THE PENNY PUB
Power of Passion — From One Generation to Another
Dreams of my father
I was eager to pen down my thoughts for this month’s prompt. How can one not be passionate about writing regarding one’s passion?
Yet as I sat down, I found it difficult to pinpoint a single quantifiable factor that keeps me going! As I fidgeted around with my thoughts, an inward fear overcame me. Am I passionate about anything?
In a moment of desperation, I recollected a conversation I had had with my father, not too long ago. I was seeing him after a long time — living apart in different countries doesn’t help.
I had just come back after a long day at work. As I walked into my house, I saw my father sitting down with my kids with a bunch of books spread around them. He had a dictionary in his hand and was explaining on how best to use it. Both my five and eight-year-olds were listening intently, their eyes fixed on their grandpa.
My father is well into his seventies but I have never seen him exhausted. His liveliness, energy, and level of motivation match those of a thirty-year-old. He had very humble beginnings orphaned at a young age, he began his professional career as a laborer and eventually had a distinguished career in the Navy.
What kept him going? His dreams!
On a hot summer day in a busy metropolis, a sixteen-year-old boy sat at a construction site. He was busy breaking some stones using his hammer — with each stroke, he could feel the pain in his young palms. His hungry stomach growled once more, reminding him that he had had no food that day — he licked his parched lips and gazed at the high school across the road.
He could see students — most of them his age — walking out, busy gossiping with their friends. He could see their shining clothes and content faces and could hear their jovial chatter.
What makes them different from me? Why is it that they get to wear clean clothes and go to school? He stared at his hands full of blisters and gazed at his worn-out clothes. Education is what differentiates us. That day he dreamed of becoming like these young boys — I would wear clean clothes and carry my books to school one day! The little boy kept dreaming and worked harder than ever to make those dreams come true.
Fast forward five years — he was now in the Navy, having completed his high school. The life on board ships was a grind — cleaning the guns, keeping the deck shining, and standing long hours on watch. He had never shied away from hard work but he felt that he was destined for something bigger.
He would look up to his officers; they were the ones who had real authority while the rest of the crew followed orders. The officers had better quarters, commanded more respect, and made decisions. I want to be like them. I want to be an Officer in the Navy.
“You need a college degree to become an officer,” one of his shipmates had told him. So now he dreamt of getting a college degree. For the next six years, he was juggling life on board a ship, supporting a growing family and a college education. It took him six years instead of four to get his college degree but he got there. All this while he kept going because he followed his dreams passionately.
His passion has always inspired me and prompted me to follow in his footsteps. While my journey was less arduous — thanks to his achievements — his passion has always been a beacon for me.
What kept me going through various highs and lows was the astute example of passion and motivation that he had set forth. It still keeps me going.
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