I confess I am a born worrier. Even though I appear calm and composed, from inside I worry about everything under the Sun – people, business, health, the community and even the country at large. However, my constant worry has been about you.

When you were to be born, I was hardly bothered whether my child is a boy or a girl. My only desire was you should be healthy. If I saw or heard about a handicapped or a mentally retarded child, I would get sick with worry. After nine months of such intense anxiety, when I finally held you in my arms, I examined you thoroughly and even counted your fingers. Now my fears were whether you could hear, talk or smell properly, whether you could walk and run like a normal child….Most of the time these fears turned out to be baseless. I still remember how one day, when I returned from office, a two year old you, brimming with joy, ran towards me shouting “Baba, Baba”. I threw away my briefcase and sat down in the passage, with my suit, tie and shoes, to enjoy the bliss of your bear hug.

At such moments, I would think my worries were finally over but they surfaced again when you were sick. I worried about your admission in a good school, your exam results, and finally getting a seat in Engineering. Despite your crossing every hurdle, my worry continued over your marriage and children. Now, you’re well settled with a good job, happily married to a lovely girl and your child comes running to me, with open arms, shouting “Dada, Dada”, to give me a bear hug.

However, my recent worry about you has turned into anguish, because I can’t even talk to you about it. Whenever I’ve broached the subject, you’ve always given short retorts and walked away. Both your mother and wife deter me from talking about it. But being a worrier, I can’t help when every second day, I see an article on the dangers of smoking with definite proofs and findings of its ill effects. I’m sure you also come across such reports and it has always remained a mystery as to why you continue despite being aware of the consequences.

Recently, I found my answer in the Mahabharat. When Yudhishtira tried to drink water from a lake, he was confronted by a Yaksha (guardian angel of that lake), who showed him his four brothers lying dead on its bank. The Yaksha wanted him to answer some questions before drinking the water or meet the same fate as his brothers. Yudhishtira answered all the questions to the Yaksha’s satisfaction and his brothers came back to life. The last and the most important question was, “What is the strangest thing in the world?” Yudhishtira replied: “Even though we see people, young and old, dying around us everyday, we think and act as if we are immortal!”

So, perhaps the hard and dry statistics have no effect on your mind. I agree one has to be responsible and be the sole arbiter of one’s decision; but the fact remains his loved ones do worry when they see the dangers all around. Only a few weeks ago, our tall, robust, 45 year old neighbour Gupta passed away suddenly. He was hale and hearty and did his annual check-ups regularly. He died in his office of cardiac failure though his last health report a month ago had given him a clean chit about his heart. Attending doctors told me, privately, that he was a smoker and didn’t exercise enough. Each time I see his young widow and two small children, the horror of smoking comes face to face.

A few days ago, a young business acquaintance, Kriplani, suffered a serious paralytic stroke as he was getting into his car. Just the previous night, he had returned from a picnic with his buddies in Khandala. I was aghast to see him lying helpless in the Hospital, not able to talk or move his limbs. A doctor friend revealed his arteries were damaged due to smoking and hence could not handle a sudden stroke.

As a helpless father in deep anguish, my only avenue is this letter to you. May you have the wisdom to perceive and the courage to stop smoking. Not only me but all your loved ones will rejoice if it happens.

PS: After writing this letter, I came across an article by Hillary Rodham Clinton describing how her chain smoker mother-in-law stopped smoking when her 8 year old granddaughter Chelsea wanted her to give it up as a birthday present to her. I don’t know when your small son will grow up to ask you for such a present; but as a birthday gift for my 70th year, could you give me this present?