I walked into your life, out of the blue, and put an end to your hopes of choosing a conventionally ?suitable? girl for your only son. Yet, you opened your arms wide to me, welcomed my difference and showered me with love. That is how open-minded you were.

You never once interfered with the way I lead my life, the name I chose to call God by or the values your son and I wanted to inculcate in our children. That is how respectful you were.

Spiritual you were and you practised your religion discrectly without ever insinuating it was better than any other or allowing it to interfere with the friendships you have formed over the years. That is how tolerant you were.

You opened your home to me and invited me to sit in your dining room, at your ten-seat dining table, between your daughter and your son-in-law.

?I have no daughter-in-law and no son-in-law. I have four children,? you said to me. And you treated us like your own, if not better. That is how fair you were.

You pointed to the other side of the table where my two nieces were sitting and half jokingly said, ?there are two empty seats on this side.?

?I will fill them in for you, papa,? I replied. And you watched helplessly as my second daughter filled in the last seat, putting an end to your hope of having a male heir. Yet, you loved all your granddaughters as much as a human being is capable of loving another. That is how great you were.

You loved us all equally but we all knew you had a soft spot for me. Some routines settled in with the years and most Sundays were the same. You waited for us in the TV room and we walked in, one by one. Everyone else headed for the kitchen where Maman was preparing the snacks. You always stayed behind and I stayed with you and listened to you telling me about the latest news, the latest Hindi movie you have watched or the newspaper articles you thought I might be interested to read. The last articles you kept for me were the eulogies to Sir Satcam Boolel. I will not have a second chance to ask you why.

Then we headed for the kitchen where your seat and mine were empty, one next to the other, and where your whisky had been served by your son-in-law. I pulled the steamed and grilled foods towards you and pushed away the fries. Your fragile stomach was grateful for it. After the ?gajaks?, we all took our seats in the dining room where you presided over the greatest array of dishes ever seen on a single table.

Around your table, we experienced the greatest moments of joy, happiness and companionship. Around your table I have been comforted in what I have been brought up to believe in: the importance of a closely-knit family. Around your table, there was no censorship. We talked about our happiest moments as well as our worries. We thrashed out our problems in your presence and while to everyone you may have been a judge, to me you were always my competent lawyer. Do you remember when your son accused you of always taking my side? Your defence was the greatest proof of your guilt, ?si li en a raison, mo pa capav fer narien?.

I was not always right, papa, but you were always right in standing by me.

Behind your back, we joked about your immaculately polished Bally shoes and your custom-tailored suits which came all the way from your tailor in Hong Kong. We teased you at times, but we secretly admired your style and your grace; a king-maker and a king yourself, you definitely lived like one and you died like one, proud, uncompromising, unyielding; While we were physically and psychologically ready to welcome you back home in a state we had resigned ourselves to accept, you refused to depend on any of us, and your prayers must have had more weight than ours?

We hope that you have found the peace which had left you these last few weeks. Fare thee well, papa. We have all lost the backbone of our family. I have also lost a loyal friend.

Touria PRAYAG