Every so often I used to ask my dad, “Why do you wait for me? Why can’t you just go off to sleep?” the few times I touched home later than my usual time. He wouldn’t utter a word. Only he could feel a dad’s fear with a growing up daughter in the big bad city of Bombay. So, he’d waited for me that day too – for the final goodbye after his daughter came home safe. He had smiled and waved, while quickly pretending to go off to sleep. I walked up to his bed and smiled at him, checking if had been running a temperature; little knowing that this was our last piece of conversation. And, a little while later, he was gone; the god of death had sent his agents right after our smile exchange!
And then, I realised why he always waited for me, and also why I feel he is always there for me.
Here’s a little musical poem dedicated for him, on this Father’s Day: