Skip to main content

A soldier of love

This post is a part of #Soldierforwomen in association with

It was one of those quiet days without any unanticipated happenings or guests at home. I was slouching onto the sofa, sipping honey nectar like coffee from my favorite mug. I was preoccupied with something in my mind, rather, someone. It had been so many months since I had put in a “HI” to him. I was so preoccupied with my own life here in Chennai that I had forgotten to put in a greeting for one of my childhood super heroes.

I am not indicating this post to my dearest dad, who with no doubt, was my greatest hero and companion throughout my childhood. I am writing this post for someone else who also made my childhood memorable, who made me feel special like I was the little girl of his life, my uncle.

I could remember with pristine clarity, the days when I used to go and stay at his one bed-roomed apartment in Mylapore which had the love for many such little girls like me. At my arrival, he used to embrace me with such love and happiness and take me straight to the beach to have fun jumping over the waves which caressed the shore. He would sit with me to build sand castles on the coarse sands of the beach and we used to spend much time on playing throw ball very early in the morning.

I brimmed teeth to teeth when I recollected some of my memories with him, his tiny acts of love which brought me bouts of joy and memories. I tend to remember the crayon book he bought me the minute I had asked for it. The dinosaur shaped crayon book may have not lasted materially, but I still remember and cherish the immense joy that brimmed in my heart when he held up the book for my eyes to relish in happiness.

I am bound to include this to my dear readers that he had never lost even a little love for me in spite of having such an affable daughter himself. He used to remember each of my final examinations at school and gift me with a wonderful pen and wish me ‘all the best’ without fail. Whenever I lose touch with him, he calls me up and says “It has been such a long time since I talked to you gundu.” And my heart swells up with joy whenever he calls to talk to me over phone.

 There were times when I had felt so jealous to not be his daughter and I wonder his capability of being such an adorable and understanding father to my little sister. Whenever, he calls my tiny brother “Bhadawa!” and embraces him with infinite love, I feel like going back to being his little Gaju once again.

I sincerely feel he is my best soldier as he protected me from the pangs of being “Unloved” besides receiving my parents’ affection and made me feel so special and adorable. He has also been such a sincere and understanding man in my sister’s and aunt’s lives thereby playing his perfect part as a soldier for women, at heart.

I take this contest as an opportunity to thank and honor my beloved “Shankar chithapa” for playing such an essential part in my life and always being such a wonderful person to me.


  1. very sweet of you gayathree to remember Sankar Chithapa's love for you as his daughter and bring it out in public. welldone.


Post a Comment

Speak your mind

Popular posts from this blog

Getting back to being Ms. Beautiful braid!

It was the time when my mom used to struggle for time. She would wake up early in the morning with her hair as beautifully braided as ever and I would be shook awake to have that traditional head massage with a mixture of hot coconut and castor oil with the extracts of sun-dried hibiscus, henna and fenugreek. After I sleepily shampoo my hair followed by the massage, my mom would pat it dry with a thin towel and would carefully part my hair into sections to try different types of braids on my curly but soft hair.

As she tamed my dense and curly hair into braids of every possible beauty, I would sit there bored with the palm of my hands supporting my cheek. In spite of lack of time, my mother made it a point to wake up ten minutes early everyday just to make time for the wonderful braids that her fingers weaved with my hair. After she finished with the styling, I would gaze at my own self in the mirror and brim at her with pride on my face.

I would say occasionally, "Maa, you can b…


                                                                    Image: Internet
If you had missed the previous chapters of the story: Click here Chapter 1Chapter 2


It was the fall again, they had gone for a stroll outside the university campus into the beautiful park where snowy trees surrounded the white spread and there were very few passers-by due to the freezing chill.
The two of them hovered around enjoying the beauty carpeted around them. Maureen had already gone down, working her gloved hands into the snowy layers. She started rolling a huge ice ball with a grin on her pink face. Steve looked at her dazed by the tinkle of her eyes and the jingle that her laughter spread in his heart.  The moist wind ruffled her blond hair, some of which fell onto her face like a wave onto the shores.
Steve just stood there with his hands folded, his lips curved into a mesmerizing smile and his eyebrows were arched in sheer amazement of what was happening to him that moment.   He felt…

Being humane

Every dawn dooms with wail

I never opine but in my daze,

For I am human, humane.

Image courtesy: Internet