Remembering My Father This Father’s Day: Lessons from an Indian Army Colonel

Rajkumari Sharma Tankha

Every year, Father’s Day brings back a flood of memories. This year marks the sixth Father’s Day I am observing without my father. I lost him in 2011 to Parkinson’s disease—a long and debilitating illness. But that is not how I wish to remember him.

To me, he will always remain the dashing Ram Rattan Sharma — a proud officer of the Indian Army who served the nation in two wars: the Indo‑Pakistani War of 1965 and the Indo‑Pakistani War of 1971.

A Man Who Lived with Energy and Discipline

Papa always walked with a spring in his step. Health was something he took seriously. Growing up, I hardly ever saw him fall sick. At most, he would catch a mild cold when the weather changed. Otherwise, he was always fighting fit.

That is why it came as a shock to all of us when, in 2003, at just 65, Parkinson’s disease struck him suddenly. It felt as though life had changed overnight for our entire family. Even today, I quietly hope that researchers and scientists will soon discover a cure for this devastating illness.

Words of Wisdom I Truly Understood Later

There are many things Papa told me when he was alive—words that continue to echo in my mind even today. When he said them, I simply heard them; I didn’t truly listen.

One piece of advice he often repeated was: never trust anyone until they prove worthy of your trust.

Young and naive at the time, I trusted people blindly. But as life unfolded and experiences shaped me, I realised the truth in his words. Today, I carry a small measure of caution with anyone who speaks too sweetly.

Sometimes I wish Papa could see how much his advice shaped the person I have become.

Lessons in Discipline from an Army Father

Being an officer in the Indian Army, Papa was extremely disciplined. Our childhood followed a strict routine. Lights had to be switched off by 11 pm, and mornings began at 5 am sharp.

Back then, I resented it.

Today, I miss it.

Years of working late-night shifts in newspaper offices have completely disrupted my sleep cycle. Sometimes I wish he were still here—to tickle my feet to wake me up in the morning, just as he used to, or to call out my name at night reminding me to switch off the lights.

His Princess: The Story Behind My Name

Among all my siblings, I like to believe Papa loved me the most. I was his princess—the reason he named me Rajkumari.

As a child, I did not like the name at all. I thought it sounded unusual and awkward. But slowly, I began to appreciate it. Today, I cherish it deeply because it was Papa who chose it for me.

He had great expectations from me. I know I could not fulfil many of his wishes, yet he never complained. Instead, he celebrated even my smallest achievements with pride.

A Life of Quiet Kindness and Service

From Papa, I learnt the importance of helping people. Anyone who approached him with a problem would receive his attention and support. If someone shared their troubles with him, he would go out of his way to help.

Often, he even kept his acts of generosity hidden from my mother. But she, being the person she is, trusted him completely and never questioned his actions.

Sometimes I wish I had inherited more of that quiet faith from her.

A Social Worker Without an NGO

After retiring from the Indian Army in 1992, Papa did not simply settle into a quiet life. Instead, he gradually became a counsellor of sorts for people around him.

Without setting up any organisation, people began approaching him for advice on personal matters. He listened patiently and guided them through difficult situations. He reunited quarrelling couples and helped mend relationships between parents and their children.

There was something about him—an aura, a quiet authority—that made people trust his words.

Even today, residents of Shalimar Bagh, the North Delhi neighbourhood where he settled after retirement, remember him with great respect.

My Greatest Regret

Life is full of regrets, but my biggest one relates to Papa.

One day, when I had gone to visit him, he asked me to stay the night. I don’t know why I refused. It was a Monday, and I had office the next day. I told him I would return over the weekend.

As always, he quietly agreed.

The very next day, while I was at work handling some trivial news assignment, he slipped into a deep sleep. He was rushed to Army Hospital (Research and Referral) but never regained consciousness. A few days later, he passed away peacefully in his sleep.

He had served the Indian Army all his life, and in those final days, the Army took care of him.

A Message to Those Who Still Have Their Fathers

If there is one thing I would say to everyone reading this on Father’s Day, it is this:

If your father is still with you, listen to him. Pay attention to his words. Spend time with him when he asks you to.

Do not make the mistake I made.

Because sometimes, the moments we postpone never return.