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 sincere life, he was a shy and namby-pamby guy. like umteen an(prenominal) of his countrymen, he had an oval spunk with sharp features. his eyes lie deep in the caseful were healthy and bright. his reddish face was covered with a well-trimmed beard. his well-unplowed thick moustache completedhis cinema of a typical sikh with a nicely keen turban on his head. i will never finish the turban incident that happened years ago. i have forget 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 new(prenominal) heroes were first introduced to me in these story sessions. at that time, the idea of reality or fantasy had no shopping center on my concentration. what i wanted was a story, an adventure told in an elaborate charge and laboriously. that he provided superbly until someone kept placing his right alternate in his mouth. my elder chum had the riding habit of doing that. instead of drink his thumb himself, he would expertly status it in my fathers mouth. my foster son, kevin does the same thing today.

some of the other things that i memorialize are not so untold of his words but his deeds. the constant rides to educate, all(prenominal) school day, every morning and every evening. he would take my el der brother to school in the morning and the! n continue with his cursory 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 well on the iant postman at the back of his bicycle. a few 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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