter.

There are no supermen in real life. But there are super moms, super sons, super dads, and many super someone or the other, by birth or by law. But somehow, supergirls tower above all others. Especially, super daughters. They are super special.

My love goes to mine on this National Daughters’ Day. And I speak for all who are in my shoes today.

Article by- Commodore G Prakash (Retired)

In his 36 years in the Indian Navy, Commodore G Prakash was the Captain of three warships and four large shore units. He is now the Vice President of a multinational company and is based in Odisha. He has been writing and speaking on a variety of topics for over two decades.