By Gaurav Parab
They just made one of him and then smashed the mold. This light-eyed, tall, raging bear of a man who smelt of old spice and recklessness, who could take up anything—sport, painting, music, cooking, science, being a father or what have you one day and be a master of it the next—passed to another world ten years ago.
Not once did he tell my sister or me what to do. Not once did he hesitate to sacrifice his passions to stop us from celebrating ours. Not once did he pause before throwing a punch to protect the honor of his family.
He was a man amongst men. Black or white. No grays except those light yet piercing eyes and that small chunk of hair that only added to his inexplicable charm.
Whatever world he is in, his booming laugh rings through its corridors. Whatever he is doing, he is doing it easily surrounded by his good boys and girls—Stefan, Steffi, Crush, Dusty, Sheil, and my very heart, Joko. Whatever he is looking at, his eyes twinkle with the light of the ancient stars that witness and understand everything.
He passed when I was not in town, but that's okay. He was never the one for the ceremony, and he was not one for words either, so nothing remained unsaid. It was the greatest stroke of fortune for our family that such a brilliant man was our father, husband, and friend.
Ullhas Parab did everything with all he had including the exit. I have no regrets, no complaints for you my Baba.
Wait. There is one. Why the hell did my sister get all the tall person genes?
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