*Daddys Girl* He bought hundreds of dresses for me even before I was born as he was too sure that God had listened to him for his plea for a daughter. My mother died after giving birth to me. Seeing her losing grip was heart-wrenching for him. But he didn’t lose hope. As soon as I was transferred to his lap, an imperishable bond formed between us. The bond to never let go of one another, the bond that was never broken, but flourished with each passing day. He sang lullabies to me, followed me around the house just to make me eat that last piece of bread. We danced at my rhymes together and made alphabets on the sand. Every night, he told me a story; story of me fighting with some aliens and saving the world, or me being the kind queen of a land who listened to the poor. Every story ended up with me being the saviour. But when I asked; “What if I get into trouble daddy, what will I do then?” He always said; “I’ll be there, just look over your shoulder.” And every night, that very statement of his assurance led me to a sound sleep. He never imposed himself on me; even when I chose dancing as my career, he let me. He came along with me on my shows, cheering me from the backstage. We relied on each other completely, depend on each other for the little things. I chose what shirt he’d wear to his office and he always handed me my bag when I left home. These tiny meaningless things kept us closer. ~ Now my daddy is ill. The stroke has made him weak. He’s fragile. He cant move around the house like he did earlier. I cant tour any more now so I have opened a dance class at my home to be watchful towards him. Today he’s been sitting beside the window, looking outside the whole day. “What happened daddy? What’s bothering you?” I ask. “I’m scared; scared to be alone, it’s going to be painful,” he sigh. “Oh Daddy, you know I’ll always be there for you, just look over your shoulder.” I smile, holding his hand in mine.
Posted on: Mon, 14 Jul 2014 20:00:57 +0000