This weekend, we celebrate daughter’s day with some of the renowned authors from Tricity’s literary circle. These authors express their love and affection towards their daughters and highlight the importance of these angels sent from heaven who fill the hearts with unconditional love.
We wish all our readers a very happy international daughter’s day. We hope you’ll enjoy reading this literary marvel!
Daughters Are Sanguine and Special
By: Dr. Ritu Kamra Kumar
Daughters are sanguine & special
In my mellowing years, I have been blessed with a daughter
Her giggles & guffaws infuse glee in our courtyard
Aww! She is beautiful, benign and has a golden heart
Tender & full of warmth, worthy in her choices
Empowered with values, illustrious like moon, she rejoices
Epitome of pristine charm & creativity
Blessed is she with Divine generosity
Her simplicity, subtle sensitivity & soft gaze
Emits aroma of love & liveliness instilled with grace
Our bundle of joy, a rare combination of intrinsic traits
Jingle of her bangles & sheen of her ‘sindoor’ makes our home a heavenly place
Attired in crimson brocades with gossamer golden
She entered our home spreading hues of love like river merging in Ocean
Stars in her eyes, spring in steps, with placid pride she beams
She is ‘Lakshmi’ of our abode, our dearest son’s queen.
Sparkling spring spreads delight in nature’s resonant symphony
Welcome dear Nancy, you’re love’s fragrance sweet honey bunny!!
From A Mother to Her Daughter
By: Narinder Jit Kaur
Oh, my little daughter, you are a divine gift bestowed upon me to fill my heart and home with heavenly bliss and blessing!
As you sleep in my arms, still basking in your utopian world, I can see a thousand dreams lurking behind these sparkling eyes. I wish I could gather these dreams in cotton wool like precious gems before they are shattered at the hands of the cruel world, as did mine.
With these soft pink fingers that you wrap around mine, a current of your innocence passes through my body. With these tight fingers, you put yourself into the hands of your mother, to mold you, to nurture you in whatever way she wants. Such is your faith in your mother. Not only this, this firm grip is a promise that you make to the mother, ‘I’ll never leave you alone in your hard times. I’ll hold your hand whenever you need me, even in old age when your energies will fail you.’
As you grow up, life will throw up many shocking challenges for you. It is a bumpy ride for a girl and the journey is full of ups and downs, blind alleys, and sudden sharp turns. The world would try to pull you down, abuse you, point fingers of suspicion at you, and question your courage, conviction, and intelligence. Your clothes and get up, your activities, and your connections will all be under the scanner.
I wish you to be strong, and confident, yet kind and sympathetic. Let gentle wisdom and reason guide you. May all the stepping stones you touch become milestones for other young girls to follow. I’m sure your potential and talent will prove to the world that the sky’s the limit for you.
‘A daughter is a ray of sunshine that fills your home with happiness and laughter, who has the potential to make her parents proud of her.’
The Sunshine Whose Warmth Enlivens Our Home!
By: Dr. Rana Preet Gill
My daughter is like sunshine whose warmth enlivens our home. Her laughter pervades all corners, knocking the obnoxious odour of sadness if at all it seeps in. Such are the joys of having a daughter at home. Blessed are those who have caring, loving daughters at home.
As a young mother, I was often worried about being not a perfect mother to my daughter. If she fell sick, I would blame myself, if she hurt herself again, I would berate myself for lack of vigilance. And despite full-proof plans of a good diet and keeping a watchful eye my daughter got down with fevers, injuries, infections. An arm lacerated, a leg scratched she would pull up her socks and yet, smile.
“It’s okay mamma, it’s not your fault!! ” She told me once.
We, the hyperventilating mothers often try to pitch the perfect outcome for our children. I learnt through my daughter that indeed it was not my fault every time. And no matter how precocious we get, children go through it all. And they emerge stronger out of it.
Now when my daughter is about to hit the teens I am again besieged by some unspoken fears. But then I know that this will not work the way I want it to. My censorship or my rules will be ineffective. There will be some falls, some heartaches before she learns to handle things on her own. Perhaps this will be the only way to empower her, by letting go.
On this daughter’s day, I would give a shout out to all the mothers to let their daughters learn on their own. Let them empower themselves. Show them the way but don’t hold hands, love them but don’t tether them with the same love, guide them yet don’t curtail their freedom. Let them be their own person. All they need is unmitigated support and a lot of love. So be there for that!
My Daughter Ayesha
By: Lily Swarn
The tiny pink hand, with its fragile, slender fingers, curled up into a tight determined fist, and a shock of dense black hair, was my first glimpse, of my firstborn, a daughter, by God’s grace. Little did I know, on that dramatic, stormy night, with its deafening hailstones, pelting on the red roofs of the little nursing home, in Sacred Heart Dalhousie, that a steely bond had already been forged. As the clock struck the midnight hour, my life changed in a flash. A whole new ‘me’ emerged.
The little, precious, bundle that we took home, was going to make me a better human, merely by being. The journey began from the nappies drying across the wood fire, in the hill house and came to this day where there is a subtle rumbling of a role reversal.
She gnashes and grinds her teeth at my technologically challenged fingers, which become thumbs in front of gadgets. Uncannily, it is in almost the same way that I did, when she left milk in her glass. She now calls on FaceTime unfailingly, to check on my wellbeing, from across the oceans where she now dwells; quite like I had stealthily peeped, to check if she had finally dozed off, as a busy old tiny-tot.
The happy ritual of singing folk songs in shrieky tones, and dancing the “giddha” dance, to bribe her to finish her food has now shifted to her cheering me up, instead, with the promise of some barbecued ribs. This beautiful girl in scrubs is not playing “doctor-doctor” with her plastic toys. She studied with a ferocious fervour to be the wise dentist and academician that she is. The brilliant spark, that lit up my life with her girlish prattle and becoming ways, went on to do me proud, in more ways than one. These lines are for you, my daughter, my rock star “maanvaan te dhiyaan di dosti, kitte tuttdi hai keheraan de naal.”
Well, she may be somewhat like me sometimes, when she lets out an occasional, unladylike guffaw, but that is not the norm. She may have my tone of voice on the phone, and she may enunciate her vowels as I taught her, but she is more calm, collected and far more “put-together”, I think they call it.
“Tere mehlaan de vich vich ve guddiyaan kaun khede? Ikk itt puttaan devaan dheeye ghar jaa appne…” The father of a daughter should “pick up that baby of his and hold her tight, to set the moon on the edge of her crib and to hang her name up in the stars.” “Nanhi kali, sone chali, hawa dhheere aana…”
By: Dimple Datta
Dancing gracefully to the tunes of life,
Rising above the Obnoxious strife,
My little birdie endeavours to fly high.
Ready to take down struggle,
She gives impediments a juggle,
A tough nut to crack ,
Dumps negativity in a sack.
Agonised she rumbles,
Swerving thoughts cause her pain,
Fear of failure ensembles in chain,
But she gives fear a fear,
Twitches it, then boxes its ear.
Wears excitement on her sleeves – embraces adventure,
Compassion and enthusiasm envelope all her ventures,
Eveready to try hand at new things,
She gives herself centurion wings.
Singing melodiously the songs of life,
Thriving successfully in the challenging strife,
My little birdie is shining bright.
Embolden your daughters,
Give them wings of fire,
Unleash their inner strength,
And channelize their ire,
Rising above the clouds of struggle,
They will, then, fly higher and higher.