I never truly understood the weight of my father’s sacrifices until that evening at the ITC New Delhi. As I watched him adjust his crisp shirt collar, his weathered hands trembling slightly with emotion, I remembered all the nights he’d returned home exhausted from his watchman duties between 1995 and 2000.
The Memory Lane
Twenty-five years ago, these marble floors and elegant corridors were his workplace, not his dining space. Back then, he would have been invisible to most guests – just another uniform blending into the hotel’s luxurious backdrop. Tonight, he was the honored guest. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Every waiter who served us seemed to sense something extraordinary was happening – a son’s tribute to a father who had silently carried our family’s dreams.
Unspoken Emotions
My father rarely spoke about his past. But that night, his eyes glistened with untold stories. Between bites of paneer tikka and soft conversations, I could see flashes of his younger self – standing alert, protecting guests, dreaming of a better future for his children. “Beta,” he whispered, “I never imagined I’d sit here like this.” His voice cracked, and in that moment, generations of struggle and hope converged.
Beyond Just a Meal
This wasn’t just a dinner. It was a statement. A declaration that a person’s worth isn’t defined by their job, but by their character, their resilience. As social media embraced our story, I realized we had inadvertently started a conversation about dignity, respect, and the invisible heroes who build our society, one silent sacrifice at a time.
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My father was a watchman at ITC in New Delhi from 1995-2000; today I had the opportunity to take him to the same place for dinner 🙂 pic.twitter.com/nsTYzdfLBr
— Aryan Mishra | आर्यन मिश्रा (@desiastronomer) January 23, 2025
