Father's Day

standing before the mirror,
when I used to brush my hair, 

the way you would,
or, try to follow your footsteps, Bapa
be it the sure steps of walk,
or the calmness of your talk,
the charming smile that preceded you

or, the grace as you took on tough questions,
you're always the ideal I want to be,
you are my first Hero, 

you'd be the last too!

yes, we've argued, Bapa
sometimes bitter, 
each too stubborn to let go.
i wanted to hug you tight,
to tell you I didn't mean to be rude
i'm sure you also felt the same,
right after,
but held back.
you'd cheer my courage and reason,
and why not
after all, aren't they your genes!

yes, I've cried
felt sorry for hurting you,
but I enjoyed each instance -
the love, the squabble 

and the way you let me make up.
i miss our banter,
i haven't come by another, 

who would argue back, as hard,
and yet full of warmth,
we've had our differences, 

and yes, the hurting silences too,
but every time I reflect,
they're measly short of 

the ways we'd think alike!

when I catch my son,
play the 'papa',
before my cabinet's smoked mirror,
a smile leaps out my thoughts and lips,
as memories swept by,
and the moistness wells up
to escape from the corner of my eyes.

you are my strength, Bapa
when life frets and freaks
and leaves me weak,
you are my guiding light, 

always paving my way,
when the sky turns dark, 

and the day turns gray,
you bring on the dreams, father
when life's bends wear me out.
you are my Hero, you'll always be
every pulse, every moment, 

along every way
every second, my father, 

is a father's day!

 © sashikant mohanty