As a child, I remember consciously making it a point to be exactly like you in every aspect – whether it was food, taste in books and music, sense of humor, anything at all. Of course, eighteen years later, I’m not close to the person you are or were at my age. But when someone says that I sound like you or I’m a lot like you, it makes me the happiest. In my eyes, you’ve always been perfect. Everything about you has always been ideal and flawless to me and perhaps when they talk about being Daddy’s Little Girl, they really do mean it.
You’ve always been there, everytime I’ve needed you. Whether it was learning Bharatanatyam steps to help me practice or spatula wars in the kitchen to cheer me up after a bad day, throughout it all. My essential talent of making a variety of faces at security cameras, little kids and generally everywhere is a trait I’ve inherited purely from you.
You’re also my telepathic buddy, sometimes we loudly wonder why we even bother to open our mouths. And while I may be generally quiet and reserved to most people, I just can’t shut up when I’m with you. You’re literally everything to me, in every aspect. I know I’m growing up faster than you would like and soon, I’ll probably have to move away but at the end of the day, I’ll always crave for your warm hugs and that comforting voice that makes me feel like the safest person in the world.
So I’m a complete mess sometimes, I don’t always make you proud and I’m definitely not the best daughter you could’ve asked for. But Baba, if there’s one thing in the world that I love with my whole heart, it’s always going to be you. This might sound very stereotypical, but it honestly is the truth. I’m sorry for all the times I’ve hurt you, I absolutely hate disappointing you. But at the same time, someday, you’ll see, someday I’ll make you so proud that you’ll have that huge grin on your face and that’s really all I work towards.
I hope you live forever because the mere idea of you not being around for a single second makes me tear up (this is not an exaggeration, not one bit of it).
Happy Birthday, best friend.
You’re my hero.
P.S. This is probably one of the very few posts that I’ve put up without passing it through you, my personal Editor. I feel like I haven’t done enough justice to you with this post but it’s hard putting it all in words.