Something I Look At-118

The word that touches me hard

And closest to my heart is my father.

The word that is music to my ear, 

The divine Onkar is my father.

The word that runs in each drop of my blood, the word my tongue so eager to utter 

Is my father 

The man, my whole being die to visualize,

The voice of whom my ears avid to listen 

Is none else but my father.

The man who is larger than life, 

The picture of confidence, 

The epitome of love and sacrifice is my father

The man who has done no wrong, 

Whose very presence inspires confidence

 Is my father.

The teacher who loved his students more than his kids and for whom his students are his sons by culture is my father.

I was his son by birth,

 But he never told me whether 

I could become his son by culture.

I know not 

How come I am alive, 

When you, my idol is no more.

How I am fighting against all odds, 

The vagaries of life, the turbulent sea, the violent weather when the able navigator is no more.

You have not died.

Fathers never die, 

Remain alive as a feeling and consciousness, and that is what guides me in every step.

You know what you mean to me,

To the people who know you,

And you are still in the heart of our hearts, showing the way, guiding us to perfection.

When I fumble,

I always find you behind the back 

Patting my shoulder, murmuring in the ear,

"My child! I am here, always with you forever"