If our middle-class world is a novel, Dad is a guest character. How many poems, stories, novels we have about mother. But Dad? There are even mom prayer hotels. There is no father's prayer hotel. I also saw the transport of mother's prayers. On the bus-truck, 'Mother' is written in big letters. As much emotion as I create the word mother, the word father is a little flawed! Dad is like the outer wall of the house. Daisara takes care of the color once in four or five years. But this wall is all storm-dust; Sun-rain-winter-swell takes to get the book. As much as he is happy to protect everyone inside. Even at most family celebrations, it is as if the father is a silent spectator sitting in a distant chair. But one day ... one day the whole family is excited about my father, one day he is in the center of all attention. One day all the emotions, tears with him. But nothing touched him that day. That day he closed his eyes. The smile of steadfast dependence on the face, the smile that is mixed with the message of fearing everyone even in the most difficult day of the family. Even if I go to that bed of eternal sleep, my father wants to give fear to everyone, what is the fear, I am here! As soon as the father left, a huge, sudden emptiness suddenly appeared. As soon as the father left, we realized what a great wall it was. The greatness of something big can be felt only when it is far away. Baba is like that Himalayas. And maybe that day we will realize what nonsense we have done. There were at least two Eid hugs every year to find a way to hug!