A Demanding Relationship Yet Fruitful

Papa! A word I repeated throughout my childhood, sometimes, in utter frustration and sometimes in need.

I was the youngest of my siblings, but I still felt as if I was chained to fulfill my little desires. My father worked in the military, robust and tough in his approach, and assertive in his behavior. No wonder, there were incidents that filled me with loads of outrage but above all with melancholy.

We live in a world where experiences and events lead a person towards his refined form but this period of refining is always dealt with ungratefulness. My father taught me how to respect others by disrespecting me when I crossed limits, taught me how to appreciate the price of currency by not handing me over money and items that I drooled upon, taught me how to stand before God and to ask for every tittly bittly thing, even the lace of a shoe, from the Almighty by thrashing when I failed to pray. He taught me how to keep the family united and how to provide everyone their rights by making me apologize for feeble mistakes with my siblings and loved ones.

I often used to say bad words and utter nonsense about my father when I was scolded. I used to run from the house and not come back even when someone requested me to return. I used to complain and cry and always felt unloved. I was a child, a kid who thought his father was a rude intolerant person. But, this was all out of frustration, out of exasperation. I was oblivious of the fact that this person whom I thought was a foe who knew nothing but hate, was in fact, raising my standards so that he could be successful in nurturing his son as he dreamt of. A father who dreams of his son as a better version of himself goes out of his way to make his future the shiniest even if it has to come at a price. Thus, he did what he could by always telling me what was wrong, although in a higher tone, in a not-so-easy manner, but it was all to the best of my interests.

We wonder why our parents are always like this. It is because this is how they are created. A father would never want his child should repeat the same mistakes that he found himself committing. He would never wish that his kid whom he provided for throughout his life be exploited by this vicious world. He would seldom want his son should feel the pain that he himself suffered from the bruises of this life; a marathon of hardships. He never cries, never displays his emotions, never makes his children feel deprived of all necessities, and never stops striving.

Why do I face the wrath of my father, I often questioned. I saw him awake all night next to my bed when I got admitted to the hospital due to illness. Coming and going and buying medicines and paying my expenses. I saw him praying for my health by raising his hands in front of God. I saw him always providing for me, even after retirement, interviewing for one job, then another, and then another so that the trail of income never stops and he's able to feed his children even if he has to burn his midnight oil. The love of a father can not be replicated.

Today, all those efforts of my father have made me what I am and what I will be. Paying respect and showing affection to our parents is the least that we owe them. May the prayers of our parents stay with us throughout our lives and may paradise be granted to those who have lost one or both of their loved ones.