My dad was admitted the previous night at about midnight. His preliminary check-up's were done and his surgery was to be done next day. I was beside him. We talked for some while and agreed to sleep. The night didn't let us sleep. We slept in bits. I woke up and made my dad ready before the operation. He was advised not to have anything. He regularly had tobacco and that day he was looking at me helplessly. I could understand the urge in him and I arranged for his tobacco. He was delighted. I shouldn't have done that but I couldn't resist too. The doctor came and announced. We were both afraid. We were thousands of miles away from home and there was nobody beside who could console me. I was fighting thousands of negative vibes inside me while he was being taken inside. I gave up everything and plugged in my headphone. Music was always my saviour. I tried to go for my favorite playlist but couldn't. I was getting calls from my mother whether everything was fine or not. Even if I had no idea of what was going on inside I kept telling her that everything was fine. Nobody from my paternal kin bothered to give a call. The moment when I needed someone there wasn't anyone to hold me firm from falling. I got plenty of calls from materal kins and close friends. After three hours they came to announce that his operation was successful but I wasn't allowed to meet him. I went to every extent of requesting but the lady turned no ears. I was pushed off by the guard outside the operation theatre. Meanwhile I conveyed everything to everyone who was concerned. We belong to Hindu faith but there were few people who were praying in the village Mosque when my father's operation was going on. Probably that had kept him alive. After two hours I went inside after bargaining a succesful deal with the guard. Dad was lying senseless in the recovery room. I came outside and again made another succesful attempt inside after some time. This time, he was awake. He smiled at me and waved his hand. He was alive and perhaps that was what he was trying to convey me. He asked me show my watch. He saw the time. I was again pushed outside. I made it inside again after two hours. By that time, I was a pro in getting inside and was also used to being thrown outside. Dad's oxygen mask was removed and he wanted to drink something. I approached the doctor and she gave him a cup of warm tea and also threw me outside. I again went it after two hours and this time Dad caught hold of me and he started walking. He walked for sometime inside the recovery room. This time I was not thrown outside and instead the doctors called me up to say that usually patients took at least 24 hours to walk after such a major surgery and Dad was walking withing 6 hours. It was never so easy to hold him away from freedom and even this time they could but only for mere 6 hours. They allowed Dad back to hospital room from the recovery room. The doctor came late night to ask if everything was alright. To their surprise, Dad asked the doctor about his native and children. Dad also asked him to arrange for some good food as he was hungry. Soon there was idli and rice for him. He insisted me on having one idli too. He was hungry but he knew I was hungry too. I knew he didn't walk in the 6th hour itself to prove anything to anybody but only to let me know that I had nothing to worry. We woke up at 3 am again. He wanted to go for a stroll in the floor itself. Initially I held his hand, not firmly but just as a support. He left the grip away and started walking on himself. We saw a very very fat man who was probably thrice as fat as me. Just then after he walked away Dad started with the old nursery poem Humpty Dumpty. We laughed out loud. The nurses too heard us but they were too amused to see a man laughing just after hours of such an operation. Dad died after twenty two days. He left with a message that one should never stay away from laughter. He believed in sharing happiness.
