My relationship with Dadoo is indeed a very unique one – a daughter, a friend, a partner. I have fought with him, discussed family matters, politics, life partners, philosophy and death, even his suicidal tendencies.
No one can be a better parent (a father) than him. I do not remember one incident where I had rebelled or done something that he didn’t want me to do. Even when he did not want me to do something it was discussed openly and a way out was found. Not once did he say ‘You cannot’ or ‘You should not’, whether it was my marriage; my career; travelling with friends; a thing I wanted to buy; or my food habits. I was never taught to discriminate between castes, status, wealth – there were just three things: humanity, right and wrong and do what you want to do, which probably meant being happy.
He was not interested in what other professor’s sons and daughters were doing. He never compared us to them, he never nagged us. His motto was not to run after careers – an engineer, a doctor, a bureaucrat – it was always how to live life and do what you wanted to do. In the early 1990s I wanted to be a journalist and when I told this to Dadoo he was on top of the world. Vikram wanted to be a chef and Dadoo supported him wholeheartedly. Deepu wanted to be an engineer; and Dadoo encouraged him just as much.
I remember, I was fifteen when I first got to know about ‘caste’. Having studied in Nigeria, the Indian caste system was not part of our syllabus and neither was it ever discussed at home. During the ragging session in the college I was asked, ‘Do you belong to a lower caste?’ I just had no idea what caste was and I smiled and said, ‘May be’ thinking that it must be a good thing to belong to. I can still recall the dazed expression on that senior’s face. He repeated many times: ‘Are you sure?’ Exasperated, in the end, I truthfully said, ‘I do not know.’ He told me to go and ask my father.
And thus I asked Dadoo: ‘Are we of lower caste?’
Dadoo laughed gaily and robustly, ‘Who told you so?’
‘Some guy in the college.’ I murmured, confused thinking probably it is something funny. We both were sitting on the stairs, he asked me the details. I repeated the conversation, he laughed more gaily and then said, ‘Meri beti, hum schedule caste nahin hai [my child, we are not schedule caste]. Tell him that. And also tell him that hamari koi caste nahin hai [we do not have any caste].’
The next day the same senior asked me gleefully: ‘What did your father say?’ I told him. Dazed he exclaimed, ‘Are you Christians?’
I was a little agitated, this I was sure of, I was not: Though it did not make much difference to me – Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs. I had read the Bible and the Quran. It was something like reading maths, English, science, something like staying in India, Nigeria, London.
In Nigeria we had to choose between Christianity or Islam as subject. Dadoo was casual about it and said, ‘It is your choice.’ And I did. For two months I attended Christianity classes and for the next two Quran classes and kept hopping from one to the other though I chose Islam for exam.
Now I shook my head vigorously and said that I am a Hindu, he again said, ‘Go and ask your father which caste you belong to.’ I adamantly said, ‘He has said that I have no caste.’
‘Every Hindu is of a caste,’ the senior said. This bewildered me.
Again in the evening I narrated this discussion, this time Mamma was also around and as Dadoo laughed, Mamma irritatingly said, ‘There is nothing funny about this. Tell her hum Khatri hain [we are Khatris].’
Oh how funny I found this word ‘Khatri’. I had laughed clutching my stomach, falling from the diwan, it was such a weird word. And to the further irritation of Mamma, Dadoo joined me too. It was only later when we had calmed down from this hilarious outburst that he told me that Hindus were of four main castes and we fell on the third number. I was not very happy about this, the next day I sheepishly told the senior, ‘Main Khatri hoon [I am a Khatri].’
I have heard that upbringing of a child is done more by the mother than the father but for us, it was the other way round. I remember so many small titbit advises, understandings that were given to me by my father as compared to my mother: building confidence, giving exposure, opening the mind, unknowingly and unconsciously being taught what is family, what is right, what is wrong, the fear of law, the stark honesty in your deeds, the compassion, the humanity, enjoying the present, travel as a teacher, socialization, open discussions without inhibitions, making your viewpoint known, watching films, reading newspapers and books. The list is endless. So many such small things which make a big picture in your life were all given by him. It is not that my mother did nothing but yes she was always overshadowed by his larger than life personality, by his careless freedom, by his faith in us.