• Home
  • Poem
  • Father-Daughter Love: Riding Through Life with Red Symbols of Support
Image

Father-Daughter Love: Riding Through Life with Red Symbols of Support

A Lingering Fragrance of My Father!

#1: A red bicycle

Deuta bought a red bicycle for our brother, who used to move around riding it. I was scared of falling, so I did not dare to try. Deuta encouraged me to learn riding, assuring to hold me from behind. So I mustered up the courage to ride with the confidence that he was holding me from the back. One day I just looked back and saw he was watching me but not holding from behind. That very moment I realised I learned to ride a bicycle. He was my biggest supporter, my mentor, and my most ardent admirer.

In my life, his role was exactly that I felt confident that my father was watching me from behind and would never let me fall…

I hope you are watching over from heaven for me to keep riding on…

#2: A red book

I used to argue a lot with my Deuta. He compared me with the village schoolmaster in the poem of Oliver Goldsmith—one who never accepts defeat.

He wanted me to study science and then medicine, whereas I did not want to do all these. I used to quote him from the poem Children by Khalil Gibran. “Your children are not your children; they come through you but not from you.” He would ask who this Khalil was. I was sure he hated Khalil for writing the poem, Children.

One day he came with this fat red book, The Complete Works of Khalil Gibran. I preserved this book.

Maa and Deuta used to buy us very precious books.

When I was in Class VI, Deuta gave me a copy of a magazine, Competition Success Review. I read an interview of a lady IAS officer, which inspired me to study economics and appear for a competitive examination.

When it comes to the role of public servant, Deuta made me aware that most people do just a job, but some people serve others.

#3: A red shirt 

My stylish father used to wear only white and beige-coloured shirts. Once I bought this red shirt from Cooch Behar, and he did not seem to approve it. One day I was down with viral fever, and suddenly Deuta turned up wearing the red shirt with a red tie. Whenever I go home after a call, he would dress up to receive me. He did not like shabby people, and this I inherited from him.

He was fond of wearing good clothes and carried them very well. Born and brought up in a village, my father had such an impeccable taste for good things in life—whether clothes, books, poetry, or music.

Note: Deuta is father in Assamese.

Photos by the poet

1 Comments Text
  • Leave a Reply

    Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

    Releated Posts

    Embracing Japan: Cherry Blossoms and Zen Spirit

    Dr Molly shares a poignant reflection on Japan’s beauty and resilience for DifferentTruths.com. With cherry blossoms aplenty around,…

    ByByDr. Molly Joseph Apr 29, 2026

    Honour

    Here’s an evocative, woman-centric poem by Sudeshna, for Different Truths. How honourable is thy honour?Is it something found…

    ByBySudeshna Mukherjee Apr 28, 2026

    Summer Breeze…Musical

    Sunil celebrates the summer breeze and looks into the hollowness of material glitz of Europe in travel brochures. Here’s…

    ByByDr. Sunil Sharma Apr 27, 2026

    Earning My Bread

    Elsy speaks of her love for nature and the pressures of daily life to earn our livelihoods. A poem…

    ByByElsy Satheesan Apr 25, 2026
    error: Content is protected !!
    Kindly Note: Articles can only be reproduced in other sites with due permission and acknowledgement to Different Truths. You cannot republish digitally or in print without acknowledgement. Authors & poets are also needed to heed to it. They too must seek permission to reproduce it elsewhere. They must help us protect their works from being copied and/or plagiarised.
    This is default text for notification bar