O Dad, how you were always there for us!!: A poem 

O Dad! I remember that day when I 

badly twisted my right wrist while playing soccer 

Mum was all panic and hysterical when she saw my 

hurt hand. My sister, Meena, rushed me to hospital. 

We didn’t even have a telephone, then, to contact you while you were at work! 

I needed surgery. Unfortunately, they did not fix it correctly! 

So, I spent a whole week writhing in pain in the aftermath, 

before I was taken back for a review, and operated on 

again. I remember I was sleepless in pain in the interim. 

The whole week you stayed awake, nights, to share my pain  

and my tears. You were always there for us. Just like that! 

Never an explanation, never a whisper extolling your sacrifice,  

never advice. Just exemplary in your silent, but reassuring, strength! 

We were hardly conscious then, how you worked so hard, 

even later when your own body was wracked with pain,  

to give us all that we needed; yet rarely purchasing anything 

for yourself, as if you, yourself, never had any aspirations. 

Yes, you did, as you wrote and directed plays and songs for theatre! 

But gave that up to take on the burden of six children, and so often  

the children of relatives! You were so generous and magnanimous! 

Never ever asking for anything in return, and even getting ingratitude  

from the same relatives that you were so forthcoming with. I think, 

I was silently ingrained with those priceless lessons from you, Dad, when I emerged 

into an adulthood that was full of pain and selfless duty. How much 

do I owe you, Dad? Can I even express it in the most descriptive words?!