Conversation with Dad

Conversation with Dad




“Are you travelling alone?” he asks, concerned

“What time is the flight?

Where will you be staying?

Have you booked a cab?”


“I can handle it,” I say

“I’m a grown woman

I’ve traveled places alone

Its not the first.”


“I know. But it’s always been on work

With an chauffeur driven car

And the company overseeing

This is not the same.”


“Yes,” I admit

Feeling a little nervous

It is a first. “But you’ll be there,” I reply

Confidence enveloping me


“I will,” he says, softly

“But its not the same anymore.”

But for me it is

I feel stronger, knowing.


“Was it difficult for you to get here?” he asks

His eyes lighting up, as I walk in

“How was the journey?

“Did you have your lunch?”


His wrinkled skin dangles as he speaks

And his bones –

I see them through his trousers

like a cloth-hanger they hold his attire


“How were your exams?” he asks his grandchild

“Ok,” she says, stunned into silence

The finger she held to go to school

Now holds on to her as he speaks


“That’s good,” he says

“So you’re happy?”

She nods her head

He pats her head, satisfied.


“It’s good you came

Your mother couldn’t have

made it without you,” he looks at me.

It makes her smile.


It makes me smile too.

Reminds me

How it irked me once

Yet how much it pleases me now


Measured and unsure

Slow and staggered

His every step

He holds on for support


But he  checks my ticket

To see the flight’s on time

“Take care of yourself,”

“And the children,” his voice is steady.


I kiss him goodbye

His invincible spirit smiles

It is my armor

My savior, my shelter


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9 responses to “Conversation with Dad”

  1. Beautifully penned smi. Brought tears to my eyes.However big we are dad’s are always protective

    • Thank you so much Vineetha. Yes, we fight to prove a point when we are young only to understand later that their concern is their love and not them thinking of us as incapable.

  2. Lovely and emotionally charged Smitha! This poem brought tears to my eyes and tugged at my heart, questioning the so called Almighty once again… why me?
    I don’t know dads continue to love even when we grow up, I am not that fortunate for destiny snatched mine away too soon, couldn’t even say a goodbye. Had he been alive, our life could have been much different, we wouldn’t have missed our childhood.

    • Thank you so much. I’m so glad it touched you but I’m sorry it made you sad. I’m sorry to hear about your dad. Your life experiences are probably the reason you are different and special. It shows in your writing.
      Dad’s never been expressive and over the last few years’ he’s been so obsessed with his own health so much so it was the only subject we discussed. But seeing me flustered made him forget his concerns, this time.
      Thank you for trusting me enough to share your feelings. Send you a big, warm hug. It’s a privilege to know you. XXX

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