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Monday, January 20, 2014

my father

my father was a quiet, brave and humble person. somehow i feel that i have inherited these personality traits from him. he died in 1992. standing at approximately five feet sextette inches, he seemed like a big person. in honest-to-god life, he was a shy and namby-pamby guy. like some(prenominal) an(prenominal) of his countrymen, he had an oval spunk with sharp features. his eyes concentre deep in the example were healthy and bright. his reddish face was covered with a well-trimmed beard. his well-unplowed thick moustache completedhis ikon of a typical sikh with a nicely clear turban on his head. i will never hold on the turban incident that happened years ago. i have forgotten all the chit-chat we had, simply the bedtime stories are still vivid in my mind. rustum and shobrah, sakuntala, heer-ranjah, dara singh, subhan chandra bose, mahatma gandhi, mohamad ali jinnah and many other heroes were first introduced to me in these story sessions. at that time, the idea of reality or fantasy had no nerve center on my concentration. what i wanted was a story, an adventure told in an elaborate vogue and laboriously. that he provided superbly until someone kept placing his right alternate in his mouth. my elder comrade had the uniform of doing that. instead of drink his thumb himself, he would expertly typeset it in my fathers mouth. my foster son, kevin does the same thing today.
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some of the other things that i memorialize are not so very much of his words but his deeds. the constant rides to civilise, any school day, every morning and every evening. he would take my elder brother to school in the morning and t! hen continue with his day-to-day duties. in the afternoon, he would take me to school and on his way home, fetch my brother. in the evenings, he would take my brother to school for some surplus mural activities. late in the evenings, he would take both of us back home. we would sit considerably on the iant postman at the back of his bicycle. a a couple of(prenominal) years later, my jr. brother joinde us. he would sit on the front flat bar of the bicycle....If you want to get a full essay, rewrite it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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