It was a laid-back Sunday afternoon. My father was outdoors, dyeing his hair and cleansing the backyard like at all times. Inside, my mum labored her magic within the kitchen, filling the home with the comforting aroma of her Bihari hen curry. And proper on cue, we might all collect across the TV for the weekly Doordarshan film premiere, a practice that solely occurred throughout Sunday lunch as a result of faculties had been shut. That day, the movie was Aandhi, a 1975 romantic drama starring Sanjeev Kumar and Suchitra Sen. I nonetheless bear in mind the second when JK, Kumar’s character, silently drops his ex-wife Aarti, Sen’s character, to the helicopter that takes her away, as a result of that’s once I observed my father’s eyes welling up. It wasn’t the primary time I noticed him cry, the primary was when my grandfather died. I used to be solely three, and my solely reminiscence from that day is of my father, inconsolable and nearly child-like in grief.
Again then, I believed that crying was an indication of weak spot. Nobody corrected me. By then, my dad and mom had settled into their rhythm of parenting. They knew the drill, and there wasn’t a lot left to elucidate. I figured issues out alone, selecting up beliefs and stitching collectively ideologies by watching the individuals round me. And a type of beliefs was this: I’d by no means turn out to be my father. He was not a foul or weak man, however I used to be afraid of inheriting the components of him I didn’t perceive or like.
But, reduce to 2025, and there I used to be, watching When Life Provides You Tangerines at 2 am, tears streaming down with each episode. And in that quiet, emotional unraveling, it hit me: I had turn out to be my father. Regardless of all of the resistance and guarantees I made to myself, I’m him.
However as we get older, life softens that resistance. Now, I discover myself repeating my father’s gestures, utilizing his sayings, and typically, even approaching issues with the identical anxiousness or cussed pleasure. It’s not that I’ve given up on being our personal individual, it’s that I’ve begun to know the place he’s coming from, and realise his methods had been formed by concern, love, and hope, identical to mine.
Once I began watching the present, I wasn’t anticipating a “bittersweet” Korean collection to really feel so private. The present is light, slow-paced, and easy, a narrative about household, reminiscence, and the unusual, usually bittersweet symmetry between generations. However as I watched, one thing shifted in me. Scene after scene, character after character, I began seeing somebody acquainted mirrored in me: My father. After which, unsettlingly, myself.
As a baby, and later as an adolescent, I grew to become hyper-aware of the traits that made his life difficult. His mood that flared over small issues, his incapacity to articulate an apology when he was incorrect, his behavior of pushing via stress whereas ignoring his well being, and his refusal to decelerate. He carried the burden for all the things, not silently, however out loud, in arguments, in sharp ripostes, in anxious silences. I informed myself I’d be totally different. I needed to be. However I’m no totally different.
Much like how Gem Yong within the present tries to not be her father. She, deep down, related his quietness and self-sacrifice with emotional distance. Rising up, she noticed Gwan Shik as somebody who gave a lot of himself however by no means actually requested for something.
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She didn’t need to reside a life the place she continually put others first and misplaced her personal voice within the course of. So she pushed in opposition to that a part of herself, attempting to be extra unbiased, extra vocal, possibly even somewhat rebellious, something to keep away from feeling caught or unseen like she thought her father was. However, in attempting to not be him, she nonetheless carried a lot of him inside her. The power, the loyalty, they had been in her, too.
As an adolescent, I used to hate it when my father insisted we spend each summer time vacation at my nani’s place as a substitute of occurring a correct household trip. His purpose? “You received’t be capable to end your vacation homework if we go touring.” It pissed off me to no finish. I swore I’d by no means do this to my very own children at some point. I imagined a future stuffed with spontaneous journeys and 0 homework speak. However now, once I get the prospect to mom my nephews, one thing stunning occurs. In these small moments—reminding them to complete their work earlier than enjoying, or saying “possibly subsequent time” to a enjoyable plan—I hear my father in my very own voice. I take advantage of the identical reasoning, the identical tone, and I catch myself mid-sentence. And in that pause, I realise precisely the place it’s coming from, from a spot of care and quiet love.
I spent a big a part of my adolescence and early maturity attempting to distance myself from him, not emotionally, however behaviourally. I wished to be calm, open to criticism, capable of snort at my flaws, unbothered by the messiness of life. I promised myself I’d by no means yell, I’d by no means put work earlier than well-being, and most of all, I’d by no means be susceptible however I grew to become oversensitive with time.
Maturity has a means of humbling you. Slowly, quietly, it makes you look into mirrors you’ve been avoiding. When Life Provides You Tangerines grew to become one such mirror. The present doesn’t dramatise household rigidity; it whispers it. It exhibits how love will be cussed and imperfect and the way, with out realising it, we turn out to be the very individuals we swore we’d by no means be. Someplace in these scenes, the quiet resentment of an grownup baby, the misplaced affection of a well-meaning guardian, I noticed my very own life panning out.
I’m my father.