This morning, a call from a friend woke me. Her voice carried the silent ache of absence; she was missing her father, a man no longer in this world. There’s a certain warmth that you only feel more deeply when it’s gone. Her father exuded that kind of presence, she said.

She then sent me a quote from “Father and I”, the story by Swedish Nobel laureate Pär Lagerkvist: “We didn’t talk much, my father and I, but I remember the silence between us as something full of understanding.”

“Today is Father’s Day,” She added.
“But do we need a day to remember someone close to our heart?” I asked.
“Not necessarily, Reena… but certain moments ignite certain memories,” She replied. Silence followed, not awkward, but full, just like the silence in the story.

Then, a message pinged on WhatsApp. Another quote. This time from R.K. Narayan’s My Days: A Memoir: “My father, a school headmaster, was austere but affectionate… I remember how her silence taught me more than her words.”
I understood then how deep my friend’s feeling ran. It wasn’t nostalgia alone, it was something more enduring, more rooted. That moment brought a quiet flood of memories in me too…

The firm grip of a protective hand. The sound of footsteps returning home in the evening. A rare, quiet conversation that said more than any lecture could.

Even now, I can still see the little girl I was; the one a father could understand without needing words. Memories like learning to ride a bicycle, walking to school hand in hand, or being told bedtime stories that linger even now. Yes, these are the treasures we revisit, especially on days like this.
As I once wrote in an article, back in school we looked forward to only a few special days – Independence Day, Republic Day, and Gandhi Jayanthi. Those were the days when we could go to school without textbooks or the sharp gaze of the class teacher. The thrill came from simplicity: a break in routine, a sweet in hand, and the sense of occasion.

Back then, there was no Father’s Day or Mother’s Day. And yet, love and respect were lived daily, not condensed into one date.

Today, in a world that moves faster and feels thinner, these designated ‘days’ often catch our attention through Google Doodles or forwarded messages. Yes, we may not need a day to remember those we love. But in the noise of life, such days can become little lanterns that light up memory lanes — and perhaps, remind us to pause.
Fathers often stand as the quiet foundations of families – steady, mostly unseen, yet vital. Their love is rarely loud. It lives in everyday acts: tightening a schoolbag strap, waiting quietly at a bus stop, or just being there. With time, these small gestures transform into powerful symbols of care that is beyond definition.

The values we inherit from our parents – honesty, respect, kindness – are seldom taught through lectures. They are lived, quietly demonstrated, and woven into the everyday rhythm of our childhoods. Fathers, like mothers, often teach not by instruction but by example – and that remains the most enduring form of learning. Even the self-respect we carry today is, in many ways, a gift from them. We owe them more than we often realise.

As a woman, balancing professional and personal commitments, I now recognise how much I inherited from my parents; not through advice, but through the space they gave me to grow. In a conventional family, that kind of nurturing was not a given. Yet I was lucky to be brought up in a home that valued freedom and understanding.

Unlike today, when fatherhood is becoming more emotionally expressive – from stay-at-home dads to those openly balancing tenderness with strength – our fathers belonged to a time when love was mostly wordless. And yet, looking back, I feel that as we age, we understand our fathers better… their silences, their limitations, their love. And we love them more for it.

Still, on Father’s Day, life doesn’t pause. Most fathers go to work, just like any other day. And most mothers, too, continue to juggle kitchen duties, professional demands, and care. Beyond a message or a forwarded quote, does anything truly shift in their world?

Do we ever ask our parents to take a break, to step out and enjoy something for themselves? How many children, especially those settled far away, invite their parents just to spend time, not as caregivers or babysitters, but simply as guests?

That’s where I begin to question the meaning of these days. What real difference do they make to the lives they are meant to honour? For many, these days have become tokens; rituals of convenience that ease the guilt of year-long neglect.

And yet, I do believe such days should be celebrated – not as obligations, but as reminders. They remind us not to ignore the ones who shaped us; not just our biological parents, but all who stood in paternal roles: uncles, teachers, mentors, grandparents.

A true tribute isn’t found in a single post, call or gift, but in how we carry forward their values, their love and their legacy. Not just on one day but every day.
If we learn to celebrate each moment from within, then every day will carry meaning. Unlike the mass-forwarded messages we barely notice, some days – like this one – still have the power to stir something real, to make the heart quietly throb.