I don't know how to start this post. Going through a Facebook post about Father's Day, I really got emotional and thought that I would just write my heart out. Well, I am really clueless how to go about this.
Ok, to start off, let me share a small story.
It was a science class where there needed to be a lot of diagrams and the homework only meant making those horrifying diagrams in the most beautiful manner. That kid would always have the best diagrams made. His classmates used to tease him saying that those diagrams being the best do not hold much relevance as they aren't made by him but his father, which as a matter of fact were all true. On repeated poking like such, the child gave in one day. He got back home and cried endlessly. On being inquired by his father he narrated the entire incident.
His father then took out a register and then took up a very complicated diagram. He asked the child to come up and the illustrated a step-by-step procedure of drawing the complex stuff. The child was amazed at the simplicity with which the entire thing was being played in front of him by his father. He did what was best possible, followed his Dad. SUCCESS it was!
Yes, the kid was me and the 'hero' was my Dad. I was happy and he was happier.
I can recall my Dad once saying to my Mom after reading an essay of mine, "He writes well."
I have not forgotten those words Papa, and see here I am owning a blog, penning down for online newspapers, having scripted more than 100 articles, getting featured at places. This is the kind of impact your words and your silence have on me. I still remember the only few times you have cried in front of me. Without going into details, I would only say that those were the most helpless and the most painful moments of my life.
I still remember those days when you would run hours behind me so that I learn how to ride a bicycle. You played cricket with me and bhai when we felt that there isn't much company to enjoy with. I can recall those broken tube lights, deshaped fan blades, shattered wall clocks, but I can't recall the scoldings, I can only recall the next-time-careful suggestions. That's the kind of person you've always been, spending heartily on your family and always being pivotal in my learning through the passage of life.
I really have no idea how you have managed to be such an ideal parent. Never saying no to any of my wishes and yet making sure that I do not fall into bad habits. Never stopping me from taking the odd risk in life and yet assuring that I never am on the wrong side of the things. And I also know that you have been a great great son. I can say that when I look at your wallet which holds a photograph of your parents. You are really my idol Papa, you are my Hero...
