Weekend Musings: The Making of a Father to Daughters

When They Shape The Heart and Mind

Sometimes we are confronted with questions for which there are no ready answers. The other day my daughter asked me how it was to be a “girl’s father”. I suppose the term is in circulation, but it was new to me, and for a moment I had to understand what she was really asking. She meant how it felt to be a father of daughters, as opposed to sons.

I had no immediate answer, but I promised her I would think about it and get back.

So, in a quiet moment, I did.

Feminine influence has been dominant in my life from the very beginning. I grew up with three elder sisters, and with my father passing away before I had crossed double digits, it was women all the way. And now, with two daughters of my own, that influence continues to shape my life.

What does this translate to? First and foremost, it brings respect and a deeper understanding of their motivations, emotions, vulnerabilities, and even their apparent contradictions. What may appear illogical to others often reveals its own internal logic if you stay with it patiently. Living closely with daughters has changed something within me as well. It has made me slower to judge, more attentive to tone and unspoken cues, and aware that emotional truths are not always articulated directly.

Over time, I have learnt to accept the silent phases and the ebb and flow of moods without anxiety, recognising that beneath these fluctuations, the underlying love and respect remain constant. Moments of anger do surface, as they naturally do, but I have also come to see that they are rarely empty or careless. More often than not, they are well-meaning, even if imperfectly expressed.

I have also realised that daughters look at their father as something more than just a parent. While we may sense this instinctively, it carries a quiet responsibility—the need to live up to the image our daughters hold of us, not through authority, but through conduct.

As time moves on, the relationship itself undergoes a quiet reversal. There comes a phase when daughters begin mentoring their fathers rather than the other way around. One starts seeing oneself through their eyes—being gently corrected, advised, even improved. In many ways, daughters take up what I jokingly call the “Father Improvement Project,” often stepping into spaces their mothers have long given up on—wardrobe choices, grooming habits, and even matters of social nicety. It is both amusing and humbling, and deeply fulfilling, to realise that values once imparted now return as guidance.

But I think my daughter’s question was also more pointed. She wanted to know how it felt to be a father to girls, and how I related to that role. To answer broadly, I find myself more sensitive to their needs—both emotional and material. They express love and tenderness more openly, and it is met and returned in equal measure. There is a warmth in that exchange that comes naturally.

When it comes to relationships, I realise I exercise greater caution. While I have learnt to respect their choices, I still feel a stronger sense of responsibility about the company they keep. Perhaps that is instinct rather than reason, but it is very real.

I also think that, as a girl’s father, I am more indulgent. I allow certain liberties where I might have been stricter with boys. Somewhere at the back of the mind is the awareness that one day they will move away, into lives and homes of their own. Boys move too, of course, but their ties to the parental home often follow a different, more continuous line. With daughters, the joy of nurturing is accompanied by a quiet rehearsal for letting go.

Perhaps the strongest trait is a more protective approach. Not because they are weaker—I firmly believe that calling women the “weaker sex” is a misnomer—but because fathers seem to be wired that way. The instinct to protect daughters feels primal, almost involuntary.

Humour, therefore, becomes a necessary companion.

I sometimes tease them that if I had sons, they would have done all the Man Friday jobs—lifting heavy bags, fixing things, running errands. They promptly remind me that boys would demand bikes, go on expensive dates, neglect their studies, and so on. The score, I admit, is usually settled there.

On a more everyday level, this journey also brings unexpected exposure to an entire universe of lotions, face creams, scrubs, shampoos, and body washes. It is quite a shift from a time when one bar of Cinthol seemed sufficient for all possible needs. These small domestic transformations, amusing as they are, quietly signal how much the household—and the father within it—has changed.

Another thing this journey has taught me is patience. I have never quite understood why it takes so much time to get ready, especially when we are going out as a family. I once thought it was just my wife, but the daughters have surpassed her. I suppose they are at an age where they are acutely conscious of how they look—and perhaps of how the world looks back at them.

I sometimes feel that fathers with only daughters treat their wives better. There are natural checks in place. As daughters grow up, any perceived injustice towards their mother is immediately noticed and called out. You cannot get away with much—after all, they are the majority.

I am sure there are many fathers here who have only daughters. Some of you may recognise yourselves in these reflections, others may not. But I suspect there will be one quiet point of agreement—that raising daughters is not merely a role we perform, but a privilege that reshapes us in ways we do not fully recognise while it is happening. And for that, we remain deeply grateful.

You may also want to read my piece on:  Saturday Art: "The Bangle Sellers", Poem By Sarojini Naidu, 1912

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