Hey Dad!

All bundled up in your multi layer defense system against the barely discernible cold of lahore, you looked so funny. But having seen you tremble with near asphyxiation I understood the demands aging had placed on you. I remember rushing in to get your pathani topi when we'd be heading out to eat that chargha you liked so much.
And everytime you'd go decked out in your Pakhtoon-stuck-in-abysmally-cold-punjab you adopted that hilarious pissed of pathan persona. Speaking urdu with a pushto accent and cursing loudly at everything that walked in pushto. I doubt you ever saw it but i used to do the same in the states. And i think every one loved that routine just as much as your kids did.
I used to think, thanks to my incredible stupidity during my teen years that what you had to teach was useless and boring and that i'd never even bother picking up on it. Only to realize a few years later that even that rebelious attitude of mine was picked up from you. I think all kids unconciously learn things form thier parents because in most situations the only real benchmark we have to try to meet is the one set out by them.
The pushto accent i can handle, even the tough boss bit, hell i even go red when angry like you, babaji... but you set the bar way too high on how to be a father. If i'm half of everything that you were to your kids, i'd feel like a god. I don't know how you never did.

Shab-bakhair Babaji.