I am a 24-year-old guy from a coastal village in nagai. In 2004, when the Tsunami hit our shores, I was just a 2 year old toddler. I don't even remember my mother’s face because that devastating wave took her away from us forever. Our entire world was shattered, and my father was left completely alone with a tiny crying baby in his hands.
In our fishing community, everyone advised my father to get married again. They told him, You are young, you need a woman to manage the house and raise this motherless child. But my dad flatly refused. He said, If another woman comes into the house and treats my child differently even for one day, my soul will die. I will be both father and mother to him.
And he kept his word for the last 22 years.
Being a fisherman is one of the hardest and most dangerous jobs in the world. He had to go deep into the rough sea, sometimes for week, never knowing if he would return to the shore safely. While he was away out at sea fighting the waves to earn for my food and education, his brother’s and sister’s families stepped in. They looked after me like their own child, gave me food, and made sure I was safe until my dad returned. Oru gramamae saendhu dhaan enna valathaanga.
My father never wore new clothes for Christmas. He never spent a single rupee on himself. Every single fish he caught was converted into school fees, books, and a better life for me. He struggled through massive debts, rough seas, and absolute loneliness, but he never let me feel the absence of a mother.
Whenever I missed my mom, he would just hug me tightly with his rough, salt stained hands, and that warmth was enough for me.
Today, I am well settled and earning a good salary. I am able to give him a comfortable life where he doesn't have to risk his life in the sea anymore. But when I look at his wrinkled face, his tired eyes, and his hands that spent a lifetime pulling heavy nets just for my future, my heart completely overflows.
I am writing this confession just to say: Thank you, Appa. You didn't just give me life, you protected it with your everything. And a huge thank you to my periyappa, athai, periyamma, mama, and their families who stood by us when we had nothing. And I miss you amma.
