My Loving Father

Parenthood cannot be adequately defined in the absence of a loving father.

My father was a self-made man. He hailed from a respectable family of moderate means.

At a young age, he shifted from a small place to the City to make a fortune.

He was kind and articulate; genuine and graceful. He could establish contacts with leading families in the city which helped him in shaping his life. Achieved a fair degree of success.

He was a man of action. A real karma-yogi. A very hard-working man who knew little rest.

More than all that, he was an extraordinarily loving father. He would keep the family closely knit with a blend of firmness and love. His firmness was devoid of harshness, certainly mingled with sweetness.

He loved us a lot, and with all his heart.

He was greatly influenced by the ideals of Montessori. He had absorbed those ideals into his heart. He would put them to practice in life. He would treat a child in such a way that even a mother would turn pale before him!

He would speak to us in a soft tone. Never would he use harsh words. Never would he hurt our self-respect.

We would eagerly await his return in the evening.

Everyday, his bag would have something for us. No, it was not branded chocolates or fried chips or wafers. It could be some fresh, seasonal fruits or peanuts, or may be sweetmeat.

Whatever he would bring, we would share among us - among the little brothers and other family members.

He would happily watch us enjoying ourselves. There would be a sparkle in his eyes. A smile would adore his "fatherly" face.

A short spell of happy moments of togetherness.

Long enough to energize us for a wait till the next evening.

Those moments have mingled into past. He also left us for his eternal journey.

But the memories have not faded.

I bow to you, father!