When I look at you. . .

Another pebble into the river. A new melancholic thought popped in my mind with each drenched pebble.The calm, clear, shimmering, rejuvenating water of the river. The cool breeze blowing my left- open hair. The birds singing melodiously. And amidst all this pleasance, lying is the bewildered, broken and burning heart of mine.

An antonymous pair.

Tears are falling out from my eyes and moistening my cheeks. It's not that I'm not in my senses. I am. I can feel whatever is happening to me.

I am hurt and upset. I have heaps of questions in my mind. "What did I do to deserve a slap from him? Why doesn't he ever understand? I'm old enough to take my own decisions. Had it been my brother, would he have reacted in the same way? No. A sure-short ,No. I won't take it anymore. I want to clear it now itself."

Wiping off the water from my eyes, I get up. Yes, I'd say water and not tears because tears are valuable. What's coming out from my eyes right now is not valuable, it's plain.
I walk through the grass, shrubs, pits, stones, leaving the beauty behind. Contradictory to my usual practice, I thrust my hand loudly on the door of his house. Maa opens it and asks me to speak in low voice. He has an headache and has gone to sleep already. Never in my whole life did I wake him up from his sleep. But this very moment, I have to talk to him.

I enter his room, switch on the lamp, go up to his bed, and stand on the left side of it. I want to call him loud and clear my doubts, questions, and empty my mind. And then. . .

I look at him. My dad. I look at his face. The ball of anger and outrage, residing within me, begins melting for unknown reason. With short and soft steps, I move back and get up on the bed from the right side. The neatly made bed. I sat closer to him. My eyes still on his face which has the innocence of a baby. On this face, I don't see the busyness which he carries whole day. On this face, I don't see the anger he had while he slapped me. On this face, I don't see the worries regarding anything. On this face, I see relaxation. A sort of happiness , maybe.

I looked around in the room. My eyes fell upon the photo frame,hanging on the wall in front of me, having the picture of me and my dad. I am sitting on his lap wearing a red frock, doll-cut hair, and looking at him with my twinkling eyes. He is looking back at me with a broad and an affectionate smile. I look cute in the picture. I always made my dad smile. But. . .now? Do I make him smile the way I used to? Ah, I know the answer.

I look at him again..now more carefully. His eyes! I have seen them crying when I was admitted to hospital. I have seen them laughing when he saw my ICSE result. They're sleeping now and are looking beautiful. 

His cheeks are still my favourite thing to play with. 

His fingers! I have seen them  drawing diagrams in my biology notebook. I have seen them tying my shoelaces on Saturdays. I have seen them preparing food for us when my mom fell sick.

Watching him reminds me of all the beautiful and precious moments of my life. 

When I was too young to talk, he used to make me smile. When I grew old and learned to talk, I used to make him smile. And now, we both want each other to make us smile.

Oh! wait, he is smiling. He's smiling in his sleep.  His smile!  It is the cutest thing on this earth. A tear is rolling down through my eyes. But, I am smiling.

He is so cute!

I feel sorry for whatever I did and whatever I do to him. Those harsh words, those uninformed parties I went to, the low grades, my anger, lies, everything is coming into my mind and it is making me cry. I am crying, audibly. I don't want to, but I can't help it. 

Sorry! I'm sorry Dad.

I see him turning side. Fearing he may wake up, I shut myself up. Holding back my tears, I'm crying at heart. Whatever questions and doubts I came up with, vanished away. I can do anything to preserve this very priceless smile which I saw just now.

I bent forward and kissed his forehead and whispered, "Dad,I love you. I'll keep making you smile. It's above anything." 

Ecstasy and joy is running through my veins now. I'm happy. No matter whatever he says to me, he is my dad.

I get up from the bed.  His cell phone rings. Yes, the alarm. It's six o'clock . Dad opens his eyes, still drowsy, and asks me what I am doing here. I smile and say to him," Nothing Dad." I step out of the room but something is making me turn back to him. I jump on the bed, hug him, and say, "Good morning, Dad." He keeps his hand on my head and says, "Sorry." I kissed his cheeks. I feel secure. I feel like it is the only thing I need.

He is smiling.

 I am going back to the beauty I left earlier but this time not to cry, but to scream aloud that I have the best dad in the world.

There may arise many misunderstandings between you and your dad but remember, he is the one who thought you were uncommonly beautiful and the most precious gem on this earth, and he still thinks the same about you. One day, you'll be all grown and will wave him goodbye to find a life of your own. You'll perform wonders. And while you will be busy achieving everything, there will be someone feeling proud. He will be telling the world how proud he is to have a daughter/ son like you. 

Love him to the core. Find time to observe him while he sleeps. You'll fall in love with him even more.


What do you feel when you look at him? :) 

His forever,
-Megha