• 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

    How War Transforms Innocent Classrooms into Targets

    Prof Sanjukta’s searing poem on DifferentTruths.com exposes the visceral horror of war through a child’s devastating, final questions. …

    ByByDr Sanjukta Dasgupta Jun 12, 2026

    How to Deeply Love and Honour the Slain Daughters of the Soil

    Discover Lopamudra’s hauntingly lyrical prose poetry on DifferentTruths.com, a visceral, unyielding tribute to a plundered daughter of the…

    ByByLopamudra Banerjee Jun 11, 2026

    Nourishing Night

    Here’s a poem, by Arun, in the tradition of the Romantics, wherein the poet’s love for the night,…

    ByByArun Dash Jun 10, 2026

    Life is a Defeat without Failure

    Sankha’s poem is an exploration of resilience and growth, exclusively featured on DifferentTruths.com. Life without failure is actually…

    ByBySankha Sen Jun 9, 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