Schools during monsoon was what I hated the most.. waiting on the stairs watching the clock wondering when the rain would stop.. I do love rain that's not the issue, the crises was the bicycle.. damn! those muddy roads... but that was clearly not the reason for my upset ride back home.. the dad's of my friends who used to come with umbrella to pick their little princess was what upsetting me... I was envious.. I was jealous of those girls who ran to their father shouting "dad!"
My pappa is a stern, strict, rowdy looking, scary father who used to not care about the public and raise his hands on the street if mistakes committed.. that's my dad..
The man whom I was scared to death when I was younger is the same man who shed tears as I left home for studies (he still does)
He is the strongest man I have seen and also the most emotional fool.. his cries always fills water in my eyes but I know if it drops down along with his he he would surely squeeze me to death with his hug (I will die from suffocation for sure)
I might not share everything with him or call him everyday asking him how he is doing.. I might still be answering him with just yes or no the maximum time without much to say.. there might be awkwardness around us or I might hesitate to hug him.. "I love you" has never been in his dictionary, it has long been replaced with "magale" *daughter..
Pappa is the man I was always scared of.. the man I always care for.. he might not be the one I share my secrets with.. he might not be my best friend.. he might not be my hero either... he is the first man I loved
