(This piece was written a long time ago.)
Today is the third Sunday of June. Every year this day belongs to fathers. Last Father’s Day, I wrote some words on my wall for my father. Father is still the same as before. He hasn’t changed a bit. No, I misspoke. He has changed. His body has broken down more than before, he’s had a stroke once. Father has always been as simple as a child, and that simplicity has grown even deeper now. This very shy man has somehow become even more bashful. He prays for everyone’s well-being constantly; more than before. Please pray for my father. I’m reposting last year’s words again.
(That piece repeats other writing from this same post, so I haven’t included that part again.)
Two things.
# For those whose fathers are no longer with us today, I offer this prayer for their fathers: O God! If I have done even the smallest good deed in life, I give the merit of that good deed to them on this day. May their souls rest in eternal peace.
# Wherever you are, whatever your situation right now, please call your father and wish him on Father’s Day? He might not even understand what “Father’s Day” is. Just ask him how he’s doing? Whether he’s taking his medicines properly? If possible, buy him his favorite food or arrange for it to be given to him. Can’t you buy some flowers? Along with a small cake? That would be plenty. The moment God creates parents, He gives them the strange ability to find joy in the smallest things.
Final words.
I’ll end with something petty. (Because I fall into the category of extremely petty in this matter.) Anyone can share my writing if they wish. You can copy-paste it and post it from your wall, with my name and tagging me if you like. I mean, as long as it’s clear that the writing is mine, not yours, you can do whatever you want. (Don’t share it writing “collected.” This really irritates me.) If you do anything beyond this, if I somehow find out or if any well-wisher kindly informs me of it, I’ll block you immediately. The impotent will remain as impotent. That’s the rule. I feel not an ounce of sympathy for intellectual thieves and scoundrels. You express your love for your father in your own way. Thank you for understanding.
(At that time I was truly quite harsh toward plagiarists. I’m not so much anymore. Anyone can share my writing however they wish. I don’t mind it anymore. Our readers surely understand who among us can write what and how much.)