As a child, calling you “Daddy” was something I did naturally. As an adult, calling you “Daddy” is something I do with pride. Daddy…. yes my daddy…. Mr Sat Pal Arora is not with us anymore. No pain, no suffering not even a complaint. He went like a man in hurry to reach somewhere important, somewhere fast. A brutal bolt of heart attack took him away from all of us in a matter of seconds. No last words, no good-byes. Why did you do that dad..? Why didn’t you even speak to me for the one last time..?

But, I know you are here, somewhere around, with us… listening to me, watching all this, probably scrutinizing each and every word. I say this because you shared with me the fact that you wanted to visit Toronto for the one last time… to be with your most loved son JR, Nina and Richha… so you ought to be here… somewhere. You also wanted to go back once again to your ancestral house in Lahore… these were some of the things you wanted to do and enjoy. And… now that you are listening dad… trust me I did my best to fulfill both.

Daddy kept good health through his life and his favourite response was “I am fit and fine”. He was a jovial person – cutting jokes and often using traditional Indian phrases to lighten the mood of a conversation. It certainly wasn’t that he talked a lot – he didn’t. He spent most of his life aloof, by himself. I say that because he was always busy — reading, writing, making notes, writing letters, cutting and saving interesting and informative bits from newspapers and I don’t remember him ever taking sitting idle. He was always at some thing or the other, all by himself. A kind of a lonely life.

There is one pain he carried through his life…. not having anyone from his paternal side… whom he could call HIS family. A lonely life wherein he missed his parent – both of whom he lost even before he was three. Brought up by his only older sister he never had a happy childhood. Partition of the country and the resulting carnage and riots further uprooting him from his home in Lahore at the age of 11. With no other brother or sister – not even distant cousins – he drifted… not even completing school education. He tried his hands at small business initially… but finally found his moorings with a well known Indian company.

Dad loved the finer things of life and was always inclined to accumulate information and knowledge. He enjoyed travel, photography, eating out, making friends and the most keeping in touch with anyone he knew even remotely. Being a Lahori he was a kind of “foodie” too – specially enjoying sweets. There are so many memories I have of daddy. Specially from my childhood to college days.

In the early 1950’s when families around us were barely earning enough to survive he acquired his first camera – a Kodak Box. I cherish his 2B size black and white photos of the years gone by neatly catalogued in numerous photo albums. That camera still is the pride possession of the family which even my daughter Chandni enjoys.

Sometime in early 60’s he bought a two-wheel scooter, thinking he will be able to replace his bicycle that he used to pedal everyday to work some 12kms from our house. Alas, he couldn’t. One late evening driving back from work, he picked me up from his sisters’ house – while passing through a dark unlit stretch of the road, we were hit by a speeding Rickshaw… and that was his last he drove…. selling it the very next week, happy and content with his Perryson bicycle. Daddy was never comfortable with machines, or anything that involved mechanics and electronics. That is the reason he never got down to use the computer despite the fact that it adorned his work table. He never bought a car, though loved the ride.

His knack for participating in Contests, Competitions and Lucky Draws won him name and many a goodies. In the early 1970 for a particular contest he sent in the maximum number of individual entries from entire north-India and won a Television set and round-trip tickets for a couple to Nepal. For our sake he surrendered the luxury of the trip and encahsed the tickets to invest money in buying a house for all of us. Ours was the only house-hold in miles which had a Television set those days.

As children we were lucky that he gave us some of the most memorable holidays, specially in the hills. Our regular sojourns to Mussorie, Nainital and Kashmir were something we looked forward to besides numerous picnics and local outings.

Daddy’s obsession with information and connecting with people would probably put him in book of records. He subscribed to some 20 newspapers everyday and over 50 magazines on all possible subjects. He was an amazing letter writer, sending out an average of 40 to 50 letters everyday, without fail. He spent most of his savings on just this one single love of his. Going through his papers I find responses from political leaders of the world, businessmen, social activists and film personalities. Another quality that Daddy had – and a lot of us don’t – was his flair for keeping records and notes. He meticulously recorded daily events in his Diaries. At the time of his death he was maintaining EIGHT concurrent diaries and all up to date till the last evening of his life… Not one line space left to write any more.

Everyone liked him. He didn’t have any enemies. People were drawn to him. I guess it was his personality. Daddy had innumerable friends in all parts of India and many overseas. He was politically inclined and took active part in social and political activities on grassroot level. His heart went out to the Labour Movement in our country. He was a dedicated Trade Unionist and worked for the welfare of working class all through his life. His struggles against the capitalist class at times landed him in some uncomfortable situations too… but he for one never gave up on his principles or Rights for the Working Class.

Daddy was a God fearing man of spiritual inclinations. His religious beliefs were more reinforced by our mom, but never stepping in to the realm of irrational rituals. He believed in a secular space for all religions and respected every other faith. To him lending a helping hand was more important than prayers or visiting temples. He instituted “IMC Trust” to help women and children in distress and to promote the need for good education for every child. He regularly contributed his small bits to any individual or organization that approached him for assistance. Even in his death… he wished and willed to donate his entire body for the benefit of the others. Sorry daddy, we couldn’t do that… but your eyes would have surely lit up another life bringing colour and happiness to someone. The Eye Bank has just sent the Thank You Certificate in your name… So you live daddy, amongst us… somewhere…

Daddy, I want you to know, that whatever I do, wherever I go there is one thing I will never outgrow, and that is my love for you! In our eyes you hung the moon, you gave us the best you could… the education, the knowledge, the path to doing good. I love you daddy and miss you even more.

There is no doubt in my heart where daddy is today. On 29th July 2008 the Heavens needed an Angel – and out of all the people in the world, they chose the very best – my Daddy!

Daddy was one of a kind! He lived 72 glorious years and I am so proud to have been able to call him daddy and spend with him some part of those 72 years. He wrote in one of his diaries, “death on this earth, is not the end but just the beginning.” His memory and his love lives on through each one of us here today. I know one day I will see him again, so for now daddy, “Take Care… Till We Meet Again”.

I love you Daddy!!!