In a humble home, a father's love did dwell,
His earnings meager, but his heart, a magic spell.
With every dawn, he set off to toil and strive,
To provide for his family, so they could thrive.

His wallet thin, like a stream that trickles slow,
Yet his dreams for his daughter, they would brightly glow.
Diwali arrived with its festive, joyful sound,
But for himself, no new clothes could be found.

He wore the same attire, year after year,
For his little girl's dreams, he held them dear.
She wished for toys and...