In my Father’s Garden
My Dad has a garden in the midst of yellow, barren desert. The desert is dry and greedy. It desires my Father’s garden relentlessly.
My Dad loves his garden. He does not let the selfish desert creep into his green garden. He raises high brick wall around it. To guard between the yellow desert and the deep green trees.
The deep green trees inside the garden grow all kinds of fruits. Apples, oranges, lemons, pomegranates and mangoes. My Father takes superb care of the trees. And they bend their hands full of fruits over his head and keep Him humming company.
My Dad abides in the garden. He is there from the dim morning till the evening blackness. He never leaves it. He also does not not pick the fruits of the deep green trees, to exchange them against clinging cash in the market place. He grants the ripe fruits to the little birds. They rejoice of all the pink, yellow, orange and red fruits. The whole garden, its deep green trees, moist soil, white brick wall and colorful fruits belong to them. They chirp out of gratitude without contemplating what a refuge they have found in my Dad’s garden.
My father smiles. He loves his garden.
And I love my Dad.
(Tribute to my both Dads – Earthly and Heavenly)