My Father

His hands were my first cradle, 

His comforting arms my bed, 

Together we used to play cats cradle, 

Through times of darkness, his fingers had led. 

 

I learnt to walk in his shadow, 

Lovingly addressed me, “Come here my laado!”

He indeed is the most amazing part of my life,

Because he guided me when I was naive. 

 

I never used to tell him, 

He understood by himself, 

Endlessly I used to trouble him, 

But he never asked me to mend myself. 

 

Whenever maa ran after me with a stick, 

When I was upto some mischief, 

My mother’s anger he used to seal and brick,

And told me to continue my mischief. 

 

I usually don’t express my love, 

I actually never do, 

But, today, I want him to know that like him there is no other, 

“I really miss you, my dear father!”