Past returns

Past is really amazing and it returns with the same fragrance 

When I was a little child my father was meticulously nurturing me 

He was pouring on me his unstinted love, affection and caring

Once When I was going to village with my father by a bus

I was shivering in the bone chilling cold of the winter because I had no scarf 

Spontaneously my father covered my head with his muffler 

Every moment he has taken care of my emotions, my tears, my sad and my anguish

Now my father has grown old and he has lost his previous vigour

Now he is my child and he is my everything 

I can read everything from his dormant eyes

He is the precious property in my life 

I feel the past has returned to me

I have to take care of his emotions, his liking and disliking

I want to celebrate every day as his birthday with his favourite horlicks and apples.....