One glorious sunny day Ganga Das was watering the plants in the posh gardens of a school. The heat and dust didn’t seem to affect him.
All of a sudden the Secretary of the school came up to him and said: “Ganga Das, the Principal wants to see you right now”…
The last two words of the Secretary’s words had lots of emphasis on them, as if it was an urgency.
New Story :- Saint who meditated under water!
Ganga Das quickly got up, washed and wiped his hands and headed towards the Principal’s Office.
The walk from the garden to the office seemed never ending, his heart was almost jumping out of his chest. As he walked various thoughts went on in his mind and he was trying to figure out what had he done wrong that the Principle wants to see him urgently…
He was always a sincere worker and never shirked from his duties…
When he got to the Principle’s Office he knocked on the door and said: “Madam, you called me?”
The Principle replied in an authoritative voice: “yes come in” – this made him even more nervous…
The Principle pointed towards a piece of paper that was on the table and said: “Read this”…
Ganga Ram replied: “but Ma’am I am an illiterate person. I can not read English.
please forgive me Ma’am if I have done something wrong…please give me one more chance…
I am forever indebted to you for allowing my daughter to study in this school, free of cost… I could have never ever dreamt of such a life for my child..”
He then broke down crying with his voice trembling…
The Principle replied: “Hold on, Ganga Das you assume a lot…we allowed your daughter because she is very bright and you have been our sincere worker…Let me call a teacher in and she will read it out and translate it to you. This is written by your daughter and I want you to hear what she has said”.
Soon enough a teacher was called and she started reading it, translating each line in Hindi…
“Today we are being asked to write essay on Mother’s Day.
I belong to a small village in Bihar, where medical and education facilities are still far from reality. Many women die every day giving birth. My own mother was one of them too, she could not even hold me in her arms. My father was the first person to hold me…or perhaps the only person to hold me.
The whole family was sad…as I was a girl and I had “caused my mother’s death-my own mother !!!
Just after my mothers death my dad was asked to remarry but he instantly refused. My grandparents forced him by giving all emotional reasons but he didn’t budge.
My grandparents wanted a grandson, they threatened him to remarry or else they would disowned him…However my father didn’t think twice…he left everything, his acres of land, a good living, comfortable house, cattles and everything that counts for a good lifestyle in a village in Bihar.
He came to this huge city with absolutely nothing apart from me in his arms. Life was really tough, he had to work hard day and night to raised me with his love and care.
Now I have started understanding why has he suddenly developed a disliking things that I would just love to eat. When there was only one piece left on the plate….he would always say that he didn’t like it and I would finish it considering that he does not like it….but now since I am growing up older and hence realizing the reasons of his sacrifice.
He gave me the best possible comforts beyond his capabilities and capacity.
This school gave him a shelter, respect and the biggest gift of all – an admission to the school for his daughter…
~ If Mothers care and love is definition of mother…then my father definitely fits in there.
~ If compassion is defination of being a mother, than my father fits in that category as well…
~ If personal sacrifices define a mother, than my father dominates this category.
~ If a mother is made of love, care sacrifice and compassion…THEN MY FATHER IS THE BEST MOTHER ON EARTH.
Today on Mother’s Day, I would like to wish my father for being the best parent on earth…I salute him and say it with pride that the hardworking gardener working in this school is my father.
I know I may fail this essay test after my teacher reads this – but this would be a very small price I could pay towards a tribute to the selfless love of my father.
There was a deafening silence in the room… all you could hear was Ganga Das sobbing silently….
The harsh sun could not wet his clothes with sweat but soft words of his daughter had soaked his chest with tears….he was standing there with hands folded..
He took the paper from teacher’s hands… held it close to his heart and continued to cry.
The Principal suddenly got up and offered him glass of water and a chair and said something and strangely the crispness of her voice was taken over by a surprising warmth and sweetness….
“Ganga Das…your daughter has been given 10/10 marks for this essay…This is the best essay ever written about Mother’s Day in the history of this school. We will be having the Mother’s Day grand event tomorrow and the whole School Management has made a decision to invite you as a Chief Guest for this event…
This is just to honour for all the love and sacrifice that a man can do to raise his children and to show that a person doesnot necessarily be a woman to become perfect parent…
And this is just to acknowledge, reinforce and appreciate the strong belief of your daughter in you, to make her feel proud…to make the entire school feel proud that we have on of the best parent on this world as stated by your daughter.”
Story : Story of Jata Bharatha
“You are among the true gardner, who not only look after the gardens, but also believe in nurturing the most precious flower of their life in such a beautiful manner….”
“So Ganga Das, will you be our Chief Guest for the event because you have proved a father can also be a mother?”
Such an emotional story..we can never repay the sacrifices made by our parents …
Hi Dhairya veer. very nice story.
I would like to translate this story into telugu so that it will reach to more people. i need your permission.
Please let me know if you have any objection. I am waiting for your reply.
yes, you can translate but please add reference link to this page