…because travelling alone is addictive

A wiser-than-his-age friend recently said to me, "It's you who's haunting your Dad. Let him rest, finally." That was when I started seeing less of my Dad in dreams. For the entire year, since we lost him, I was seeing him every single night.

Why am I posting this in a travel blog, because this changed my life and I realised how much I love being alone – and it is addictive. Traveling alone takes me closer to him.

This is something I wrote when I lost him in 2015:

Lost my dad to cancer. He gave the toughest fight – when doctors said a month max, he fought for 8. It was inspiring to watch him fight every day.
He was a scientist, not just by profession. He researched on every little detail of the disease, more out of curiosity than finding cures. He explained it to us with brilliant examples, awed by the discoveries – as if Rajiv Makhni was explaining the technology behind a new world-changing gadget.
For us, the last 8 months were all about #cancer. Except dad, all of us wondered why us, why him! The question people naturally asked was whether he drank or smoked. He didn’t. Err… well expect once, when I and Mom forced him to taste a little beer. He naively went for his regular blood test after that and got busted! Punishment: Double dose of a yukki medicine.
His first PET-scan report after 3 cycles of chemo was deceptive. It showed miraculous improvements. Even his consulting doctor, India’s leading oncologist, the reputed Dr Advani, wanted to see him for this. This motivated my dad even further and also gave us courage to spoil him more, to make him do things he always wanted to, prepare dishes he liked. But, we realised that we never actually knew about the things my dad wanted! I guess, all this while he was so busy fulfilling Mom’s and my unending wishes that he never got the time to even think of his own. He was just there, living for us. Fathers!
We figured out that all he liked was a lot of people around him. And I’m glad that he got them. He was the happiest when people came to see him, called him.
We flew him to his beloved house for the last rites. It was late in the night, still over 200 people turned up to see him.

Cancer. It kills you...every day. Not just the patients, but the people who love them. It is life’s tight slap. It killed a part of us.

Cancer. It gave us time for each other. In these 8 months, we stayed together as much as we could - dad, mom, my husband Amol, my brother Ankur & his wife Rima. Ever since I got married, this was the maximum time I spent with them. Maybe that was dad’s only wish. But, I didn’t do enough.
If it wasn’t for Ankur (and Rima), we would have never survived this. He was our shield, on his toes 24x7. I was always dad’s favourite, we knew, but during this phase I wasn’t there enough. I even avoided eye contact with him. I was afraid he would see through them what we were trying to hide from him… that the disease was getting worse.
I was around him, but there was a distance between us. The distance went on increasing in my attempt to hide my emotions from him. I wish I hadn’t, because he knew everything.
I missed all the things I could have said to him. I had so many questions for him, so many things to share. And I had time for it. He bore the pain to secure time for me. He gave me 8 long months...
He died peacefully, in his sleep. I guess he got everything he wished for during these last days. Thanks to Mom, Rima, Amol, Ankur and all the relatives who helped us constantly. We are glad he is beyond the excruciating pain now. But the only thing that haunts me: I didn’t do enough! I didn’t say enough!
Request:
Please get all your loved ones checked for cancer. It doesn’t just happen in movies or to other people, it is real.

And yes, you don’t have to tell your parents you love them. They know it, but please tell them why you are proud of them. THANK THEM!!