One of the earliest memory of my father, I can remember  is of him carrying me in his arms to drop me at school. I must have been four or so.  I was happily tucked in his arms, my both arms wrapped  tightly around his neck, and my little head tucked on the crook of his neck, and was nestled snugly. I was cosy and felt safe in his arms. The memory is so vivid that I can still smell his after shave-‘ Old Spice’. The minute we arrived at school in front of my class room , I remember the discomfort of being priced from a warm snug arms and standing in the cold air of the school and feeling unprotected. I remember sticking  my lower lip out and crying with tears streaming. And then I remember his eyes; liquid, slightly bulging, dark and shinning eyes. He sat down in front of me, his knees bent , his eyes peering in to mine, trying to find out what had upset me. He asked ‘ Did I tie your shoe laces too tight, are your feet hurting? ‘  And he adjusted my shoe laces. I was still upset and teary faced. He asked does your throat hurt? He touched my forehead to check if I was warm. I did not tell him, that it s just I did not like being extracted out his arms and did not want to be in school. He said, “I know you are not feeling well, but you must attend school, you do not have fever.” And then I saw him walking to the teacher and telling her ‘ She is not well. Please be gentle with her today’.

I have often wondered , did he know I was upset because of being taken out of his arm, and was perfectly alright otherwise. I wish I had told him sometime that I felt so loved and cherished at that moment. His genteel behaviour and kind voice made me feel even more special and loved.

Just the other day my husband showed a photograph on instagram of  a little girl looking at her father with a quote  ‘ Someday I will find my prince but  you are my king’ .

Dearest Appa, Yes I have found my prince, but you are and will always be my King –

with lots of love and cuddles.

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