CHENNAI: This dad has a Harley Davidson. He drinks beer all the time and drives a truck — not the yellow Tata transport vandis you see on the road, but one of those matte black Suzuki trucks. I used to think, back when my age and IQ was 10, that perhaps this uncle just had a really fancy goods transportation business. Because after all, it only depended on the person — if a poor person stole money, it would be called robbery and fleeing justice, but when you monetise it successfully, it’s called ‘rising interests on bad debts’ and a quick vacation to the UK. This dad swears when he talks to you. He swears when he talks to your parents. He swears when he talks to you in front of your parents and you have to pretend you don’t know what he’s saying while your parents smile stiffly.
The iDad
When I usually see the iDad, he’s sitting in the living room, connecting his iPhone X to his new smartscreen voice-activated TV while having his iPad or tablet playing music on his wireless Bose speakers through Bluetooth. The iDad is a tech junkie. He will always ask me about my phone, its RAM, its memory space, its battery life and its gigabyte processor, and I will always mumble something that sounds smart, because it’s better than saying, ‘The camera is really nice.’ He will always lament on the lack of iPhone service centres in Chennai and the low penetration of Apple products in India. Once, I suggested that Androids were popular because you could just go to Mahesh on 4th Street and get everything fixed in an hour for 500 bucks, and he clutched his chest with his new bionic iHand — I’m just kidding, he’s a father, not a human Autobot. Though I’m not sure sometimes.
The NRI Father
The NRI Father is someone you stumble upon during the holidays. He’s Indian, and without a doubt South Indian, but the Silicon Valley has rubbed off on him. He thinks and talks in exchange rates, goes off on how poor infrastructure and administration is in the country. He is always trying to find the right Mexican restaurant for dinner. He will always ask you about your future, listen to your dreams, and then suggest you do that in the glorious first-world, where opportunities are endless and golden, and in a land with white supremacy, while trying to tie his mundu properly. Talk about conflicting messages, unlike race relations in the West. What I love about the NRI Father is that right after arriving at the airport, he’ll try to immediately switch to his native tongue while still having his Californian drawl.
The Musical Artist
This is a common occurrence in my house. I’d be walking to the kitchen to get a snack, and I’d hear my father singing at the top of his lungs. I haven’t commented on the quality of the singing yet, but everybody instantly knows what song is being sung and what pitch it’s being sung at. Alternatively, I walk into the kitchen to see my father humming a tune and doing a little jig while twirling the knife in one hand and the banana in the other. Once again, every dad has a different dance.