Every family has its own story, and mine truly began on the day I held my father’s hand as he took his final breath. In that quiet and painful moment, his last words to me were simple yet powerful: “Take care of the family.” Those words changed everything. From that moment onward, I was no longer just a son, I became the guardian of the family.
In many Indian families, the eldest son carries a special responsibility. It is an unspoken rule that the first son must be strong. He cannot easily show his tears or his fears. Instead, he learns to carry the weight of responsibility with silent strength. In many ways, every eldest son becomes a warrior the day life demands it.
My father was my hero from the very beginning. Like many fathers in traditional Indian households, he was strict. Sometimes it felt as though he ruled the house like a movie dictator. Discipline was important to him, and the famous Malaysian rotan was occasionally his tool to shape us into better people. Yet behind that strictness was a man full of love. After scolding or punishing us, he would often bring home something special, good food or a small treat and patiently explain why he did it. His goal was never to hurt us, but to build discipline and character.
No matter how big the quarrels or mistakes were, he always stood behind me. He believed in me even before I believed in myself.
My father worked tirelessly as a technician. Many nights he took overtime shifts, surrounded by machines and chemicals, just so that my siblings and I could attend good tuition classes and even martial arts lessons. The long hours slowly took a toll on his health, eventually forcing him to stop working. Yet even then, he never stopped trying to provide for us.
He never traveled overseas. He never spent money on entertainment for himself. His only small hobby was buying lottery numbers and trying his luck. If he won anything, it was always spent on the family.
What mattered most to him was our happiness and education. One thing that made my father truly special was that he did not only support my education and career, but also my spiritual journey. From a young age, he encouraged my interest in spirituality and always reminded me that life is not only about material success but also about inner growth. When I began exploring deeper spiritual teachings, he stood firmly behind me and supported my search for meaning and purpose. In fact, he was the one who encouraged and helped me in the journey that eventually led me to find my living Guru. For him, spirituality was the highest path a person could walk. He always told me that achieving success in life was important, but achieving the final goal of spirituality self-realization and inner peace was even greater. Knowing that he believed in my spiritual path gave me strength, and even today I carry that blessing in my heart as I continue walking the journey he so deeply wished for me to fulfil.
Sometimes love and guidance do not come through long lectures they come through sacrifice.
One memory stays deeply in my heart. When I was 16 years old, I gave a speech on the topic of Spirituality and Science in Hinduism at Baba Centre in Melaka. When we returned home that day, my father quietly told my mother, “He has grown up so fast. One day he will become the backbone of this family.”
Those words touched me deeply.
Life moved on quickly. As I focused on my studies and career, our conversations became fewer. But he was always there, silently watching my progress and proudly speaking about me to others.
Then his health began to decline. Even with kidney problems, he forced himself to attend my Master’s graduation.
The day I feared most eventually arrived.
It was his birthday. I called him at midnight to wish him. He gently asked if I could come home if I had time, but I was too busy with work. Later that morning, my brother called saying they were rushing him to the hospital.
When I arrived, he was already brain dead after a massive heart attack.
I held his hand as the doctors explained that even if he survived, he would remain bedridden. Slowly, his heartbeat faded. It felt as though he had waited just long enough for me to arrive.
He left this world on the same date he was born.
That moment changed my life forever.
I resigned from my job in Kuala Lumpur and returned to my hometown to take care of my family. The pay is lower, but my heart is at peace. Being with my family reminds me that my father still lives through me.
Yes, there is regret that I did not spend enough time with him. But perhaps one day, when I have a son of my own, I will understand him even more and maybe through that, a part of me will heal.
So my small advice to everyone is this: family comes first. A father is irreplaceable. Spend time with them while you still can.
Life moves in a cycle. Do not wait until it becomes a regret.
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