Today on this father day, I am writing about my father. My father died in very early age when I was fifteen years old, still in high school. First thing I know about my father is his passion of books, I do remember a particular incidence when we were returning from Agra and I might be seven or eight years old, I looked a book on the railway stall, the book was an imported title and to buy it could succumb our travelling budget. Father bought it for me and I still feel a satisfaction on his face when I took the book.
He never compromised with the education, and was very strict about our performance in school, I remember he never let us take leave from school, he always lacked money but never let us realized this, I knew he loved both me and my sister very much but never showed it off.
Another particular incidence I remember when he was critically ill, and one day when we were going to AIIMS for a check-up, those were the days we did not have the car, so after leaving the bus when we were crossing the road at a busy ring road crossing, he hold my hand tight, I had never experienced such firmness on my hand of him, he said – These are the bad days and we must be extra careful in our every activities, who knows someone could hit us so we need to be very careful. Now almost fifteen years later whenever I cross that crossing I feel my father"s tight holding of my hand and feel that he is still with us guiding in taking all the important decisions.
I realised how important father is in child’s life, when I lost my father and when myself became a father. My three year old daughter sitting next to me looking at me typing these words on my Laptop, may be guessing something that I am writing about her. I love you beta………………..
