Father's Day 2025: Date, History, and the Significance of Honouring Fatherhood
As Father's Day 2025 approaches, families across the globe are preparing to honour the unwavering support, love, and sacrifices made by fathers and father figures. This day is not just an annual celebration—it's a heartfelt tribute to the men who have guided, protected, and inspired generations.
When is Father's Day in 2025?
Father's Day this year falls on Sunday, June 15, 2025. As is tradition in countries like India, the United States, the United Kingdom, and Australia, the celebration takes place annually on the third Sunday of June. It's a special moment to pause and reflect on the powerful bond shared between fathers and their children.
The Origins of Father's Day
The history of Father's Day goes back to 1910 in Spokane, Washington, where Sonora Smart Dodd first conceptualised a day to honour fathers. Moved by a Mother's Day sermon in 1909, Dodd felt that fathers deserved a similar recognition. Her own father, a Civil War veteran, had single-handedly raised her and her siblings after the death of their mother.
Determined to shine a light on paternal dedication, she proposed the idea, which led to the first official Father's Day celebration on June 19, 1910. Though warmly received, it took decades for the observance to become widely accepted. Finally, in 1972, then-U.S. President Richard Nixon signed it into law, officially recognising Father's Day as a national holiday. Since then, its influence has spread globally.
The Significance of Father's Day
More than just a celebratory occasion, Father's Day is a moment of reflection and gratitude. Fathers and father figures are often our first heroes—teaching lessons in resilience, discipline, honesty, and empathy. From offering life advice to standing as quiet pillars of strength, their role in shaping a child's values and ambitions is profound.
Celebrating Father's Day allows us to acknowledge the irreplaceable role they play in our lives—not just through words but through acts of appreciation.
How is Father's Day Celebrated in 2025?
This year, Father's Day celebrations carry the same warmth and enthusiasm that they always have. While some families plan movie nights, cook his favourite meal, or gift handmade cards, others may choose to give books, gadgets, or simply spend quality time together.
The day is flexible and personal, making room for heartfelt expressions—be it through a hug, a phone call, or ticking off his long-forgotten wishlist. More importantly, it's a reminder to celebrate not just the man, but the values and memories he has passed down.
So, as Sunday, June 15, 2025, nears, let's take the opportunity to honour every dad, granddad, mentor, or guardian who has stood strong behind us—often silently, always steadfast. Happy Father's Day!
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Indian Express
a day ago
- Indian Express
A common name, a father's light
By Jyoti Pande Lavakare I always found Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day and their other mercantile mutations more Hallmark happenings than any meaningful moments of meditative mensch. Something has changed now. I no longer feel like a judgy bear, holding up a disdainful nose at these commemorations. Life has softened me in as many ways as it has strengthened me. This Father's Day, I found myself thinking about my father, who recently turned 95 and is fading faster than I can accept. He comes from a family of priests, intelligent, fiercely hard working but once desperately poor. He was born in 1930, when India had not even become Independent, raising a family of females on a single salary in the 1950s-60s because society didn't encourage women to work. With almost single-minded focus, he pulled himself out of his own family's genteel poverty, wearing his values like a medal while 'serving the government of independent India'. Like men of his generation, he was also singularly inexpressive of his love for us, his children, although by the time I was born, that was changing. I remember his cuddles and bedtime stories vividly. But it is one story that keeps coming to mind whenever I think of his love for me. Growing up, I disliked my name because every 10th person was named 'Jyoti' then. When my friends called me 'Jo' or 'Jojo' or 'Joey', I responded happily, desperately hoping my given name would be quietly forgotten. As the third of four daughters in a north Indian family, I always knew it was a son they were hoping for when I was born. One day, I must have been around 10, I asked him if he was disappointed at my birth. I don't think anyone had asked him that, not even after the birth of my younger sister. People just assumed that disappointment was a given. He looked at me in surprise. 'Disappointed?' he said, confused. 'You brought me more joy than I can remember. Your birth was aligned with a big promotion, more prosperity. I enjoyed your childhood more than that of my other children.' His usually serious eyes lit up in a smile. Although, by this time, our relationship had become more formal — his hugs and night-time stories a thing of the past — I remember his words bringing me comfort. We were standing under the frangipani tree I used to climb in the rambling garden of one of the whitewashed government houses I grew up in. I still remember the way he impatiently flicked back his jet-black hair from his wide forehead as he said, 'When your older sisters were born, I was too young and too poor and had too many responsibilities — my parents, jobless siblings, cousins who needed a leg up. I could never pamper them the way I pampered you when you were born a decade later.' He continued, 'Do you know why I named you Jyoti? As I was driving your mother to the hospital in Delhi on a cold January morning, the whole city was lit up for Republic Day. I felt the city was celebrating your birth. And so, when you were born, the only name I could think of for you was Jyoti (light).' I embraced my name only because of this conversation. It reminds me of my father's love for me even today, when he is infirm, barely mobile, gazing out of his lounger, his eyes cloudy with cataract, his once sharp mind often disoriented, his once bushy eyebrows drooping and white. He is more expressive now, always telling me how much he looks forward to my biweekly visits, when I read the Bhagavad Gita to him or we listen to a podcast on Vedanta. After his last foray to the ICU, he became even more fragile, but at least he is stable. For now. I know the time has come to let him go, and I'm trying. Our conversations during these visits have told me more than my own memories of how my parents tried their best to raise their four daughters like sons at a time when this was an anachronism. Even today, he won't live with one of his married daughters. He prefers to live in his own house, a hospice-type situation with 24-hour attendants, all of them financed by his pension — payback for his years of his service to 'the government of independent India'. We live longer today because medicine has expanded lifespans, but sometimes, as in the case of my father, quality of life suffers. I know that even when he passes on, whenever someone calls me by the name he gave me, however common it may sound to others, it will remind me of his love for me, his third daughter who brought him light in a country that still doesn't value its women. The writer is a former journalist and the author of 'Breathing Here is Injurious to Your Health' National Editor Shalini Langer curates the fortnightly 'She Said' column
Hindustan Times
3 days ago
- Hindustan Times
‘Overworked and underpaid': Alleged Kroger staffer speaks out on botched Juneteenth cakes controversy
Kroger is facing sharp criticism after a viral TikTok video exposed a display of sloppily decorated Juneteenth cakes at one of its Georgia locations. The cakes, meant to commemorate a holiday that holds deep significance in Black communities, featured phrases like 'FREE @ Last' and 'June 19 FREE' in what many called a tone-deaf and careless presentation. The backlash has sparked conversations about corporate sensitivity and respect for cultural observances. Also Read: Kroger under fire for 'Lazy' Juneteenth cakes: Watch Following the incident, a self-identified Kroger employee spoke out about the issue on Reddit. The alleged employee wrote, 'Apparently a Kroger here in Georgia is getting some heat because of crappy cake designs for Junteenth.' Sharing their two cents on the matter, they wrote, 'I'm a bit mixed on this. As a Kroger employee I understand that people here are overworked and underpaid like crazy. However, admittedly these cake are not the best looking and def could've been made better.' The Redditor claiming to be a Kroger employee added, 'Though frankly the lady in this video sounds entitled as f*** so I don't have much sympathy for her in particular. Wanted to see what the community thought.' Along with the post, they also shared the link to the Instagram video showing the viral incident that made headlines in the first place. Check the Reddit post here. Kroger also issued a damage control statement following the incident. A spokesperson told Newsweek, 'The cakes and cookies that were featured in the video were inconsistent with our provided guidance and not of the quality we would expect to see from our stores. The products have been removed, and we've addressed this directly with the store teams and the customer who took the initial video.' Also Read: Monthly social security checks could be cut by this year if Congress doesn't act A reddit user wrote, 'I churned out some seriously ugly Father's day stuff in the last 15 minutes of my shift on Sat-- everything we'd made had sold and we needed to fill the hole. It was better than this Juneteenth stuff, but then I'm capable of doing good work if I have the time. Yeah, it was probably someone with minimal training and not much time, doing their best.' A second user wrote, 'If people want a GOOD QUALITY CAKE, go to a real bakery shop. Not a friggin' supermarket. Same rule applies for flowers. If you want a bouquet of flowers to really blow your girlfriend /wife away, go to a florist. Don't try to cheap out by looking for a bargain at your local grocery store.' Another user wrote, 'Bad cookie cakes always get a laugh out of me. You'll see them a lot if you actually pay attention to that sort of thing. They're cheaper than real cakes, so stores will have anyone throw something on there just to get them out, while the actual cake decorator (if they even have one) works on customer orders. These were clearly made by someone with no experience and no direction on what to actually put on there, and probably no fucks left to give.' While one user wrote, 'Bro those cakes deserve to get clowned on. 'FREE @ LAST' is so fucking funny. And then just 'FREE''
News18
4 days ago
- News18
'Lived In UK, But Never Forgot Their Roots': Surat Mourns Death Of Couple, 4-Year-Old Kid In Air India Crash
Hundreds gathered at Hasanji Kabristan in Haripura for the last rites of Aqeel Nanabava, his wife Hanna Voraji, and their daughter Sara, who died in an Air India crash The city that slept silently on Tuesday night stirred to an extraordinary moment of mourning as hundreds gathered outside Hasanji Kabristan in Haripura at 1:30 am. The occasion was tragic – the last rites of Aqeel Nanabava, his wife Hanna Voraji, and their four-year-old daughter Sara, who lost their lives in the Air India plane crash on June 12. The family, though settled in the UK for decades, had deep roots in Surat's Bohra community and were brought home for their final journey. Despite being a British citizen, Aqeel's family had long been woven into Surat's social and spiritual fabric through their charitable work, property holdings, and generations of community presence. The outpouring of grief reflected not just the shock of their untimely death, but the emotional bond the city still shared with them. In the crowd stood Abdullah Nanabava, a father hollowed by loss. He had just celebrated Eid al-Adha with his son's family days prior to the tragic crash. 'What words are left now?" he said, barely audible, adding that he had dropped them at Ahmedabad airport himself as they were flying to London. The crash came barely a day after Father's Day. 'In the morning, I was a father. By evening, I was not," he said to a close family friend. Aqeel, Hanna, and little Sara had come to Surat for a short Eid holiday for just six days. It was meant to be a joyful visit, and by all accounts, it was. 'They brought us happiness like a festival," said Abdullah, 'Now, that joy is my memory." As the ' namaz-e-janaza ' (funeral prayer) was held, a sea of mourners – relatives, local clerics, activists, and neighbours – filled the street. The quiet dignity of the crowd reflected the deep respect Aqeel's family commanded. Though Aqeel was raised abroad, those who met him described him as warm, soft-spoken, and always connected to his roots. 'He never forgot Surat," said an old classmate of his father, adding that even when his accent changed, his humility did not. The Nanabava family had made Gloucester, UK, their home. Abdullah had returned to Surat nearly 15 years ago, but his wife and four sons continued to live in England. The family remained close despite the geography – the sons visiting Surat regularly, especially on religious occasions. Aqeel's younger brother, Hamza, and mother Sajida had flown in from London upon hearing the news. It was in their presence that Aqeel and Hanna were buried side by side, just after 2 am. Yet, not everything about the burial followed tradition. The Islamic practice of ghusl (ritual washing of the body) could not be performed due to procedural constraints after the crash. For many, especially close friends like Rashid, the absence of this sacred step left a void. 'It felt like something vital was missing," Rashid said. The soul was gone, but the goodbye was incomplete, he added. Later that day, another call came – this time from Ahmedabad. The remains of four-year-old Sara had been positively identified. In the evening, her tiny body too was brought to Hasanji Kabristan. The prayer was offered once more, the earth was turned once more; this time for the youngest among them. She was buried just beside her parents. Three members of one family – a mother, a father, and a child – now rest in the same city they once came to celebrate Eid in. First Published: June 19, 2025, 15:44 IST
