After a long day she would hug him tightly the moment he was back home, persuading to take her for a ride, and then hold his hand tightly, clutching it all the more while crossing the road…when she cried ballistically he would try to amuse in every possible way, tricking her into giggles… every evening you could see her tearing away a day-old newspaper and he would draw pleasure off her mischievous play… a mere sneeze at midnight would lay him awake ensuring that she doesn’t catch cold…she is his princess and he is her first friend, you see.
She grew up as a total pampered kid but he was wise enough to give her a piece of mind to realize the reality.
When she was five, she once sneaked into his study and suddenly added in her childish yet confident voice-
“Papa, mujhe bhi kavita likhni hai.”
He replied in a way as if he had expected this to happen-
“Acha bolo, main likhta hunn.”
And on the brown cover of the very book he was reading, he penned down as she came up with these lines (as she could barely write anything more than A-Z or her name) :
Bulbule paani ki nadiyon
Behte paani ki galiyon
Acha lagta hai
Jab baarish hoti hai
Paani taalab mein doobta hai…
As soon as she had finished, he didn’t say much but encouraged her to keep writing and all the more get into reading ever since- introducing to a whole new world again, the charm of which grows every single day.
And now… when I’m writing this bit to my papa, I can proudly say that whatever I’ve read till date and written so far is a result of that verse, an unforgotten memory I will treasure all my life.
You are my MUSE papa, versifying my life forever...
I wish to be like you one day.
Happy Birth Day To You!!!
Naalayak Tuli ;)