Dear Dad,

Yesterday the teacher asked us to make Father’s Day cards in craft class. My friends drew pictures of their dads and listed out all of their wonderful qualities. They wrote big words that I don’t know how to spell. They wrote down words I can’t even understand. They said he was the best footballer in the world! And I sat wondering, ‘their dads play with them?’ I thought dads never played with kids because they were always at work. When can we play some football together?

Daddy, there’s a child in my grade who pulls my hair a lot. I complained to the teacher. The teacher scolded him and he called his dad. His dad accused me of fighting with him instead. His dad told the teacher his son was not at fault. So the teacher decided to get to the bottom of the matter, both dads involved. I tried your cellphone, you never answered. I spent the rest of the afternoon standing outside the classroom.

I almost drowned today, Dad. I went to wet my feet in the sea with friends and a wave tossed me over. I couldn’t breathe for a bit. I was flapping my limbs like crazy. I managed to stand up abruptly. But my spectacles floated away in a distance. I wish we had continued with those swimming lessons.

Dad, I’m sad sometimes. I wish to talk to you like my friends talk to their dads. They say he’s more fun than their mom. That he isn’t as strict as he was when they were little. That they can tell him about their crushes. I watch you from the crack in my door as you enter the house well past my bedtime. You always seem angry and stressed. I close my eyes and let a whispered ‘goodnight’ leave my lips.

I’m done with college dad, and I’m back home for a short break before I go off to face the world. Mom preps me with a lot of really good advice. She says I should give my job my 100 per cent. That I should work hard and smart. She’s right. I do want to work as hard as you, dad. But more so, I want to leave work on time so I can spend quality time with my family. I have big plans. Not career plans. But plans to spend time with the ones I love. The kind I wish you had.

I come home to you parked in front of the TV. It’s been a month that this has been going on. You spend a lot of working hours watching the all-important cricket tournament. You work late hours to make time for your cricket fancy. I protest. “Who are you to tell me what to do,” you say. “Are you my boss?” “No,” I mutter under my breath, “Just a child deprived of your time.”

I’ve met a man, dad. He is wonderful and sensitive. He listens to me talk endlessly. And he wipes my tears when I cry for the most trivial things. Despite my many flaws, he loves spending time with me. Sometimes I wonder how he has so much time to give. He is a working man, after all. It’s odd, he doesn’t say he’s busy always.

Dad, we’re expecting a baby. You’re going to be a grandfather! Isn’t it exciting? I’m over the moon and so is he. He’s going to be a dad! I pray for my gorgeous family everyday. I pray for good health and happiness for you and mom, for lots of bliss in the lives of my siblings and for him and I to share a happy marriage. But most of all, I pray that there never comes a day that my child writes – or says – the words, “Dear dad, I need your time.”

We’re parents of two now, dad. It’s lovely having these tots around. But we struggle sometimes. Money doesn’t grow on trees. We call home sometimes and mom talks to the kids and us for hours. And then you poke your head at us and the kids giggle excitedly. You ask us how we are, what I cooked and about the weather. And again I feel like I’m the little girl playing a game of small talk with you.

I love you for being the wonderful provider you have been. And I can understand that you really struggled for us. But I wish we spent more time together. I wish we had more memories to cherish. But we’re both old now, you a little older than I. And it’s probably too late to tell you that, Dear Dad, I need your time.