I was on a call, walking across the dining room of their home, completely engrossed in the conversation with my mother. Their double pedestal 18th century French style 10-seater table lay cluttered with papers, documents, bills,etc. under the glimmering crystal chandelier. As I was walking and my finger carelessly running through rim of the table, my eyes caught the attention of two baronial envelopes with the recipients addressed on them. One read " To Daddy, From Son " , the other " To Son ". But what caught my attention was not this, but the postscript just a few inches below the latter note. It read, " P.S: Sorry for my poor handwriting ". Knowing the father in this context, and having read such a postscript, my mind wandered into deep thoughts about this man. It raced back to the memories of the last weekend of June when the blissful days with Her Holiness also brought with it new relationships that will be cherished for a lifetime. Here is a man of ...