After a long and difficult flight from Delhi, my weariness melted away as I walked out of the immigration and customs clearance area at JFK. She was standing there, all of 24, a Lower East Side sophisticate and simply gorgeous. She rushed out from under the barrier and hugged me. “Hi Daddy,” she said. Then she took charge. Taxis, hotel check-in, local cell phone and what have you. I’m a very lucky father because both my daughters look after me with the same persnickety concern that I had when I took care of them.
The older one booked my passage to New York, worrying about my aisle seat and my meal preference, which for some reason has been put down in every airline as a “Hindu” special. I had to convince the stewardess that I’d prefer steak and a glass of Merlot. Believe me: the food was really good though the seats were not very comfortable.
The younger daughter took over after I reached JFK. As she shepherded me through the airport, I could see she had changed in the year since I had been with her in New York. Sure, she had been in India in the interim; they always say it is better to see lions in their own habitat. And in her precinct that is the aspirational model for every cool person in the world, she shines and is carelessly sophisticated.
When I was much younger and first came to New York in the company of my friend David Swanson, a native, the city was a dream. He lived in the Village and effortlessly took me to the best, off-the-beaten track restaurants and bars. I loved every minute of the experience in the 1970s. Three decades later, I’m cruising the “hoods” in the Lower East Side with my younger daughter and discovering even cooler places. All fathers should be so lucky.
All these years, I’ve looked after every need of my daughters. Today I count myself fortunate that they take care of me. I can manage on my own of course but there’s a special joy in having competent and caring daughters look after you. I’ve always believed that sophistication came very easily to me. But at brunch last Sunday at a trendy little bistro on the Lower East Side, I ordered a draught beer with my Eggs Benedict where my younger one ordered a Mimosa, champagne and orange juice, with her apple pancake.
The afternoon I arrived, when she broke through the barrier and hugged me, we drove to my hotel. The room was not ready and I was jet-lagged. “Father,” she says to me, “I’ve got the perfect cure.” We checked my bag with the concierge and rode a cab to “The Frying Pan,” a beer and burger place on a barge on the Hudson River on the West Side. There we indulged a couple of beers and what to me was one of the better burgers I’ve had, period.
Later that evening, we checked out the cafes and bars near Union Square, close to where she lived when she enrolled at NYU six years ago. She had made a reservation at a 19th street restaurant called “crafts” but we still had to wait until a table became available. So much for the recession! The restaurant was abuzz; Manhattan at its weekend best. The ambience was great and food to match.
More important, it was a glimpse into my daughter’s world. At age 24, she lives in the trendy Lower East Side and works in edgy SoHo. Her job is also a very 21st century enterprise having to do with the production of interactive multimedia content. The very fact that she landed a satisfying job in the midst of a raging recession seems to have buoyed her confidence. Where half a million people lose their jobs each month, she switched jobs. Deservedly, she is very proud of her new position and excitedly displays her fancy new business card.
As always, the visit proved too short. We spent virtually every minute of my stay together. As I got in the cab to head for the airport, I looked back at her receding figure, waving at me. I heard a song go out of my heart. Amazingly, it wasn’t Ellington or Billie Holiday or Louis Armstrong. The lines that reverberated in my head were from a song in the film, "The Sound of Music:"
Somewhere in my youth or childhood,
I must have done something good…
Daughters are a blessing to begin with but to love them and have them love you back is a fulfillment of the highest order.
Copyright Rajiv Desai 2009
The older one booked my passage to New York, worrying about my aisle seat and my meal preference, which for some reason has been put down in every airline as a “Hindu” special. I had to convince the stewardess that I’d prefer steak and a glass of Merlot. Believe me: the food was really good though the seats were not very comfortable.
The younger daughter took over after I reached JFK. As she shepherded me through the airport, I could see she had changed in the year since I had been with her in New York. Sure, she had been in India in the interim; they always say it is better to see lions in their own habitat. And in her precinct that is the aspirational model for every cool person in the world, she shines and is carelessly sophisticated.
When I was much younger and first came to New York in the company of my friend David Swanson, a native, the city was a dream. He lived in the Village and effortlessly took me to the best, off-the-beaten track restaurants and bars. I loved every minute of the experience in the 1970s. Three decades later, I’m cruising the “hoods” in the Lower East Side with my younger daughter and discovering even cooler places. All fathers should be so lucky.
All these years, I’ve looked after every need of my daughters. Today I count myself fortunate that they take care of me. I can manage on my own of course but there’s a special joy in having competent and caring daughters look after you. I’ve always believed that sophistication came very easily to me. But at brunch last Sunday at a trendy little bistro on the Lower East Side, I ordered a draught beer with my Eggs Benedict where my younger one ordered a Mimosa, champagne and orange juice, with her apple pancake.
The afternoon I arrived, when she broke through the barrier and hugged me, we drove to my hotel. The room was not ready and I was jet-lagged. “Father,” she says to me, “I’ve got the perfect cure.” We checked my bag with the concierge and rode a cab to “The Frying Pan,” a beer and burger place on a barge on the Hudson River on the West Side. There we indulged a couple of beers and what to me was one of the better burgers I’ve had, period.
Later that evening, we checked out the cafes and bars near Union Square, close to where she lived when she enrolled at NYU six years ago. She had made a reservation at a 19th street restaurant called “crafts” but we still had to wait until a table became available. So much for the recession! The restaurant was abuzz; Manhattan at its weekend best. The ambience was great and food to match.
More important, it was a glimpse into my daughter’s world. At age 24, she lives in the trendy Lower East Side and works in edgy SoHo. Her job is also a very 21st century enterprise having to do with the production of interactive multimedia content. The very fact that she landed a satisfying job in the midst of a raging recession seems to have buoyed her confidence. Where half a million people lose their jobs each month, she switched jobs. Deservedly, she is very proud of her new position and excitedly displays her fancy new business card.
As always, the visit proved too short. We spent virtually every minute of my stay together. As I got in the cab to head for the airport, I looked back at her receding figure, waving at me. I heard a song go out of my heart. Amazingly, it wasn’t Ellington or Billie Holiday or Louis Armstrong. The lines that reverberated in my head were from a song in the film, "The Sound of Music:"
Somewhere in my youth or childhood,
I must have done something good…
Daughters are a blessing to begin with but to love them and have them love you back is a fulfillment of the highest order.
Copyright Rajiv Desai 2009
10 comments:
"I can manage on my own of course" he says.
of course...
This was a real nice read, especially since I have watched them both grow up in front of my eyes!
Mine started taking care of me even before they left home. One was 14, the other 12. I remember how on a trip to Matheran, the two of them and my son lured Ingrid and me up the slopes of the mountain. Let's do Matheran cross-country, they said, and we said yes to humor them. After the very first hill, every one of my 43 years then weighed like a ton on my back as we struggled up the rocks. It was not my son (he smiled in amusement) but the two little girls who pulled us up the slopes. In hindsight, I now believe that they made us do the trip on purpose -- to get a chance to show even then that they could do for us, what we had till then done for them.
I loved your piece, Rajiv for one of the big reasons we love good writing -- we see bits of ourselves in it.
Your write up makes for interesting reading, but makes one wonder about your J-school days in USA. That seems conspicuous by it's absence, especially since you evidently pursued that subject as a career. So, here's a suggestion: Please write about your PR/journalism experiences in USA. We (your readers) would like to read about related experiences too. Those heady days of the 70s and 80s in Chicago and Cincinnati.
It is unfortunate you tend to see America through rose-tinted glasses and always make it sound like the garden of Eden. It is time to wake up to reality and smell the coffee. The writing is on the wall, buddy, so I don't agree; but I appreciate the writing anyway. We can all agree to disagree in a civil tone. Never forget your manners, goes the saying. NYC is passe these days, especially during the winters and the Indian food out there is lousy.
Or maybe I am from another planet.
It is easy to talk and write about nice and pleasant experiences when you have both money and power, but at least try to be sensitive to how the "other side lives" for god's sake. Things are not really rosy. People have been really badly hit by the recession. Just because your darling younger daughter has a decent job...don't ridicule people who have been badly hit by the recessionary blues. You are also guilty of trivialising the issue, as usual. It is an ugly reality. Try to survive without a job in NYC.
yes, "anonymous," you do belong to another planet...let's call it the yellow planet in which cowards launch poison from the shelter of anonymity; on your yellow planet, fear is the ruling ethic, which explains why you're afraid to divulge your identity. denizens of this planet are called "scared cowards."
Okey dokey, Rajiv, down boy. Listen, no name calling, buddy-simmer down. Don't blow your fuse. At your age, check your BP coz all that red meat ain't good for your health. Don't jump to conclusions. I have come across the web only recently and I ain't that tech savvy like some people. I am not living in fear nor am I yellow bellied like you've mentioned. You are putting the cart before the horse. I am not afraid to divulge my identity. I came across your blog cause I have also lived in Cincinnati and Chicago and now live in NYC and currently between jobs. Hence, your blog seemed interesting to read--was recommended by a friend, who introduced me to the wonders of computers. We who are "blue collar" workers look upto you "white collar" folks, so don't blame us. I never used a computer all these years coz didn't need to.
My name is Joe, see, I ain't afraid to reveal my identity at all. And please watch your language, buddy, mind your manners.
But have to say--objectively speaking, still enjoy reading your stuff, although half the time you don't know what you are talking about. My life experiences tell me a different story--we are worlds apart. Also, been to India several times with my friend, hence she recommended your blog and here I am. I am not a scared coward; nor am I trying to launch poison. Buddy, you gotta be mature about these things. Just because we disagree don't make us enemies, okay? We've lived in different worlds and maybe our life experiences took us on different paths, and that's all there is to it. So, no need to take it personally. In fact, congratulations on a job well done and best regards to your family. No offence taken, I hope.
You have yourself a nice day, Sir.
And next time you are in NY, call on me and I'll buy you beer and pizza. How's that sound? Thanks.
No grudges and no hard feelings. Joe
be there in august. send me a number to call and we'll catch up.
Will do, Rajiv, I am glad you understood, finally. Don't know if you remember, buddy, but back in the 70s and 80s a TV show called, "Dukes of Hazards" was famous and popular; received great ratings. I am kinda like that:"just a good old boy, meanin' no harm..." Yep, we've got a lot of catchin' up to do, me and you--that's swell. Yes, I want to be in NYC, but even if I am not...still look forward to meeting up with one of my favorite writers, you.
And won't let you stay with your daughter nor any hotel. You won't be staying with me either...I have another place (pad) and I will spruce it up for you. You will stay there on your terms but at my expense as my honored guest. I am the owner of a business, and frequently travel, but that's the way you will be treated (like royalty) whether I am in town or not. Your daughter and friends can party hard too at that place--just enjoy yourself. It is really spacious and nice and I will keep it well-stocked especially for the lot of you. My only request? You guys should party hard as if you are back in woodstock and it is 1969, just like the old folksy song. Glad to be of service. I believe creative people like you should be valued, that's why. You are the true artists of society: your penmanship proves it. Keep up the great work. Blessings to you and your family.
Your friend,
Joe Six Pack.
P.S. This is how my "friends" make fun of me all the time...wish I could change my name, sometimes, but hell, whaddya know, that's life
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