My Father

Other than myself the next best friend i had was my father. I loved to be near him whenever he was at home. And he, in turn, was very patient. Like every children, i too was curious. I had so many doubts and questions. He listened to me and cleared my doubts as simply as he could. If, still he was unable to convince me, his stock answer would be:" once you grow up you will understand it." That was acceptable to me. 

He provided us with the best things in the world. He didn't want us to miss what he missed as a child. Both his parents died when he was very young. He was the youngest in the family and was ill-treated and subjugated by his siblings. At the age of 16 he ran away from home. When he could stand on his own he came back, the siblings who had squandered all the family wealth, unashamedly rallied around him. He forgave but never forgot. 

As a teenager too i used to confide things to him. He always listened and gave his opinion. In times of distress he was my knight in shining armor. 

For all this love, care, trust what could i give him back? Nothing. He was a self-made man. He had all what he wanted. Did he? From the time i could remember, he missed one thing. He missed his mother. Most days, in sleep he called out for his mother. He still missed the love and care of his mother. This yearning continued till the end of his life. 

At this point of life, the only thing i can wish for him is; If he has a rebirth, let him be blessed with the best mother and every best things in this world.