My Father
My Father
O my father, my dear darling father!
No words can depict, even a part
Of the deep emotions that smother
Me, and tear my heart apart!
When thoughts-many thousands-so dear,
About him and his ways-of my dad,
Come rushing to my mind-so clear
I set my pen to quell myself-so mad.
Though lean in corporal structure,
And implied toughness on surface;
He had strength of good character
Which held surging love beneath the base.
One cannot think of him
Without dwelling on his upright stride,
With hands strong, though slim
Swaying past -fast beside.
The aura of his sharp mien glowed,
With deep thoughts of virtue;
The sparkle of his eye elaborately told
The intelligence that was barred from view.
Strong to his duty ever bound,
From twelve, after his father's demise,
He strove to bring his dependents round—
His mother, brothers and sister-as a man so wise.
All his available resources eroded,
He never could achieve his dream
Of wearing a graduate gown. Instead
He shouldered the burden with a beam!
To Ooty, from his home-town, Vellore,
He proceeded in pursuit of a job;
Then came down to Coimbatore,
In his teens, with a big heart-sob.
Then at the great city of Calcutta,
He worked for a while as a young lad;
But finally settled down at Nallagutta
In the beautiful city of Secunderabad.
With the office of the Cantonment Board,
Himself he completely identified;
From dawn to dusk o'er the files he poured,
[...] Read more
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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