A Father's Day

A Father's Day Eve Treat

The evening air of Rajashon, Savar, Dhaka with the sound of rickshaw bells and the distant call to prayer. Ethen stood by the street corner, eyes wide with excitement as he held tightly onto my hand (father’s hand).

“Baba, where are we going?” he asked, his voice bubbling with curiosity.

Me- I rarely showed emotion, smiled gently and said, “Tonight is Father’s Day Eve. I thought we could treat ourselves.”

Ethen eyes lit up. “Really? Just the two of us?”

“No. but with your mom (mama).”

We walked down the bustling street, the scent of grilled meat and fresh naan wrapping around us like a warm blanket. Soon we arrived at a small local eatery — the kind with flickering LED lights, wooden chairs, small rusturant (WOW Cafe).

We discovered a table and took a seat together. Shortly thereafter, a hot plate of spicy chicken chap was served, accompanied by a bowl of rich, aromatic haleem. The server presented us with freshly baked butter naan, warm to the touch, glistening with a soft golden hue. Lastly, a liter bottle of Coca-Cola arrived, glistening with condensation. We poured it into the glass.

“To us,” Baba said, raising his glass.

Ethen clinked his glass with me, grinning. “To us!”

We dipped our naan into the haleem, tore into the chicken chap, and sipped our Coke between bites. We laughed about Ethen school stories, joked about Baba’s attempts at using smartphones, and even talked about phone game — always a shared passion.

For that one evening, time slowed. It wasn’t about expensive gifts or fancy restaurants. It was about connection. About a father and son sharing laughter, food, and love in the heart of my city (Savar- Rajashon).

As we walked home under the stars, Ethen whispered, “
Baba, this was the best night ever.”

I squeezed his hand gently. “Mine too, baba. Mine too.”