In life, some relationships are such that they don't make noise, but their presence gives strength to the heart. Some loves are not expressed in words, but silently walk along at every turn of time. My father's love is also something like that—silent, simple, but extremely deep.
I often used to silently watch a scene in my house. My brothers would sit with Baba (father), talk to him, laugh, and tell stories of their day. Baba would also smile with them, sometimes give advice, sometimes hide love in a light scolding. In those moments, a closeness was visible, a familiarity that felt good to the heart.
And I... I would stand at a distance, silently watching all this.
The relationship between me and Baba was that of a father and daughter, but the conversation was limited to just greetings. No long conversations, no spontaneous laughter, no sense of belonging that I dreamed of.
Time passed and a void began to form in my heart. I would ask myself, "Doesn't Baba love me? Am I not as important to him as my brothers are?" I never said anything out loud, but in some corner of my heart, this feeling kept pricking that perhaps I am not close to his heart.
Then life opened a chapter that changed all my assumptions.
For some time, we had to go to Baba's place where he worked. I reached him with the same old feeling in my heart—a slight hesitation, an unknown distance. But when we spent those few days there with him, I realized that
Everything I liked was present in the room I was staying in.
At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but then I realized that as soon as something started to run out, it would be quietly brought and placed again. No talk, no expression, no boasting—just quietly taking care, as if it were all perfectly normal.
At that moment, it felt as if a soft light of reality had descended on my heart.
I realized that the love I was searching for in words had been present in action for years. Baba might speak less to me, but he was aware of all my likes and dislikes. He knew what I liked, what made me happy, what taste made me smile.
He was the custodian of my silent wishes, only the way of expressing them was different.
Then for the first time, I realized that every expression of love is not the same.
A mother's love often turns into words, into hugs, into prayers, into tears. But a father's love is often silent. He hides his emotions behind a veil of responsibility. He says "I love you" less, but fulfills that sentence throughout his life.
And those moments spent there became part of the beautiful memories of my life.
Then this truth was also revealed to my heart that every silence is not indifference, sometimes it is a sign of deep love. Every smile is not visible, every love is not heard—some loves are only felt.
Today, even if Baba speaks less, I don't complain. Because now I know that his love is not dependent on words. There is love in his silence. There is love in his actions. And my place is always safe in his heart.
Perhaps every daughter feels at some point that her father expresses less. But the truth is that a father's love is like the roots of a tree—not visible, but supports the whole life.
My Baba is truly a symbol of silent love for me.
That love which makes the paths easier,
Which becomes a shield in difficult times,
And which is never heard, but always felt.
And for me...
My Baba is not just a relationship,
For me, he is a silent love—that walks with my existence every moment. 🌿
O Allah, protect my father and perpetuate his blessings in my life. Amen. 🤍
Written by: Fatima Abul Kalam 🥀