Like an angel, He held my hand, protecting me in the crowded fair. Waiting long in the queues, he bought sugar candy and balloon for me. He saved me from my mom’s wrath when I broke our first camera the day it was purchased.
He played with me, hours long in the hot summer day, to make me star cricketer. He taught me how to solve fraction sums without scolding me even once. He burnt spoons of my mom’s favorite dinner set while teaching me science – how carbon was formed from carbonic.
I sneezed and coughed. He worried. He cancelled his important business trip in middle.
He showed me the life he wished me to live. He scolded, even threatened to throw me out of our house, when I decided not to frame the life he had portrayed for me. Later he supported me to knit my own dream. I moved. He stayed. He stayed as ever as he had done to be the best father. But I did not look back. I progressed. I forgot his birthday but never did he.
He fell sick. I thought it to be normal for his old age. He understood and justified my absence.
The day came when he left, waiting for me, looking at the mildew stained photograph of a son holding balloon in one hand and his father’s finger in other.
Today he was far… too far. But I felt him – very near to me, in my heart. I found him very close to me as I hugged my child when she woke me up and said,
“Happy Father’s Day, Dad!”
[Your Story Club wishes you “Happy Father’s Day”]