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Sometimes I forget that dad is a man. Because for me, he’s always been just dad. Something of his own. Another species. Not belonging too much of either the Y or X chromosome. He’s just good old dad. Mr Chowdhury.

So when yesterday (Day 22) he said in front of everyone, and I’m talking about his daughters, son-in-law and the rest of us, that “Not once has your mum cooked meat biryani for me” I was in utter shock. He sounded like all the other boys in the house :O

Dad, my dad, the one who has been the saint in the family so far, who carried us through all the past Ramadans without complaint, actually said those words. Mum was surprised, but she didn’t stand for it “But you never said you wanted any. I asked everyday what you would like for iftaar but you never said you wanted any

So today, mum made it:

2013 © Day 23 My iftaar ii

But in the end dad could only have so much after a day of fasting so mum looked a little annoyed. It seems like I’m blaming dad, then again maybe things shouldn’t have ended up like this. Maybe we shouldn’t have let it get to a stage where what dad likes is overlooked simply because he always says “Make whatever you want. I’ll eat anything“.

What I’m trying to say is that he became like the uncomplaisant, forgotten middle-child who says they’re happy with everything so people take that for granted and stop paying attention all together. In other words, I’m sorry dad.

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