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A Letter to My Father, With Love and Loads of Respect

Vivek Bazaz       |   2014-04-05 04:35:31   |   Thoughts   |   Article   |   Posted By: Invade Cafe

There is a well heard word that, mother is the generator of all the love in this world. So true! Motherly love!, motherly feeling, motherly affection, each and every thing in our society may it me the language, the behavior or the criteria of people makes us believe in the quality of a mother to love, to generate life into a young one who is aloof of the worldly notions. But have you ever given a thought about why all these things are not associated with a father, although he is also equally credited to make you who you are, or for that matter to bring you on this earth? Why is it like, a father is not that loving? Or for the sake of reality, why is he so inexpressive of the love that has its roots deep in his hard walled heart. Perhaps I found an answer to this!

The day God handed me over to my Mother’s womb, all the Love in my mother was directed to serve me like a Prince. Her eyes wanted to see me, her hands wanted to touch me, her breath wanted to feel me, her eyes doomed in loneliness when I was in dark. I believe every mother feels the same for her child whether he is an achiever or a looser, whether he is ugly or beautiful.

The director of my life is that all mighty but it is my father who has edited my life so cautiously and skillfully that I can say the movie of my life is gona be a Super Hit. HOW? WHY? There is a journey behind the answers, perhaps one that I understood on the right time.

Never felt love in his touch, never was the warmth in his words for me but deep down inside my heart, there was a query, why does he do so? Am I that bad? Or is he like that only?

I remember an incident which is still embarked on the wood of my past. It was the day , my result was to be announced. Somehow the time came and an announcement was made to reach the hall where the result was to be announced. With no fear and eagerness I sat on a wooden bench alone. The principal started giving his boring speech and like a deaf no word was disturbing the curtains of my ears. I was staring at the whole crowd trying to find a glimpse of MAA. Every child was with his parent so, I was a bit scared now not because I was alone but the fear that principal will beat me if he finds that my parents had not attended the result( childhood idiotic innocence). It was a regular result scene, people getting nervous and all that stuff, a blur image tat I can recalculate as I was just 5 or 6 years that time. First name was announced and from a complete silence my name penetrated my ears like a drum beating at its highest decibel. I was aghast and stuck, it was my name! I could not gather the strength to stand up a receive my medallion. Then my teacher forced me to the podium and I received a 10mm thick , gold painted medal. I was on cloud 9 not because that I had had stood Ist in my class but because I had got a medal same like the cricketers when they win a game.

I was happy, showed that gold rim to my mother, she hugged me so tight that I could feel here heartbeats and that love came out of her eyes. I was very excited and just wanted to show the medal to my father, I just wanted him to know that I had something in me, that “dad, your son is an achiever”, and dad! I want you to be happy. The door bell rang, I knew it was my father, I ran to the door and took my father to the room where I had hanged that gold medal. I thought there will be a smile on his face that will fill my heart with happiness but just a word “GOOD” from his mouth and nothing else. I was nothing but a man whose everything was snatched from him. I was really annoyed with my father. As I was a child and not getting his wishes fulfilled I had developed a never diminishing gap between me and my father.

Time passed like seasons and a new phase of my life was going to begin and care freeness had just won the fort of my life. The new and enjoying moments were stopped soon as my exams approached me for the first time after I had left home and shifted to a metropolitan. Battle had started again and I was going through my papers. Results out, and it could not have been worst than this, 3 baklogs. For a student who has been standing amongst the rank holders for the past 15 years, it was a shock to call home and say, “ dad, your son is a failure”.

The phone rang, “hello”! And I had a failure story to tell. “dad I was not able to pass”, I went speechless with sorrow resisting my soundbox. To my surprize the voice said “ its okay beta, try hard”.
Anyways, I re-cultivated my confidence and by God’s grace I cleared my graduation with a distinction. And today as I think about what triggered me to achieve this is a shocking figure. What if when I stood first in my class at the age of 5, my dad would have said, “ you did amazing, you are a fantastic child, extraordinary”. Maybe the feeling of doing better would have died, maybe I would have never strived so hard to do better and better out of revenge. The feeling that the single word “good” bestowed in me is just Irreplaceable. The feeling of fighting till i listen great.

I now understand ,he was not a jailer but the master of a chariot and I was his son sitting behind him, he was showing me the right path by destroying all the obstacles in my path, facing and wounding himself so that I can live my future with utter surety. It was not the concern of the money spent on me but a curtain behind which he was concerned about me and he whipped in the dark when I was hurt. I now realize he was the one in me who handed over me that brush of courage to tackle any situation.

He never showed me that soft corner of his heart, where unknowingly I was the prince. People say noble deeds are the way to heaven and I say my heaven is with me and every day I want to prosper in its shade.

I Love you “Daddy”.


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Thoughts, Father-Son Love, Family
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