When I was little, I was addicted. Addicted to cartoons and to Cartoon Network. I still remember how I waited all day to watch ‘Justice League’ which used to air at 9 pm Mon-Sat ‘only on Cartoon Network’. Watching the show used to get me surged with some sort of unknown adrenaline. People in fancy costumes saving other people. They were strong, strategic and intelligent. They saved the lives of thousands of people. Since then I had had a strong fascination towards Superheroes. As I wasn’t from any other planet or even didn’t get hit by lightning, so I gave up the hope of being a Superhero. But I always wanted to meet one. Then I was cursed, as everyone is. Cursed with the curse of – growing up. That’s when I understood Superheroes are not real. But always I had this voice in my head that shouted out – ‘Superheroes are Real’.
Now when I look back, I think, “Was I right?” Because I realize that there was someone. Someone who could be termed as a ‘Superhero’. No, he didn’t have the conventional fancy uniform. He didn’t wear a cape. He used to wear a light blue uniform of the Bangladesh Air Force. Unlike Superheroes he didn’t save the lives of random people everyday and forget whom they saved. Rather he would have the guts to risk his life if he needed to save the lives of a selected group of people. He kept those same people alive every single day. He couldn’t fly, but when I was little he used to take me on his lap and heave me up in the air. Silly cute little me used to think I was flying. He couldn’t run faster than light but he did teach me how to walk. He was no strategic detective, but he seemed to have a fix to all of my problems. He didn’t save the Earth daily from alien species but he did make sure I was safe from all mundane threats. I didn’t understand so much then because his emotions were quite confusing. Like, whenever I got hurt while riding my cycle or while playing, he used to scold me. Whenever I achieved something, be it a good result or a sports achievement he used to have a broad smile but his eyes would be soaked in tears. He put on such a rough and tough aura but whenever I used to leave home for Cadet College he used to cry like a baby.
Now I realize those confusing emotions. Whenever I got hurt he used to scold me so that I would remain careful next time though inside, he was more upset than I was. Those tears after every achievement were the tears of pride. Whenever I left home he felt like I was taking a part of him with me. Now I realize I was right. ‘Superheroes are Real’. Mine could be compared to no other, mine was none but my Father.
This ‘mine’ though isn’t restricted to me. This ‘mine’ is within all of us. And all those fathers are nothing less than superheroes.
I love you, Dad.