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Happy Father’s Day - Sunanda Vashisht Sunanda Vashisht was born in the beautiful valley of Kashmir, India when Kashmir was known for its unparalleled natural beauty and not as a cauldron of fear and terror. She did most of her schooling in Delhi and dabbled with several professions before moving to U.S last year. she is currently pursuing higher studies here. she likes to introduce herself as an explorer because she wants to spend all her time in this world exploring unknown. Writing for her is a cathartic experience. She can't remember when she began writing first but she does know that writing has always helped her to be at peace with herself and with the world around her.

I had been trying to avoid this for some time. But Anita would have none of it. Finally she decided to pull the cat out of the bag. Could you write something on the father’s day, she wrote to me in an e-mail and urgent she added. I was caught again.

It is difficult for me to say or write anything about my dad or fathers in general.

My earliest memory of my father is his hands. Or my hands in his hands. Whether it was crossing the road or teaching me how to write in cursive, my little hands were always lost in dad’s big hands. His hands held me when I was scared, his hands taught me to fold my hands and pray to God. His hands were always behind me and around me and I felt that his hands were like a wall protecting me from the world.

Over the years, my dad’s face seems to have dimmed in my memory but I clearly remember his hands, patting me when I had done something right. I know the face will diminish with time but I will always remember the love in his hands.

My father was soft and kind when I was sad and he was stern when I had done something wrong but his hands had nothing but love for me.

I remember his hands teaching me how to ride a bike, I remember his hands feeding me food when I was sick, I remember his hands working for me when I was asleep. I know for sure that his hands worked for me even when he was far away from me at a place where none of us could see him. But I see his hands behind me and I still feel my tiny hands in his large hands.

I wish a great father’s day to all our readers. And all those who are busy with life don’t forget to call your dad today because dads are precious. No one can replace our dad’s love for us, no one.

Footnote

This piece was specially written on the father’s day. Although the father’s day is over we felt that readers would still enjoy this because according to us every day is a father’s day and mother’s day.

Till we connect again...

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