Be little patient. This story is a bit long.
I was riding my brand new BMW. And riding it gave me an immense pride. Because very few own it right. The streets of Bangalore in due course turn out to be a nightmarish because one needs to shift the gears every now and then and not to forget the damn traffic. The countless cars are stretched out all over. It looks as if yet an ant won’t dig up the required freedom to move. A five minutes ride could easily turn out an hour ride.
It’s been a long time since I have last met my father. I don’t know why there was this sudden surge in me to meet him. I missed him maybe that’s why.
I halted my car, not because I wanted but because of the traffic. It was an unbreakable one. I knew that it was not going to diffuse soon. I saw the traffic policemen from some far. He was running and hopping to places shouting at whomever he could. I laid back and just remembered him.
I cannot recount my experiences of me with my mother as she passed away when I was just three years old. I had my father from then. He took care of me. Only thing I knew about my mother is that she looked beautiful. My father had her black and white photo in his old purse. I secretly saw her photo. I used to cry when I was child, only when I missed my mother. My father used to say, “She has gone to sacred place of god and she will return to you only when you will be a big man.’’
Big man, I needed this dose. From then my only aim was to be big. I did not know what that meant but I wanted to be big that’s it and that’s what mattered.
My father was a simple man. He looked a little pasty, thin and he was a little tall. He had only few pair of trousers and those where the only few that he used to wear. He was a postman in the nearby government post office. I loved to see him in that gauche khaki uniform. It actually suited him quite a bit. And not to forget that old Atlas cycle which he used to pedal all the way.
We lived in this small single room with no furnishing. It was not because we wanted to live there but we needed to. I used to curse that little home as small graveyard. My father’s meagre income could not buy us a big flat or something I adjusted and I had too. However he made sure that I studied and pursued well. He took several loans and sent me to an English convent school. It was a type of school in which every rich people would send their kids too.
Days pass like a wave. I was growing up as young, smart and arrogant. I was arrogant because I topped always. My father was growing old and he was the same.
I hated the first day of school. It starts right after the summer vacations. It was beginning day of 8th grade. The reason why I hated the day was absolute. We needed to introduce ourselves. It does not mean that I was afraid or something, but I was adamant to introduce my father. My father stood small in facade of all rich fathers of my friend. I don’t know why but I had this strange sense of guilt, guilt of being abandoned, guilt of being inferior, as it was all planned or as if it was happening only to me.
Anyways it was my turn. I started, ‘My name is Amit Culan and I have scored 9.5GPA in my last exams and err...err,’ I stopped. ‘I am from Malpur and my father is postman.’
A strange silence followed. I heard some giggles. Although it was usual for me, I was used to it. Every year it was the same old drama. But the point was that it made me depressed.
That evening right after the class ended my father came to pick me up. He noticed me in my dunked face. He asked me repeatedly about what happened and all those. I was firm about not answering the question. I just did not want to make him sad. Maybe he felt sorry for me.
We were walking slowly to home when my father suggested, ‘let us go to park.’
It was great for this small town to have such good park. I loved to go there. It was a beautiful park. It was a medium sized garden, but we liked calling it as park because it gave a sense of pleasure. This particular park, garden or whatever it is, was very life like. There were this gorgeous trees and blossomed flowers everywhere. I wanted to go there.
‘It is fine, let’s go to home,’ I said spoiling the party.
‘Common, it will be fun,’ he said and dragged me literally.
I bestowed.
We sat near the banyan tree, beneath its gloom. I watched kids of my age playing and they all looked happy. At that moment I felt that I had built my own wall of sorrow and I had got hitched to it. I couldn’t help but notice my father, he remained silent, and he always was. I wondered how could he be such a calm person given the circumstances in we were.
‘How can you be so calm?’ I asked without looking at him.
He slightly turned towards me and smiled. ‘Silence,’ he said. ‘Silence is the answer to everything.’
‘What does that mean?’ I asked not getting his point.
‘When you think too much, you take too much and your mind can’t handle too much. Everyone faces tuff situation, this is life and we can’t run away. There are times when we feel let down, betrayed, and we curse. But cursing won’t do anything. Instead sitting silently will give you time to think. You will feel peace. Then just think of those who have more problems than you. They live and they fight, if they can why can’t we.’
I was looking at him.
‘Silence, it is the answer.’ He said and slowly tapped my back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Years rolled on. I was aggressive and I succeeded. I scored distinction in my 12th board exams and then went on. I earned scholarship at a reputed college. It was not soon that I cleared my management course and was recruited in big firm as a chief officer.
I decided to make money; I wanted to earn a lot of it. I wanted to show all those people who laughed at me. It was not late that I had earned shit lot of money. I cracked numerous deals and soon was tagged as successful. I married Tina, and I have two kids.
I would have been happy, if the life was same. The matter was my father. I should hit myself for having being thought about that. I thought he was an embarrassment for me. When there is more money in front of you, you just don’t care. You become blind. The same had happened to me.
The problem was with my wife. She was disgusted with him, maybe because he was old, maybe because he was too old to think. One day she easily suggested me to send him to an old orphanage. I thought for some time. I felt that it was wrong. But later on I thought that it was good for all of us.
After a lot of talking I told my father about our decision. He wore the same old pyjamas and the rimmed spectacles. He didn’t react. He smiled again and just said that he was happy to go.
He went and it’s been two years now. I have divorced my wife, because I came to know that she was only after my money. I have taken custody of my kids.
I felt bad, shit badly. How could I be so mean and selfish? I never thought about my father. I left him because of a third person. He didn’t speak a word; he didn’t even utter a word. I felt like a loser.
The car horns woke me up. I started to the car. Within five minutes I reached “Sri Ram Old Orphanage” I read the last word “Orphanage” my father was not an orphan, he had me. I went to reception counter and asked about my father. He was in room no 102. I stepped slowly; there was no rush inside me. I was guilty; I had no courage to face him. I stopped outside his room. He was the same. He was reading newspaper. I saw his room from outside. It had my mother’s black and white photo, and somewhere round the corner, it had mine and his too.
Tears welled up inside my eyes. I could not control anymore, I cried. How bad was I? The moment came when he turned slowly. He was wrinkled. He came towards me.
‘Your grandsons want to see you,’ I said stopping in between and between.
‘You can’t even lie properly.’ He said half smiling.
I hugged him tightly, maybe it was first time that I did. It felt good. I asked sorry. Sorry was no good and I knew it. I didn’t deserve it.
‘I am really sorry, I was fool to let you,’ I said still sobbing.
‘Everything happens for good,’ he said.
He held my hand and took me too nearby lawn. We sat there. It made me remember those old moments spent with him.
He was smiling.
‘What?’ I asked.
He didn’t speak.
I knew the answer. Silence, it was the answer for everything.
