"It takes courage to stand for a woman.
A man having this trait is all making him a man."
The soldier I met was captivated by the enemies when he rescued me from the nasty shackles of imprisonment. To fight with the fettered hands is indeed commendable. I belong to a family where parents are over-caring and in that love and affection they strangle our dreams unknowingly. I'm dedicating this post to the man who has always remained my beau idéal. I have inherited the traits of perseverance and patience from him only. My father , my creator, my mentor, my soldier are some tags which define Mr. Prakash Chandra Bafna as the best person I came across in this little life.
It is said that parents live their unrealized dreams through their children. My father wanted to pursue C.A. but my grandmother’s love pinioned him from moving to the town for further studies. He succumbed to mother’s love and let his dream breathe last. He is a man of integrity always giving priority to the family and relationships over materialistic things. But somewhere deep inside he wished to reach the heights. When I was born to him, he was on cloud nine as narrated by my mother. I feel lucky to be born to my parents who never distinguished between a girl and a boy despite of belonging to an orthodox family from Rajasthan. Being the first child, I was pampered more than my younger brother. I still tease him with,” Ma-pa loves me more than you”. And then he tries to put up a “I- don’t- care” face which is hell amusing.
I took my first breath in his palms
Coddled as a doll
Riding on his back
He was my horse
On Sunday mornings.
Managing the finances
To buy me the best
Was his test.
Calm and quiet
She is a Xerox of her father
Says mob when we sit together.
I feel great to sit under his shade
Soothing my soul
Saving me from all odds
Strengthening me to step ahead.
I’m not able to write down a neat verse right now. But this clutter is speaking volumes just like my father standing tall with his silence speaking volumes. I still remember the first day of my school when I was dropped by him into the class. I remember the way he used to sit overnight rubbing ghee on my palms when my body stirred to 101 C. I can still feel the high leap when he tossed me into the air for I stood first in my class.
He loves to be known as “Surbhi’s father” rather than “Mr. Bafna”. It was always his gracious presence around me in one or the other felicitation ceremony when his chest would grow double trying to imbibe all the prestige within himself. Though I never felt like I had crossed any milestone but every stone I crossed appeared to be a milestone with his proud face and glistening eyes revealing his love for me. Had he not supported me, had he not gone against my family’s wish, had he not boosted me, I would have withered away just like other girls of the village who end up within the four walls.
My father had lent me his wings
To soar high and touch the sky.
I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
With his blessings pouring over me
I will make him live his dreams through me.
Hioy'oy Hoi Polloi