A father’s sacrifice, and love for Maruti 800

My Dad My Hero 
By Mayborn Lyngdoh R 

My dad is a funny guy, 
He wears his weird eccentric smile every time he drives a car, 
A kind of schmuck of a certain kind of achievement. 
He wears an Olympic medal with every over-taking, 
Never missing a thank you horn, “Pom-pom” of hospitality.  

Back then – 
I would be a little embarrassed at his weird antics 
(especially with a stranger in the back seat) 
It took me a year or two to comprehend the uncanny mystery – 
For me, driving was as normal as brushing my teeth in the morning,  
But to him, it’s an achievement! 

It took him forty-four years to own a car wholeheartedly.  
I was seventeen when we got ourselves a Maruti 800. 
He would not let me learn to drive, as I was a quick learner. 
“It’s shameful if a son learns how to drive and a father does not.” He said. 
I was vexed to the core – 
“I’m not getting my driver’s licence until I own a car.” 

Time moulded the child to a man, 
As I learned to appreciate him more with love. 
There was a time when we did not have much, but we always had enough. 
Mei would often tell us, “Your dad is a good man.” 
He has always loved people more than himself.  
Even our earliest scooter belonged more to our neighbours than to him. 

He’s in his ripeful middle-age; younger than ever. 
He still gets excited every time he overtakes, 
And a thank you horn, “Pom-Pom” not ceasing to follow.  
The only difference is that he’s no longer jealous when I drive. 
I now imitate his antics, and there he is, blushing like a tomato 
with a long self-explanatory speech and laughing it off. 

I am proud of a lot of things – 
My dad is my biggest achievement, and Mei is his. 

This poem is also available in spoken word form on Youtube: