Saturday, 20 December 2025

My father Giani ji

A speck of blue turban

in a sea of unfamiliar faces

and i knew i was home.


Tall , majestic, greying

and eyes that breathed

compassion


attending to everyones needs

simultaneously

lending an ear here

and a hand there



hands broad knuckled, gentle

patted aberrant babies to sleep

mended broken toys

wrote countless documents

turned pages ; held hands

lifted babies ;fixed leaking taps

chopped onions

and prayed



brow ever so white

and pure



a smile ever so genuine

a laughter ever so true

a speech ever so profound

a heart ever so full of

love and warmth



whence forth the time materialised

to help grandchilren with their home work

to help grand mother in the kitchen

to make family videos

to assist grown up sons in their paper work

in their family

to arrange for weddings and funerals

to never forget any birthday or anniversary

to give and give some more





To be there for everyone

to be transformed into a real ,

breathing benediction ; an angel

in human form


to depart

when everyone

is fast asleep

a pat here; a sheet gently pulled

there

a softly spoken goodbye



that is how

the man who i call

my father

lived

and died.


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