Saturday, 4 October 2008


Under this title, I will speak about my own father, J D. K. D was raised by this noble and gentle man. He is a very patient man, speak very few words when its time to speak really lot however, his few words can somehow make a huge difference, maybe because of the experience he has. He has been more a friend and still calls me a friend, wants me to take him to disc in London and enjoy the life of early 20s again. Life doesn't have a rewind button but there is always an option to return somewhere where you feel sanitized and full of life.
I don't know why people feel that time once gone will never come back, for my father am the medium to bring back that time. He is the man who taught me to walk and was always there even when I didn't call him for help. His presence always made me feel so secure, I am a brave guy, not afraid of anything except few people. While teaching me to walk, I don't what might have gone through his mind, perhaps I will understand when its my time to. There are many phrases and poems in the love of mother. Mother on the other hand has a different class altogether and holds the highest level of respect, love and care; father seems to have been a forgotten entity now. Thought of writing this blog in the name of J. D. the man behind K. D. as his guide, mentor, support system and person who always has a very strong hand towards me when I fall and want to get up. Being mother is not easy but being a father is more difficult. Mother goes through emotional and mental but father goes through mental, emotional as well as physical stress. Morning he wakes up with a thing in mind, I have to feed my family; sacrifising his own world, he thinks of his family first and then about himself. I belong to a middle class family, few years back we went through a worst phase of the life after stock markets crashed, etc. I remember, my shoe started to make my sock stink, I demanded a pair of new shoes, my father was just back from the work, forgetting how tired he was, we both went out and brought an expensive pair of shoes of my choice. I tried the shoes again at home and then decided to throw my old shoes. I went near the show rack just to find that my shoes just stinked but that patient man wore shoes which has a rotten sole and was almost damaged enough to be said cannot-use-even-after-repair. I soon realised the financial condition of my family and felt sorry but didn't feel much. I quickly forgave myself. Few years more and I was in college, had a fight with my girl friend, was depressed, didn't eat and talk much with family members, my father came to me and said, can we talk, I was blunt in saying 'No'. I never realised this at that time. Next day, my fahter came to drop me at the college, my friends stood there in front of the gate, all nicely dressed, me too, about my father, indian chappals, trousers and shirt hanging out, not so cleanly shaven face, I felt awkward and asked him to leave with a smile. I was so dumb, hah! Slowly all the incidents come across my mind and my heart just cries out to say "dad, I am sorry". Tears roll by too. Today, am in London, thousand mile away from my father, have all the freedom, everything that can make me feel happy but still nothing brought me peace. Surely, god is there up in the sky but there is someone who is superior than god himself to me and he is my father. If there is someone who showed me about the god, then he is my father, if there is someone who showed me a path to walk on towards god then he is my father. If I neglect the medium after my purpose, life bears no meaning.
I don't know who you are, whether you are reading this post as an entertainment or as a lesson, just one request from me, never forget or neglect this best gift of god, who is gentle, kind, patient, selfless and called 'father'.

1 comment:

Ekta said...

hey keval..i felt a sense of tears in my eyes while reading this far as i am concerned about reading anyone's blog...i heartly felt this is the most touching and a factful blog...seriously no second man can become as loving father as our own.... because he is the one who always pampers his child....take care, and always keep loving your father..regards,ekta.