The Tale of a Hero.

​How do I begin? 

Where do I begin from, Dad?

Should I tell you, It all started with my coping your hair craft when I was kid, watching you comb your hair in front of the dressing table.

Or should I tell you, it all started when you took me for a drive on your bike and I pretended driving the bike with my hands on the handle bar and how you played along with the pretence. 

Or did my love for you start when you brushed the remains of ceralac off my mouth and fed me till my stomach was full and cuddled with me till I went to sleep.

I still remember, Dad, how you laughed when I didn’t know how to tie a lace and came home running to you from school, tucking the loose lace in the side gaps between the shoes and my ankle.

And I’m sorry, Dad, for sneaking out of the house early in the morning along with your bike, parking it back damaged and putting the blame on someone else. You knew how it happened, yet, you never said a word.

I’m sorry how at times, I blame you for not being rich enough to afford my needs. Little did I notice, when I was a kid, you never thought twice before buying me my favourite ice cream even when you had less money in your wallet.

I still remember, how I raised my voice against you sometimes and you said, “You grew so big!! Started back answering your father!!” Little do I remember, Dad, how big and tall I used to feel when I put my legs round your neck and watched the entire crowd below my feet while you held me up in the air.

” You’re the strongest man! ” I used to say.

Dad, remember, you picked up a good looking blazer for my high school farewell and groomed me into a stunning handsome man of the day. Did I ever tell you, my crush called me ‘Handsome’ at the end of the evening and added me on Facebook. It was all because of you. Thanks, Dad.

You are an inspiration. For all those who wanted an excuse to smoke and drink in the name of stress and tensions, you worked very hard under the same stress and pressure yet remained healthy with no such habits and passed on the belief of staying controlled even under peer pressure. I love your confidence and how you stick to the morals you believe in.

And I’m sorry, Dad, how I demanded for extra pocket money lying about books and material and how I spent your hard earned money in buying chocolates for the girl who wasn’t worthy enough.

Dad, remember? How you advised that light coloured formal shirt would go well with dark formal trousers for an interview and how you put a knot to my tie and put it around my neck.

Sorry for all the anger I showered when you consistently asked me how to open contacts on the smart phone you never learned to use. I forgot, it was your hands I first held while I learned to write the letter ‘A’.

Dad, I was fooled and deceived by DC and Marvel that Super Heros wear a costume, a mask, a cape and fancy armour. Little did I notice, you go to work in formals, wearing a smile, a sense of hope and come back home, tired yet satisfied for having done something for me and the family.

There were times I hung my head low when my friends asked what you gifted me for my birthdays!! While other fathers gifted their children costly toys, gadgets and bike, you gifted me those books and novels I hated yet read them. 

Now those books have started to make an impact, the letters and the words grew well on me like a forest with deep insight. 

From teaching me how to tie a lace to tie a tie knot, you have shown me what a beautiful soul can do. Angels don’t often fall from sky, dad, they are sometimes human with beards and strong shoulders willing to carry the burden of entire family.

You have been one such soul reflecting character, manners and a way of life. For the most handsome and lovable father, all I can do is write and speak my heart out for all the challenges you have been through and coming out successfully from the difficulties I put you through and proving once again that Heros don’t always wear costumes and capes but smile and intent to sacrifice themselves for the ones they love.

Thank you, dad. I love you.

© The Heartbroken Quill