You died before I had time | Daily News


You died before I had time

Once Sylvia Plath addresses her father in her poem ‘Daddy’ adding all the emotions of a daughter to her father as same as human beings wind up their breaths to the air. How can even a simple man or a simple woman, imagine or think about the deep connection of a father and a daughter and a bond between a father and a son? But a few days before, some cruel creatures showed the world that there are some men, who have brought some innocent infants to this cruel world, not even knowing the duties or responsibilities of a father.

Becoming a father increases a man’s capacity for love, duty and patience. It opens up another door in a person, a golden door which he might have never imagined of. His children become his greatest joy, happiness and love, even in a way that he could ever think of.

But still a question remains as, how can a man think of suiciding himself while in the process of killing his wife and daughters and sons. A few days ago fifteen people including six children were killed in Sri Lanka. On Friday suspected Islamist militants blew themselves up in a raid, without any fear or hesitation but for the sake of their religion. The explosion occurred in Samthamaruthu, near the hometown of the suspect ringleader of the Easter Sunday attacks which murdered more than 200 people. The footage was shown on the television, which showed burned bodies, inside the house of elders and innocent kids. Among all those footages, all the daughters and fathers paid their attention to one specific footage of a little daughter who was being cured and consoled by an army soldier. According to the records of the police, she is the daughter of one of the suspects who attacked a famous hotel with a suicide bomb.

It says that a father holds his daughter’s hand for a short while, but he holds her heart forever. What is more precious than a father to a daughter and a daughter to a father. With the universal, graceful word ‘love’ a bond between a father and daughter comes with itself. The little pretty daughter, who is not more than five years old sobbed for her father, even at the very minute of suffering by facing the bomb blast. When her father suicided himself, by uttering and muttering the phrases of religion and for the name of ‘Allah’, his daughter cried, while she was lying down in an ambulance and babbling the word ‘Appa’. How can even a father think of suicide for the name of the religion, leaving his greatest happiness, his one and only darling on an with the this? If there’s such a truth in the world, that a child is the most precious gift, given to a father, how can he reach a level in his mind to murder her and to suicide as well?

The sky cried, and stars did not scatter their light and even the wind did not dispuse the sweet smelling of the flowers. Even nature could not bear the cruel circumstance.

In a moment of shivering with shock, and suffering from pain, no other words of her little vocabulary come to her mind, instead of the word ‘Appa’. But she couldn’t understand that her ‘Appa’ was so selfish to leave her in the world because he was too busy finding heaven and the path to see Allah. At the very moment of suffering, no god or angel was there to console her, but only an army soldier with a heart of heaven. In the world, there’s a famous saying that people who don’t believe in heroes, haven’t met their father. Can that little child compare her father to hero? She can’t and she will never. A man’s most vulnerable place is to see him with his daughter because, with her, he seems capable of more human emotions than she will ever share with anyone else. The words ‘cruel’, ‘hypocrisy’ are too good for a man like him, for he forgot and erased his daughter’s smile which was like a blooming flower, her little eyes which were as same as small blue lotuses, her blushing cheeks as roses, her tender skin as the petals of a velvet and her sweetest words. At the last moment of his life, he proved that he was a father just for the name.

A father can never fill up a place of a mother in a daughter’s life. The mother can never fill up a place of a father in a daughter’s life either. When that darling child grows mentally and physically, she may recall the days she spent with her father. She may remember how her father used to carry her, even for a short period of time. Her mother will be never able to till the space in her heart, for she will lament in sorrow in sorrow forever for the death of her father. The poor child may run through the memory lane of her when she sees some other father carrying their children and buying sweet-meats for them, while she will remain alone without any lands to hold her. If she gets a chance to buy her words, in front of a large audience, her father won’t be there to smile of her, or appreciate her. If she is successful in her school life, her father won’t be there, for her to run to his arms and shout ‘Appa! I did it’. On her wedding day, her father won’t be there to wish her the best, to touch her head and say that ‘My darling! My precious! Are learning, but still don’t forget your did father’. On a day, when she feels down as she’s being isolated, her father won’t be there to hold her palm tight and say. ‘I’m with you’. No one in this world can love a girl more than a father. The reason why daughter love their father is because they think that he’s the only person who will never hurt her.

A father is the only safe and secure for a daughter. His absence haunts her. With a father by the side of a daughter, she has nothing to worry about. But without him, the exterior of the world is scary where the demons of cruel and heartless can find out. That little darling has got no one any more to call ‘Appa’ with her darling, cute voice. There won’t be anyone in the world to give her the strength of a father, whenever she is down. There won’t be no one else to say her “Darling your smile is a symphony for me”. In conclusion, I would like to lay my words to ask, has that father found mercy after dying by giving so much pain to his family?

At the time he wanted to have a wife and a child, where was his god? Where was his heart when he saw the last smile of his daughter? Has he got a place near Allah, to sit by side of him and to listen to his prayers, and enjoy his mercy even while giving such a burning pain to his family?

As a young daughter of a wonderful, responsible, loving father, I would like to conclude by laying my words as follows, to show my gratitude to my hero, and to all other ‘Thaththas’, ‘Appas’, and ‘Daddres’ who have no intention of escaping from the life of their family.

This is a world of devils – Where I would be lost

Without your presence – And without your arms

You colour my goals – When others do erase

You raise me up – On your shoulders

To show me the grace – Even when you are in pain.

I may not be best – But you are my best

My greatest strength – My greatest hero

I’m wordless to say – How much I love

But I’m dying to say – ‘So much thank you’.

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