Letters to Dad

Dear Dad,

I was an obstinate child. Like a tree that refuses to bow down before gusts of wind much stronger than itself. But quite unlike that proud tree, I never faced my comeuppance. Few twigs broke sometimes. But the wind was never able to completely break me. You have been the mountain that firmly stands between the wind and your proud yet fragile daughter.

I remember in school when I had to write my home work and there was no blank sheet left in my notebook. How I was worried that I would not be able to complete my assignment. Or was I worried I would fail to impress my favourite English teacher? The first would be sad but the latter would be a tragedy. After all, wasn’t I her favourite student as well! And so I was worried; to lose the imaginary title, perhaps. That changed when you came home from work in the evening. I narrated to you the tragedy that had befallen. You heard it patiently. As a solution you searched an old notebook with a couple of used sheets. You diligently removed any trace of ownership from it. This should work, you must have thought. But as I mentioned (and you must know it too) I was an obstinate child. I wanted a new notebook. I failed to discern the fatigue that marred your calm face then. That was tragedy.

The mountain cannot bend down. It might not even be aware of such an alternative. And even if it is aware, I still think it might not give up its responsibility. It will keep on taking the blows of the egotist wind but will never bow down to let it destroy the valley, the proud tree.

Yours sincerely.