4 min readChandigarhMay 31, 2026 02:50 PM IST
First published on: May 31, 2026 at 02:50 PM IST
Written by Priya S Tandon
The Hindus believe in Pitri Rinn: the sacred debt we owe our fathers for the gift of human life. Down memory lane, during a visit to our family farm in village Siasatpur, my father showed us an old man crafting utensils. He was gently beating an iron pot with a hammer, his other hand placed just beneath the spot he was striking.
With that supportive hand, he gauged and adjusted the force of each blow to shape a perfect handi. And this, I realised, is exactly what fathers do. They may appear stern in the interest of discipline , even strict or quick to correct us, yet they shield us from the world. Fathers may use the carrot-and-stick approach themselves, but they will not allow others to raise a hand against their children.
When my father was a young lawyer in the 1960s, an elderly man from a village in Haryana approached him for help in a land dispute. After drafting the petition, my father suggested he step out and explore the newly built, beautiful city of Chandigarh. Our home was in Sector 8.
The next day, my father asked him about the evening. In his simple, rustic manner, the man replied: “Main chowk mein khada tha. Koi ingge bagh reha tha, koi ungge bhag reha tha. Mannhe samajh nahi aayi, bhai kidher jaa rahe ho? Itni jaldi ki baat ki hai?” He had stood at a roundabout on Madhya Marg, watching cars and two-wheelers zip around in circles. He could not understand where everyone was rushing to or why.
That innocent observation stayed with my father. When we pause to reflect on it, we see our own lives mirrored in the villager’s confusion. Everyone seems in a frantic hurry to achieve more and more. But is this the true purpose of human birth? The soul, after all, is merely a witness to the actions of the gross body. In the rush of modern life, we must stop and ask ourselves whether we are moving toward the real goal of our existence.
All fathers make profound sacrifices for their children. While the role of mothers is often celebrated, fathers’ quiet contributions frequently go unsung. A poem I recently came across touched a deep chord:
“If one day my voice goes quiet and I can’t guide you like before,
If my hands tremble with age and I can’t hold you anymore,
Please don’t think I stopped loving you — I just ran out of strength, not care.
I tried to build a life for you, even when life wasn’t fair.
There were nights I stayed silent, hiding storms behind a smile,
Just to make your world feel safe, even for a little while.
If I ever failed your dreams, forgive the man I tried to be,
Because everything I had in me … I gave it all to you, endlessly.”
My father, Justice M M Punchhi, the 28th Chief Justice of India, taught us by example how to live a life of honesty, integrity, and discipline. A man of letters, he encouraged us to read widely and showed us how ancient wisdom from our scriptures remains relevant in the modern world.
A line from his daily prayer always stayed with me: “Tum daata dukh bhanjana, meri karo sambhaal. Jo main poot-kapoot hoon, tohe pita ko laal.” It means: “O Lord, you are the destroyer of suffering, please look after me. Whether I am a good child or a bad one, I am still your darling.”
As my earthly father journeyed onward in the soul’s eternal path, I found immense comfort in knowing that the divine Father is forever by my side. Happy Father’s Day.
The writer authors a daily blog on Indian mythology.
A poignant reminder of a father’s love: The gentle, supportive hand beneath the strike, shaping life with silent sacrifice and strength (Image generated using AI). 
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