HOLDING MY DAD’S HAND

I don’t know how it feels like to be a father, perhaps I will never know. But when you see the world through the pointing of your dad’s finger, when you wonder at his big shoes and wear it, when you need your whole hand to hold his index finger, you realize how big and wonderful this world is. When he gives you your first pocket money, you come out from the barter system of exchanging chocolates for a feather or stamp. When he tells you about his college days, you wonder what it would be like...


Being a daughter teaches you so many things, but it is always too late when you realize. The food he gave with his own hands seems to be the one which is the tastiest. The ice-cream which he brought for you kneeling down before your public show of adamant screaming seem to be the sweetest. I now wonder how a man can be so soft to his baby, even without carrying it for ten months, without feeding it. Well, nature might have realized that a girl needs to hold the strong hands of a father for her first steps.