happy father's day dad!!

Hi ! What a perfect occassion to start my new blog page. It's Father's Day today and I dedicate this to him. Silly gift- you're thinking. But dad will love to see that his daughter is at least trying to write something. Well let me tell you here, I owe my love for literature and art to him- infact I've inherited this ingenuity from him. He is the one who introduced me to poems and stories at a young age and I actually wrote my first poem in my 4th standard. It was like this: we were on papa's deptt picnic in Galengpo,a place in Bhutan. And there was this beautiful stream with gushing water that was music to one's ears. I hadn't any friends, so I sat on a big rock by the stream, and just soaked into its beauty. Papa then came to me and said, "It's a beautiful place..do you like it?" and I said "yes". "Why don't you write a poem on it?" he suggested."..maybe on the hanging bridge?" I looked up at the bridge. I had never seen a hanging bridge before- it was scary as well as exciting and it swayed at the slightest provocation. My over-active imagination set into play and i even imagined the bridge giving way under our bus and my papa was the unrivalled hero who saved all of us...but well, even though i dont remember, this wasn't what i wrote in the poem for sure :) .Whatever, dad still has the original copy of the poem that I composed later at home.

My sis and I are hardly two years apart from each other and we are almost like twins. During winter evenings papa used to sit cross-legged on his favourite cane chair and we used to clamour for a little room each under his eri shawl, and we'd listen to his wild and brave and boyish exploits with wide eyed wonder. Maybe that's why I still have this 'my daddy strongest' syndrome. At bed, me and my sis would get into a fight over which side papa would face, and he used to face towards the ceilling in order to appease both of us. Those winter evening scenes have stayed on forever in my memory, and at times I yearn to spin back time, become a kid again and sneak into his shawl. Looking back, I feel we have had the best childhood one can possibly ask for,with dad.

Besides story telling, there was this going out for morning walks with dad, feeding sparrows every morn, accompanying him to market and to his colleagues' place, working together for our school project works, gardening and carpentry and so many things!! One thing that I find amusing now is, whenever dad used to go out of station, I used to make files with old science practical copy covers, make two holes with the punching machine, and tie loose sheets which contained algebra, by-hearted multiplication and additional tables, some english, hindi, s.st , science, drawing, and anything that would make him happy when he returns. And on the presumed date and time of his return, I used to stand with my blue covered file on the road and strain my eyes looking for him...

Thanks papa, for such a wonderful life. Thanks for letting me enjoy a carefree childhood, for sparing the rod (except for twice), for the story-telling sessions, for my b'day frocks every year, for my first wrist-watch, for my first bicycle... Thanks for appreciating and encouraging me throughout and teaching what self discipline means...Sorry for some of my report cards and whatever complaints you had to bear during PTAs...And sorry for not being able to follow any timetable that i charted...I later found out that I am not a time-table person at all. But I learnt to be well organised and disciplined with myself. Hope that gladdens you... and I promise never to let the ink in my pen dry...That's a promise. Love you papa. And happy father's day.