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A heartfelt ode to her father by the author, the one person who stood by her and was her rock of confidence, when she had a daughter.
On that quiet night, in the corridors of that quaint nursing Home,
When kith and kin exchanged curious glances,
On that quiet night, when the nurse proclaimed in a rather studied tone of
mirth, “It’s a girl”.
When it seemed, everyone awaited a different announcement,
It was your laughter that reverberated in the disinfected corridors.
It was you, who grinned so much so that a tiny tear trickled down your cheek.
When the neighbourhood aunty grumbled that the little girl of yours
is wild like a horse,
When she in her hushed tones admonished the girl for playing
hide and seek as late as the boys,
It was you whose irate glance made her stop abruptly.
And when the teenager looked at you teary eyed,
It was you, who took her face in your strong masculine hands
and taught her about Equality.
When the girl grew up to be this strong opinionated visage of you,
It was you who did not think twice, sending her to that Art Institute.
You gave her wings to fly and transported her to a place,
where you could listen to your heart.
As time flew on its ‘winged chariot’, she touched the prime of her youth.
You meandered towards the ripeness of your years.
“Matrimony beckons you”, she heard from all quarters.
But you were frail.
Those fingers of yours which once held her firm,
were now withered and numb.
I will always keep you by my side,
like a shadow, never skipping one’s stride.
Let them make remarks snide,
I will not be bogged down,
As you are not just my father, but my essence and my Pride.
Image source: pixabay
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