“About My Father!”
The day I gifted my dear father an iPhone was the day blessings entered my life in mysterious ways.
At 80 years of age, technology is an enigma to him. His trusty old Samsung had been a loyal companion over the years, simple and familiar. But I thought perhaps it was time he joined the modern world.
Little did I know the divine interventions that would unfold. It seems my father’s fingers have a mind of their own when it comes to his newfangled device. They find themselves frequently drawn to the call button, beckoning me at all hours across the great distance. Thanks to his cherished status in my contacts, the call pierces through, as if destiny herself willed our connection.
Today at 4 a.m., when the ghostly ringing stirred me from slumber. In my groggy state, I fumbled for my phone, heard a silence from the other side, and realized it is yet another unintended late night call.
Eager to return to sleep, my head found the pillow once more. Realization dawned — my taxi to the airport was arriving in 30 minutes! If not for my father’s divine timing, I would have missed my early morning flight.
So thank you, dearest Father, for your heavenly timing. You may not know the role you played in my fateful escape, but the Universe works in mysterious ways. I am blessed to have a father who looks out for me, even from afar. Truly, some bonds transcend age and distance.
Like for many of us, my father has been my first and most influential career coach. As I reflect on my 20 years in the professional world, I realize just how much his advice and example have shaped my path.
I was told many times by my career coaches to start writing. I think, this is a great topic to kick off my public writing spree.
My father born in British India into a prominent agricultural family. While his family and friends continued the family business of agriculture, he set his sights on becoming an attorney at law. He left his village after finishing his undergraduate studies and earned his law degree from the Law College of Pune. A popular political leader, Dad’s second cousin — urged him to pursue a government job in a big city for better career prospects. But my father chose a different route: private practice at the district courthouse, close to family and his rural roots.
While wealth and fame motivated others, he found joy in helping underprivileged villagers and laborers who couldn’t afford legal help. I remember him complaining good-naturedly that clients failed to pay his fees. Yet he’d still represent them, often at his own expense. The elderly bowed to him in gratitude, though he felt uncomfortable with such veneration. Dad’s modest contentment and focus on simple pleasures took root in his kids. To this day, we the siblings find happiness in small things, not in chasing shiny objects.
Two qualities especially shaped us — Dad’s integrity and honesty. I recall when he led internal audits and uncovered employee misconduct for one of the corporations. Despite needing money badly, Dad refused a bribe to falsify his report.
Another time, Dad spearheaded bringing telephone lines to our village. (Many might have heard from the current Google CEO on how difficult it was those days in India to get the landline phones). He tirelessly campaigned and collected funds until the minimum threshold was met. The new telephone exchange benefited countless villagers. True to form, Dad returned leftover pennies so no one could question his motives. He never took credit either — I heard others got recognized for his efforts through political campaigns!
Dad taught me that doing what’s right matters more than money or praise. His quiet dedication and high principles still guide me today.
I’m lucky to have such an honorable father as my first career coach.
I still remember how my father, the stoic John Dutton of our family farm, persevered through every hardship that came his way. When the finances grew complex and unpredictable weather washed out crops four to five seasons in a row, it was enough to break any man’s spirit and sell off the piece of the ancestral land. But my father was cut from sturdier stock — like the John Dutton, he had promised himself to never relinquish the family acres. So my father battled the elements and the bank, keeping his struggles private as he worked tirelessly to keep the farm afloat. At home, he maintained a calm facade, not wanting his troubles to burden the family. We never saw him break down or lash out in frustration.
He was a pillar of quiet resilience, demonstrating how to stand tall in the face of adversity.
Then came the day I mouthed off during a televised political debate. Caught up in the bombastic rhetoric of the TV anchor, I made a petty comment about the nation’s leader. My father pulled me aside, disappointment heavy in his voice. “He’s an esteemed economist, country’s leader. He deserves your respect,” he admonished gently.
His words struck deep. I realized then the value of humility, and the folly of letting provocative influences cloud my judgment of others. From that day forward, I understood the importance of separating policy from personality, and maintaining respect for those in power regardless of disagreements. My father’s simple scolding put me on a wiser path, for which I am forever grateful.
He has a strong convictions who cared deeply about supporting farmers in our community. Though some of our family members held positions in local government, my father never shied away from vocally campaigning for policies and programs to help struggling farm families.
I learned that my father studied several religions in his early days. I believe this exposure shaped him into the open-minded, patient and philosophical person he is today. It could also be his study of Vedic Literature that instilled values of equality and balance.
As a lawyer, he taught me one important thing
“Don’t judge a case until you’ve heard both sides of the story.”
His favorite quote when any news of a court ruling came on TV was always
“Can’t comment until we read the whole judgement.”
He didn’t want me rushing to conclusions or assuming I knew the whole truth at first glance. He taught me to be thoughtful, see all perspectives, and let the full story emerge before deciding what’s right. With so much polarization today, I’m grateful for that lesson from my dad.
Whenever I’m quick to make a judgment, I think back to his advice and make an effort to hear the full case first.
