A Bruise On My Soul #wattys2016

Daddy-My hero

After dinner I sat with dad on our terrace garden which was exclusively designed and decorated by both of us. Our conjoined efforts blossomed here, in this small part of our home. If this home was built by our sweat and blood then this roof garden was created by our ideas and imaginations.

The fences were filled with scented jasmine which were trained to climb over to give it a trendy look. The clipped topiary sphere on either side of the terrace planted in white pots rendered the backyard a dramatic effect. Furniture implanted at the center of the stage was antique to contributed the whole space a classic look. Lavender which happened to be my favorite flower occupied the majority of the space and were displayed on a garden bench. There were hanging baskets holding calibrachoa at the entrance to add onto the beauty. During the night our place of wonder would shine bright as we had implanted small bulbs, miniscule size all over the garden.

It was our small heaven. A heaven created by our very hands.It was our daily routine of spending dad- daughter time here after dinner. The serenity we found here was enthralling. This place screamed tranquility.

"How's your writing work going?" my dad questioned.

I knelt down beside his chair and placed my head over his lap. In response my dad raked his hand through my hair. This was my best loved position.

"I don't know dad. I'm confused. I don't think I'll ever make it" I moaned.

"Aaru, you are Colonel Arjun Rathore's daughter. We fight but we never give up"

I snickered. It was dad's signature punchline. He used it at all my predicaments to egg on.I never found it of much help, nonetheless there was this perpetual hope in those words which somehow assured me that if I fail somewhere in life, I'll always have his back.

"I'm not giving up. But I don't find anything inspiring to write. I mean, there was a time when I could write endlessly. But I presume, now I've forfeited it."

After a minute of pause, my dad sighed. He held my chin up with his delicate hands so that he could meet my eyes.

"Aaradhya always remember one thing. An artist never ever perishes. You might be at your weakest moment, but the art in you would still be alive. You just need to recognize it and polish it till it shines like a diamond which everyone could admire. See, dreaming big is very easy, and majority of the population do it on a daily basis but achieving them through your sheer hard work is what would make you stand out among others. Life will never yield you all that you want out of the blue. What life could render you is opportunities. Opportunities to make your dream a living reality."

I gazed at him with utmost admiration and respect. His words sinking in me, word by word. I could never cease worshipping this man. All my brainy wires, all my heart's antennas were singing praises to him.

I smiled and hugged him as tightly as I could from my sitting position. He reciprocated the same gesture back. I felt at peace. That's what I needed for today.

"Thank you Dada. I don't know what I would be without you."

"That's why I'm with you always"

"So you'll be there with me always?"

"Always"

"Promise?"

"Promise"

I breathed a sigh of relief at that promise and rested my head on my procreator's lap.