I love you 3000

I used to think—maybe, just maybe—I was being raised by an emotionally unavailable, inexpressive man.

But now, looking back, I see it more clearly. My dad was more present than I ever gave him credit for. In fact, he gave more of himself than he probably should have.

He worked in a city four hours away from home. Logically, practically, he had every right to stay there during the week, like I do now. But he didn’t. Instead, he chose to commute—sometimes 8, even 10 hours a day—just so he could be with us, before leaving and after coming back from work.

He rode the same bicycle every single day for over 25 years, just to save on petrol. He’d come home at night, and we’d drink Horlicks together from that yellow mug while he sang the “Apang Gopang Japang” jingle—just because I loved it so much.

I loved apples. And somehow, we never ran out. We weren’t rich—nowhere close—but I never lacked anything. I never had to ask for anything twice. If I wanted something, it magically appeared the same day.

Every morning before leaving for work, he’d make me sit on his cycle and ride those 20 steps from our door to the road. Maybe it was a ritual, maybe it was his way of wishing me good luck—but I still remember it like it was yesterday.

I was obsessed with Jhansi Ki Rani on TV. I used to reenact scenes with a stick as my sword. One day, my dad recreated an entire set just for me—just to bring my little dream to life.

Whenever I had an exam, he didn’t just drop me off. He’d wait—outside the hall, in the sun, in the cold—until I came back out.

No, he never hugged me. Never said “I love you” or “I’m proud of you.” But somehow, the whole world knew which college I got into. Everyone in the neighborhood knows where I work now, how well I’m doing. He made sure of it.

I never said it to his face, that I love him too—but maybe this silence, this respect, is our love language. Maybe he wasn’t inexpressive after all. His love was in acts of service. And all this time, I was waiting for words.

Now I understand—because more than words, efforts matter. Anyone can say nice things. But the ones who truly care? They show it. Quietly, consistently, without ever needing to say a thing.

I love you 3000.