A letter to my Father

Note(for English native speakers): Buwa means father in Nepali. The following is letter that I actually want to write to my late father but I don’t know where he is currently so thought of posting it in the internet with the hope that he might receive it at the other end.

Dear Buwa,

I hope you are fine. As per what I have seen of you during my dreams you seem to look much more fitter, younger and healthier to say the least. I guess you are having a nice time free of all the chronic sickness that you battled throughout your lifetime. Your other worry, ahhhh…. me I guess, don’t be bothered Buwa I am doing good. You need not worry about mother as well, as usual you know she’s all in command marshaling her limited resources as ever and just more efficiently than before.

But I do have small complaint Buwa, she still finds every possible chance to scold your chora(son). But Buwa now a days I just love to hear her get agitated as you know when, hahahaha… we both share a common problem its almost genetic to me, misplacing stuffs and littering food stuffs in guest room. May be just a sign that your small chora has matured unlike that small fellow’s instinctive nature of being upset, but to tell you frankly some it still remains and over that my poker faced nature reveals it all something that my friends at the office have been quite used to.

As I write to you probably for the third time in my life, if you forgotten the earlier two let me remind you. The first two were written way back in school hostel when we were made to write to our parents, remember? Never mind Buwa but its just hard to believe that the last time I saw you in person was some nine years back. God! you should have been there to see me now. Your small son now a days heads for office rather than school. But interestingly he carries with him some corporate bag that you were presented in some conference. Hey by the way I forgot to tell you about my work, currently I work for some development agency and a radio as well. About the radio thing, I just miss you as my primary listener Buwa. I wonder how excited would you have been when I first went on air last December. I bet you would have been one proud father. But anyways I hope you must have tuned in some time or the other. Unfortunately I don’t know where you are otherwise I would have told you the frequency.

Nine years Buwa nine long years. Just imagine the amount of things that I have left to say. I certainly hope you remember that I did not miss out telling you about anything from my studies, games, friends and most importantly the school level competitions that I participated and won. I cannot forget the excitement in your eyes while I shared with you about my achievements, they lit up like the stars. Probably the last things that I shared with was about winning an speech competition in Grade 11, you remember I guess, you were in the hospital. It was also the last day that we really had a conversation following that day you were unable to speak. I totally understand Buwa you were really sick.

My plus two results weren’t that great but in my bachelor’s I did well. I was up in the stage receiving certificate from the Prime Minister can you imagine that? I really missed you that day Buwa, sometimes happy news requires a grateful receiver to make it worthwhile. You know…. mother is always subdued she does not show much emotions. Post bachelor’s its been really busy and I don’t know how much I would have been able to chat with you as I return home from office. I guess you remember we talking about everything from politics to sports and films. Your political predictions were immaculate I miss them too.

You know Buwa you just left too early that I just missed out on the teenage part. The self acquired maturity and responsibility is sometimes just suffocating. Even when you were there you gave me every opportunity to make my own little decisions. I sometimes wonder if you were knowledgeable of your early exit that you prepared me to make my own decisions. But Buwa sometimes its hard to father yourself , its almost scary to go ahead with a decision for you aren’t there for a second opinion. But you know Bua your jackets and coat did provide me with the cozy protection from cold as well as from my insecurities. I enjoy putting them on, they are all I have of you to make me feel your presence around me. By the way this winter I tried your coat as well the one one you had bought for function, remember? That grey one. It really fits me well though they are shorter towards the hands but I don’t mind, I guess style statement.

By the way Buwa with the letter I have also attached a painting, you always encouraged my paint work. The painting depicts your importance in my life my tiny feet are supported in your secure hands. The hands were no doubt my foundation. Though the foundation has been shaken and my deep seated insecurities exposed, sometimes it make me want to cry feel insecure and weak. But I am trying to rebuild Buwa and I am trying to make things happen. But the confusion is evident like when I do something I don’t know if I am correct or not, I don’t know if I am right for I don’t have you guide me and relieve me of my insecurities. But I am learning Buwa I have fallen several times and learned to rise. I know I will have some more falls but I assure you a rise is eminent.

Buwa I don’t know when I shall see you next. I know your blessing are with me. Sometimes within my busy scheduled it almost feels that I have forgotten you and the guilt within is unfathomable. But I hope you have a great time. The next time we meet please prepared I have lot questions to throw at you.

Your Chora