As we were riding in the car, he was slightly fretful about my driving, though was trying hard to hide his worries. Occasionally, he would blurt his remarks of caution. “Dhyaan se”, he would mumble. But sweet, he maintained I drive well. In his maroon sweater he looked good. I wore the same for his kirya.
As we went around Gurgaon, I experienced something that I hadn’t for some months now…I was smiling, not a phoney, void smile, but one, from deep within. One which was clearly spelling that I was happy, very happy. For once, I was feeling protected.
We ate together and I feasted – food was never so delectable. Every bite of dal- roti was tastier than the earlier one. With every bite he would feed, he looked into my eyes. There was a connection. I could read his soul, and he could read mine. He could sense my melancholy, and I could feel his concern. A relationship that sees no boundaries – of life, of death, of relationship, of distance - nothing.
For a moment it seemed like life was for living. And I pinched myself - dreams do not stay for long. They pass away with every night; and so, he had to go. His words of parting were words of motivation and assurance. My guardian angel that he is, he will forever be with me, he promised. Papa, I miss you – in dreams and in reality.