Traveling Raconteur

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A Few Things About My Father

I know it to be true

That the most important thing a father can do
For his children, is to love their mother.
Sometimes I find them in the balcony of their house
My mother and her spouse
Reading newspaper together at 6 am
Both agitated at the same things
And at some other things both happy
Like a dance of the mind and the heart that is in tune with the others’

My Papa loves his old songs
Rafi and Yesudas I guess are his favourites,
And then there’s Akon and the likes of Massive Attack
That have somehow and strangely found their way to his heart
He chooses to play them in his car
His car, his glorious car is his Man Friday
No partner in any adventure that I can say
His white Honda City gives him comfort and joy
As he drives it, I understand why
He loves his machine so much
Enjoys the simplest things as pushing the clutch
It’s not about the car but about the things in life,
Of years of hard work, sincerity and overcoming any strife
Of the enormous beauty in every present moment
I seem to understand it, hence some evenings my prayers are,
‘Dear God, don’t give that damn car any dent’

He has his own collection of ‘pace’
He keeps them like his ties, orderly and safe
Brisk and lightening when he needs to get work done
Calm as the clouds when he is lost in a song
Intense when there’s a problem or an awkward case
An other kind of intense when folding clothes to maximize suitcase space
Playful as a brook when cutting onions, helping mum in the kitchen
Bejewelled by laughter when goofing with my brother now and then
I know he likes Wimbledon, I am glad it will soon begin
And maybe we will watch it together again
As we first did some twenty and two years ago and have since

He possibly doesn’t get me, his daughter completely
That’s okay, it is anyways how daddys are generally
But my Papa is wonderful you see
I wouldn’t be what I am, if my Papa didn’t help me be.

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This entry was posted on June 18, 2013 by in Love-Letters, Something Like Poetry.

Fighting An Additction

Not One MoreSeptember 12th, 2014
Addiction is a curse one allows upon one's self until it ceases to seek permission. I do not like the idea of a mind controlled by substance. If I can refrain for 30 days, I'd be very impressed with myself.

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