Happy Father's Day, dad

 Hey,Dad!

            I’ve been thinking about you. You’re always in my thoughts, Dad, but this letter is a special Father’s Day tribute to a special dad—you.

 Thirty-five years ago, you passed away on your wedding anniversary, leaving a big hole in our hearts. Now, you have Mom to keep you company.

How I wish you had met your grandsons, Dad. You have six of them. They are all wonderful boys, shining and sparkling in their own right. One grandson shares your passion for music.

I‘ve inherited your booming voice, Dad, but not your singing voice. I croak. It doesn’t matter. I sing anyway.

You were too kind and generous for your own good, and despite being cheated, you never stopped being so.

And the Lambretta scooter… you’ve helped so many avoid the inconvenience of public transport and helped folks get to their destinations on time.

I can vividly recall the rides you gave me on that scooter—to school, college, here, there, and everywhere.

You were quite the bookworm, and yes, your efforts to turn me into a bookworm have not been in vain.

You were a simple man living in simple times—simple living, high thinking. Prayer was a priority for you, and you encouraged us to follow in your footsteps.

You were always wary of me watching Hindi films, but you made this little girl very happy when you took her to watch Haathi Mera Sathi. It was her first-ever movie in a theatre with her strict dad.

I guess most fathers are protective of their daughters, and hence, you were not quite keen on me going on a college excursion all the way to Rajasthan and needed to be convinced by other parents. Thank you for finally permitting me to go.

Ah! Boys and Mills and Boon were always on your hit list. That was a pretty irksome time, Dad, but now I can't help but chuckle when I think about those days.

 I love telling the tale of how an exasperated rickshawallah complained to you about a tearful little girl who cried all the way to school. You couldn’t take it anymore and spanked me hard and properly. I never shed a tear again on my commute to school.

 Food, too, was pretty important to you. You loved Mom's cooking, and she absolutely cooked up a storm for you. You've gifted her recipe books. 

You lived just for 59 years on this earth, and the memory of you is firmly etched in the hearts of the folk whose lives you touched by your goodness and simplicity.

 You will always remain my strong, burly, khaki-clad dad, with a song on his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

 

Missing you, Dad,

Marietta

I'm participating in the weekly Blogchatter Bloghop prompt. 

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