The feeling that i call: Papa.

So i am sitting on that highly uncomfortable chair in front of my surgical specialist, and he tells me the reason behind every tremor in my muscles and incessant fatigue in my arm which is, infact, one diabolical reason i.e. ANXIETY. I laugh. And look at my father to join me. But when i turn around, i see a change in atmosphere. He's not laughing, but tiny droplets of sweat across his gray hairs coming all together near his eyelids making a rivulet so immense, that i realize that he's gone worried. He gives me that look which, so easily comprehended, tells me that i have to stop making a fool of myself now. He starts conversing with my doctor deliriously. Asking for all sort of drugs and antibiotics and precautions that i should take. I don't get anything, cause anxiety is one thing always accompanying us all the time regard to relationships, academics, inferiority, enigma and money. Then why is he being so unnecessarily upset? He, though, continues asking question and inquiring from my doctor, the reason behind my illness and stress.

Doctor Sahab, What sort of diet should she have?
Do you suggest tonics?
Does she have to stop taking carbonated drinks?
Which pillow should i get her to give her arm the rest at maximum?
Talk continues. I am blurred. Talk ends.
Muggie, lets go.

And i follow him out. When i step into the hallway full of people waiting for their turn to see the doctor, under my already too emotional-cum-weird state, i start counting number of fathers waiting along with their boys and girls, watching me just like i am watching them. Fathers with kids on their laps, daughters sitting beside, hands on shoulders, caressing and waiting. Waiting all day just for their blood. Their children. Looking at them, i still do not not realize what i did, minutes later.

Leaving the most hated place called Hospital, i get into my car and still wondering what actually is making me think too much. Am i really stressed? No. Idiot. While Papa drives, i look at him and ask him if something is worrying him but he doesn't talk. I know what he is thinking. He's thinking:

Where can i get her Orange juices ke dabbe?
At 11 i will switch off internet so she can sleep.
Okay, her tablet is to be taken a 8. Sharp 8.
WHY THE HELL IS SHE STRESSED? Leave it.
Iss ke kamrey ka AC theek karwa deta hun.

Yes i know my dad. To break the much accumulated ice, i say "Papa, i need that elbow strip, it comforts the elbow alot". Without a second thought he stops at the first pharmacy that comes in the way. We go in and the elbow cap is there. At counter, while i ask him how much does the cap cost, he says 200. I am wonder struck, cause last time it was just 100. I don't think Papa would pay 200 for such a strip so i tell him to leave. But he stops at the counter, takes out his saadiyon purana wallet, pay him 200 and hands me over the elbow cap. I look at him, and i discover exactly what i was feeling minutes ago:

I AM BLESSED TO HAVE A FATHER LIKE HIM.