If you are a man, this is for you !!

In the tapestry of human relationships, a father-son relationship is an intricately worked-out web of expectations, mute sacrifices, and unvoiced affections. Where mothers are celebrated as the very embodiment of selfless love, fathers often remain in the background, efforts minimised or misunderstood. This is not just familial obliviousness but a symptom of deep-seated cultural, psychic, and social customs that have taken generations to manifest in our minds. These deep-seated cultural mores have roots that stretch back through centuries, influencing the roles and expectations placed upon fathers.

For example, in the Indian tradition, through the ages, the four Ashrams of life—brahmacharya, or student life; grihastha, householder; vanaprastha, retirement; and sannyasa, renunciation—are essentially paths mapped out for men. Demanding rigors of discipline, self-sacrifice, and dedication to societal and familial duties often precluded overt emotional expression in these stages. If fathers seem less emotionally available, it's partly because they operate under the weight of these longstanding expectations. These age-old expectations have evolved but still manifest in modern times, where the father is predominantly seen as the provider. They are considered the bedrock of financial stability, the ones who keep up with the material needs of the family. However, this role, important as it is, often overshadows them into just being mere instruments—a sort of an ATM machine that dispensed currency on request. Yet, this observation misses the deep levels of emotional and psychological security a father imparts simply by the fact of his existence. The presence of a father may foster a feeling of safety and security, a mute promise that no matter what storms rage outside, there is an anchor right in the house.

Understanding one's father is often a belated journey; sometimes it takes place rather too late, if not when he is no longer there. Realizing it often means that the silent sacrifices are acknowledged and the weight of love unspoken far too late; this is because open communication hasn't allowed it to take place earlier. Besides, societal standards discourage emotions among men to such an extent that fathers are molded in the expectation of stoicism and strength, which makes their vulnerabilities suppressed. So they bear their burdens silently.

This dynamic is put succinctly by Jacques Lacan, the French psychoanalyst; he says that three fathers exist simultaneously into one: symbolic, imaginary, and real. The symbolic father, with the slightest of his actions, silently enforces rules and disciplines, such as waking up early and living up to moral and ethical standards, invisible yet influencing our lives at a far deeper level. Then, there's an imaginary father—the ideal of him that we have in our mind, a superhero who would overcome any obstacle. And then there is the real father, a fallible, limited human with all the glitches that we fail to admit. The transition often jars when sons move from the imaginary to the real—that their fathers are not invincible but vulnerable people. This could give us a better sense of appreciation, for as we get to regard them as an authority, we also tend to see them now as fellow travelers who equally have ups and downs in their own lives.

Whereas societal celebrations and media representations more often than not hail motherhood, thereby leaving fatherhood to bask in a reflected glow, there is also the psychological minefield that is seldom acknowledged. As Fathers are very often burdened by Couvade syndrome, or sympathetic pregnancy, where they generate symptoms similar to their pregnant partners' conditions. This underlines a deep emotional bond and empathy that society seldom—if ever—allows for in men. But such experiences remain unspoken, furthering the narrative of fathers being disinterested, unemotional, and serious. 

Understanding could also be impeded by generational and communication gaps between fathers and sons. The rapid changes in society, technological advancement, and the tide of shifting cultural values create chasms that are barely crossed. Fathers may struggle to understand the world view of their sons, thereby leading to misunderstandings and concluding on the lack of support thereof. Sons plunged into the throat of modernity may see their fathers as outdated, unable to appreciate the wisdom stemming from lived experience.

Unbeknownst to them, the father often encourages a pattern of emotional distancing, teasing his sons and being hard on them as a means of making them tough, yet not exerting such hard love on his girls. This tends to strain the relationship between the father and son, sometimes producing feelings of inadequacy or bitterness. This expectation of sons is further explained in the biblical story of how God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac and not his daughter. 

However, at times, fathers also deviate from this expectation and mirror the depth of their concern in manners absolutely unexpected. A great example is that once, a young boy confessed to his father of stealing something. The man, instead of flogging the not-so-young child, replied with silent sadness—an expression of disappointment weighted deep. This rare reaction of a father, free from anger, instilled a sense of moral clarity in the boy. And with this moral compass, the boy was able to guide millions out of slavery to become the father of a nation.  

The silent sacrifices of fathers are many: suppression of one's dreams, pressures of providing not only for the immediate family but at times extended relatives, while contending with societal expectations that have little room for vulnerability. This can be isolating, and yet the fathers seldom voice their struggles, adhering to the stoic ideal. Therefore, the least we can do for our father, if we are lucky to have him with us, is behave.