Saving ten cents off a sugar-cane juice for himself so that I could have a dollar worth of coke.
Deciding not to celebrate his birthday only to plan a lavish one for me.
Himself managing with the same pair of flip-flops for over five years but not hesitating to get me a new pair of shoes every year.
Stitch-patching his one trouser to ensure I have seven pairs, one-a-day of the week.
Thinking twice and not getting a wrist-watch for himself but unhesitatingly getting me sun-glasses for no reason.
That my friends are the memories of dad, my dad, I had a few months back.

I do not remember the nights when he stayed-up walking, coz I was sleeping on his warm shoulder rocking.
I do not remember how he sweated in the heat of an army mission when I was playing gully cricket in the army neighborhood.
I do not know how many tears he shed for his family at a time I was partying with my friends in the college hostel.
I do not know how he breathed his last, all alone in the hospital ICU, when I was holidaying with my family and friends.
BUT I do know that every one of those moments, he was praying, praying that ‘I’ may have a good life
That, my friends is a dad to every son and so was my dad to me…

Dressed in his crisp army greens, shoes shining like a mirror and the stars lined on his chest.
In sleeveless vest with a lungi around his waist, legs stretched and sleeping while watching tv
Un-tucked half sleeved white shirt on a pleated dark trouser with the slippers outside the Church.
Pulling himself out of the warm sleeping bag to make an early morning tea for me in Kashmir
These are the few images of my dad that I carry in the canvas of my memory.

Like my mom, he was not there always to receive me at home when I returned from school.
Like my mom, he was not there every time I wanted to share the centum I scored in my math.
Like my mom, he was not there every night that I might have needed my diaper to be changed.
Like my mom, he was not there for every vacation to play with me being out on a deployment.
But I know that the only reason I am what I am today is because of the struggles in what he did at times when he was not with me to celebrate.
That my friends are the celebrations I never had with my dad.

He would not kiss me ever on my wound with any promise to get it healed.
He would not hug me ever and show his love never.
He would not smile at me often enough to show his affection towards me.
Everything my mom would do every minute he would not do even once in a year.
Yet, I knew always that he loved me enough to be ready to stretch out his hands and die on the cross.
That my friends is a dads love for his child and so was my dads love for me.

Every time he kneeled down to pray, to his God, he had a small prayer for me on his lips
Every time he stood up to worship his God, he had a hymn for his son in his heart
Every time he closed his eyes remembering his God, he had a vision for me in his spirit
Every night he slept on his bed thanking his God, he had the largest gratitude to God, for his son
I now know my friends that each waking breath I inhale and each sleeping moment I live is a prayer each, that my Dad had offered to his God, for me.
And it is the very same prayer that he continues to offer in the heavens even today that gives me the body soul and spirit to stand here today…

I have not seen you Jesus, I have not seen you O’ Father of Abraham, I may not have been touched by the spirit that many Christians claim to have, but
From what I have read about you Jesus, from what I have heard about you O’ Father of Abraham, and from what I dream to experience when the holy spirit touches me…
I do know that, to manifest the love of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit on earth, for weak spirited sons like me, God made Fathers, that you and I could call daddy.