Father's day

It's a Sunday. Father's day sort of day too. I am sitting here by the blue wall next to the yawning door of the balcony. I see the new bat like black fan twirling leisurely causing Ali's kurta on the iron stand to serenely breathe. The LCD remains pitch black hanging on the blue wall perpendicular to the one my back is currently resting upon. The cushions are everywhere, speak loads about the battle the room had just gone through when the kids had tea and rusks. The sky is thundering with the sound of a passing air craft, it's a PIA. The generator is raoring down stairs. Kids are yelling, playing, enjoying their evening out side. Someone's motor bike is honking in a shrill high pitched peep, perhaps to push the scattered kids out of the way. Something is bugging me next to my left sternocleidomastoid, I don't know, could just be the muscle. Khaula, Shifa, Mania, Saria are playing in the girl's room, I think I hear cards. I don't fancy cards. Someone just rang the door bell too, I don't wonder who that is.

As the birds continue to chirp pulling on to the curtain of night, another day reaches the finish line. It has been a busy day since the morning as I found myself being jumped upon by little Zavia.

"Sab se ziyada Pakistan ko galiyaan denay wala shaks kon hai?" A question was raised on the table for breakfast.
"Chachu!!!" Almost everyone knew the answer.
"Sab se aakhir mein Pakistan ko chhorh kar kon jaega?" Another question was born.
"Chachu!!!" Everyone but I yelled.
"Nahi, Sana."

Dad, you are my hero.
Dated: June 19, 2011