PERMISSION TO DATE YOUR DAUGHTER

Mama, before you roll your eyes or reach for a stick, let me just say—I come in peace. I know this conversation might sound like something out of an old Tamil movie, but I genuinely wanted to do this the right way. I'm not here to deliver dialogues or impress you with flowery words. I just want to be honest, because your daughter means a lot to me.

Now I understand, mama, you’ve been her first superhero. You’ve seen her take her first steps, wipe her tears, fix her math problems (or maybe not), and protect her from every little danger—even if it was just a mosquito. So when a guy like me shows up asking to take her out for dinner or a walk under the stars, I get that your protective radar immediately starts blinking.

But here’s the deal: I’m not here to waste her time or yours. I don’t have any hidden agenda or a pocket full of cheesy lines (okay, maybe just one or two). I just think your daughter is amazing—she’s smart, funny, kind, and way out of my league. But for some reason, she still chooses to laugh at my jokes and talk to me. And that’s something I take seriously. I want to be the kind of guy who makes her smile when she’s tired and stands by her when life gets messy.

I’m not perfect—my hair doesn’t always behave, I still forget OTPs, and I sometimes mess up my dosa flip. But when it comes to her, I’ll never mess around. I’ll respect her, support her dreams, and most importantly, make sure she’s safe and happy. And no, mama, I won’t keep her out too late—unless she’s beating me at carrom and refuses to let the match end.

I know you might be thinking, "Why is this fellow being so dramatic?" But mama, love is a bit dramatic, isn’t it? It’s in the little things—like texting her good morning before you even brush your teeth, or remembering how she likes her coffee (extra sugar, no drama). It’s not about grand gestures, it’s about consistently showing up and being someone she can count on.

So here I am, standing before you—not just because I’m nervous, but because I respect you. I want to do things right. I want your blessing, your smile, and maybe one day, a “good job da” from you. All I ask is a chance. A chance to take your daughter on honest dates, to grow with her, and to make her laugh just like you probably did when she was little. Thank you for hearing me out, mama. I promise—no funny business, just a funny guy who’s seriously in love with your seriously awesome daughter.