13Healing the Father Wound
A few years ago, I called my parents’ home in India. As usual, my father picked up.
“Happy Father's Day, Papa.”
“You have become too Americanized, Raj. In India, every day is Father's Day.”
I wasn't surprised. He jokingly said the same thing every year, but there was always an edge to it. In India, especially in Rajput culture, every day is indeed Father's Day.
The Father Wound
At my nephew Krishna's wedding in India, the husband of one of my cousins confided in me that his adult daughter had recently told him how bad she felt because he had never hugged her. He choked up as he told me the story. I replied, “I hope you gave her a big hug after that conversation.” He seemed embarrassed and looked away. “How could I? A Rajput father can't do that.”
My heart ached for my cousin's daughter – and for her father. She had practically begged him to show her some affection, but he couldn't and wouldn't. I understood her pain. I have no memory of my father picking me up as a child or hugging me or communicating his love for me physically or verbally. That along with his absence while he was getting his education, the control and oppressive domination, and his withholding of blessings for my marriage and family made me a textbook case of a father wound. It predictably led to emotional pain, poor self‐esteem, and a profound lack of self‐acceptance.1
According to Philip Moffit, “A trauma involving the mother or father is sometimes referred to as a ‘wound’ because ...
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