I was almost in tears. Seeing my father behind the glass-pane that seperated him from me. He was asleep in the half reclining bed, in the intensive care cardiac unit. But I knew I had to be strong. My mother was standing next to me, in tears. She held my hands so tight. I could feel the sorrow. Every bit of it.

It was that morning my mother had called me up. The words that came across from the otherside of the phone, shocked me. Father is serious, had a heart attack, and he is in ICU. I did not know what to do, or what to say. Millions of thoughts flew across the mind. Tears refrained from falling down. I rushed to the airport. The flight was to take off in another fortyfive minutes. That gave me ample time to cry off my sorrows. I tried calling up a few of my dearest friends. Couldn't talk at all. I had to cut the call in between as my tears overpowered my words.I reached the hospital by evening. By the time, my father had crossed the river and was now almost near, at a hand's reach from the island of safety. I had a word or two with his consultant cardiologist. He told my, "In your father's case, he never missed the bus. But he just got delayed in between. That is all!!". I didn't know what to make out of it.

Finally after a week, and an angioplasty surgery later, my father is now doing fine. A little rest, a break from his office pressures; that is all what he requires right now.

The kind of psychological impact it had on me was totally different. I had the feeling that I am still behaving like a kid under the protective wings of my father. Now I can't transfer any of my concerns to him. And finally there was one of the major decision which I had to take, without my father's intervention. That was about his surgery - where it had to be done? Would some other hospital be better than this. Finally after the surgery, I felt that I had taken a decision about which my father would never have to regret. Thank heavens!!