What a day it was... A day spent with a cup of tea and an
armchair. I leaned behind as far as I could go and sighed lightly. I was
impressed by the tea, so rejuvenating, so calming... The touch of the liquid on
my tongue triggered the sensation of utmost bliss to ripple through my body. I
thanked God for making tea-leaves and, after an afterthought; I added a thanks
for making those people who make such tea out of those tea leaves. Even the
floral designs on the saucer caught my attention and I was amused. I was amused
by the twisting stem of the flower on the saucer. I brought my eyes down to the
level of the saucer and looked at it sideways. The pattern couldn’t be more
unblemished. I could just imagine the designer inserting his last touches to
the beautiful pattern. Now that I gave a thought to it, it was perfect,
wholesome. There was nothing astray about the whole thing. The artwork was
brilliant and the result was outstanding. I was seeing through one eye now. On
the edges of my view, I saw my father entering.
I looked over the saucer with the beautiful floral designs and saw him, tall, with little hair and with his usual stern look. “What’ve you been up to?” That is his usual question. I anticipated it coming even before half of him had entered my office and I answered back loudly, “I have been going over the numbers since morning! I can’t bear them anymore. I beg you; dismiss one of us from here! We don’t make a good pair.” I began complaining. Though I didn’t even half-mean my words I knew that they would produce the desired effect and my father would leave me at peace, sadly under the misconception that I was unwillingly doing numbers!
“Enough with those numbers! Come with me to my office, someone is here to see you!” my father instructed me. “No numbers?” I asked, deflated. “No.” He gave me a wide grin. I was fuming inside and he was grinning at me. It was the first time in my life that I wanted to lead a solitary life with my friends- numbers and here I was being deprived of this singular opportunity. I mean, how many youngsters of sixteen in this country of billions would be willing to sit with numbers under a fan in a smouldering afternoon? It is a pathetic fact that there is no room for daring people in this country.
Suddenly, my curiosity overcame my grief and I desperately wanted to know who had come to meet me. I took longer strides than my father and reached his office well twenty-nine steps ahead of him. I gazed through the looking glass. At first I could not recognize the face of the person, though he looked familiar. While I dived into the archives of my mind, I unconsciously stepped in and the person noticed me. What helped me find him in the archives was his reaction on seeing me. My search results were shocking indeed. What added to my shock was that I was standing in front of the person. While I inwardly cursed my subconscious muscular movements, I tried to consciously sneak out of the room.
Ill-fate was too hard on me that day, I think, for as soon as I started stepping out of the room, my father completed his extra twenty-nine steps and bid me go back inside and greet the person.
He was my ex-girl friend’s father. A big mistake, I tell you, a humongous one, mammoth, I must say, but a mistake in good earnest. Yes, I admit proposing to that girl was a big mistake. Though had you asked me regarding it while I was still with her, I would have said that that was the best thing I ever did. But, you know, perspectives change with time and here I was looking at the whole matter through an entirely new window.
Speaking about windows, I had a sudden and urgent urge to get some fresh air. The stench in that small cell was getting on my nerves. I must admit I deliberately took as much time as I could muster in my small sojourn to open the window.
Sooner than I had anticipated, the three of us were sitting at my father’s desk and waiting for each other to begin. Coincidentally, all the three of us began together, apologized together and ultimately ended up waiting for each other to begin again.
“Your son is after my daughter,” began the gentleman. And here it begins all over again, I thought. I settled myself comfortably for it was going to be a long discussion about the moral principles to be bound upon me hence and I was not ready- on account of my clear conscience- to give up my freedoms and erstwhile principles so easily. My father turned to me, a quizzical expression on his face. The least I could do was to answer him similarly. I returned a quizzical expression to my father. We both gave a quizzical expression to the gentleman. The gentleman faltered at this, but explained further, “I have unquestionable evidence that, in spite of repeated warnings, your son is still trying to contact my daughter.”
A lie. Full, blatant and shameless. Spoken as if without a care, just blurted into the air, not worrying about the consequences of such grave implications. Here we are to talk about ethics, and my opposition begins with an unethical lie, I mused. Why in the world would I want to speak to my ex girl friend? She was somebody I was dying to forget about and here this gentleman came barging in claiming I was doing the right opposite of it. The mid portion of my little finger of my right hand was fidgeting as if it wanted to wrap itself around the gentleman’s throat.
“Who are you? Who is your daughter? My son has nothing to do with her!” My father, usually a very calm person I must assert, would not tolerate any kind of silly joke. “Don’t fool yourself! Your son is misbehaving under your nose and you know nothing about it!” the gentleman seemed to be deadly against me. He was a man in his forties, and I was in my teens. He had a slight beard, and I was plain cheek. He was wearing a buttoned shirt and I was in my favourite t-shirt. He was slightly bald and I had a full set of hair. This was unfair competition. They say the older you are, the more experience you have. They are right. I say the younger you are, the more tactful you are. I was about to prove myself right.
“Or is he hiding something from me?” My father turned to me and raised an eyebrow. Did I just say my father was a calm person? I gave the most innocent look I could summon and shook my head violently. “What girl are you talking about, gentleman?” I asked the person. I had over-stressed on ‘gentleman’ and the gentleman replied, overstressing on ‘child’, “You know very well who I am talking about, child!”
“Do I?” I asked myself and sat back, acting as if I was in a super exhausting task of trying to locate what, where and how this girl has played any role in my life. “What was her name again?” I asked, interrupting myself in my mission. “I didn’t mention her name,” the gentleman said gently. I sat back again, returning to the haunted mansions in my mind. My father sat watching the both of us trying to ascertain what was actually happening. I had started liking this new game.
Tea was brought in. They brought my old cup and saucer for me. The gentleman refused the tea politely. “Ah!” I exclaimed, clicking my fingers. Both my father and the gentleman turned to look at me. Frightened, I quickly nodded my head and murmured, “No, no.” “Your son seems to have trouble remembering my daughter,” the gentleman said to my father sardonically. “So it seems,” answered my father plainly.
In the inner portions of my mind, I was secretly cursing the hot tea, cursing the floral designs that seemed so irrelevant to the situation. Why did God have to make tea-leaves? I started abhorring the liquid which lay so calmly in front of me. I didn’t drink it any more.
“Are you talking about the girl who had been after me for the last fourteen months or so?” I asked. Now it was the turn for the gentleman to ponder. He dropped his head on his chest and began thinking hard. My father was silently drinking his tea. I surreptitiously asked him who the hell this gentleman was. My father shook his head unknowingly. I nodded understandingly. The gentleman turned his head wondrously. “No,” he answered finally. “Uh, wait,” he cut himself short. There was an odd silence after that. I deliberately yawned thrice, looked at my watch twice and ruffled my hairs quadruple times during that interval. “Yes, I think she is the one,” the man declared finally.
“Then I am afraid your daughter has been misbehaving under your nose and you are doing nothing about it,” I said quickly. “No, wait. She is the one you are talking about but you are the one who is after her, she isn’t after you.” The gentleman declared solemnly, as if he was announcing the final decision on the case of my life. “Who told you that?” I question sharply, piercing the man’s confidence and ease with the glare in my eyes. The man, for once, removed eye contact from me and turned to my father, apparently taken aback. “Nobody” the man mouthed. “Hah!” I exclaimed, as if the case was closed.
The truth is that nobody was after nobody. We were just into each other, my girl friend and me. Then, suddenly, one day she gave me the break. The surface reason was that I was affecting her science studies and the deeper reason was that she had found a new boy friend.
However, such things are not to be articulated aloud. “You don’t know the truth behind it all, man. Your daughter has been after me for so long. At first, we were good friends. Suddenly one day, she went all lovey-dovey and I was influenced at first but being well brought up, later I stopped talking to her.” I glanced sideways at my father trying to gorge his reaction. Till now, he was on my side. I actually didn’t know where I was headed. “She didn’t give up on me. We continued as friends but she would bring up the topic of love intermittently and I refused her each time. She would keep on persuading me, trying to procure a yes out of me.”
“But I have seen you with her! I even warned you not to talk to her anymore,” the gentleman said.
This was true. One fine evening, when everything was fine between me and her, this Mr. Gentleman had intruded in our privacy. I was afraid of him, as every noble boy friend should be afraid of his girl friend’s father. That’s why I blurted out all my addresses honestly when he asked for them. So here he was, sitting right opposite me in my father’s office, on a chair owned by my father, and refusing the tea owned by my father.
“That day she called me up! She was all teary on the phone, begging me to meet her! I don’t know what problem she had, she wouldn’t tell me. Being a good friend, I decided I should go and meet. Then you showed up from nowhere and began demanding details. I was surprised and afraid at the same time, so I gave you my father’s office address.” I was literally shouting now. My father eyed me angrily and indicated I should soften.
“Then one day, she left me alone. She had found someone else, I believe. I didn’t talk to her after that.” I finished. The gentleman didn’t seem to believe his ears. I wondered what was going on in my father’s mind.
“If she had left you alone, why did you call her yesterday?” the gentleman asked maliciously, as if playing his last cards. I owned the ace in this hand. Truthfully, and removing all doubt, I could swear on each and every person on the earth that I hadn’t called her the previous day. Unethical, unethical, unethical, my brain was creating a ruckus. Liar, unethical, atrocious, demeaning, everything but a gentleman! My little finger was twitching again and-
Then it dawned on me. It lifted me from the chaos, the cacophony of confusion and bewilderment and placed me somewhere higher, away from the utter ignorance, neglect and dismay into a world where there was only victory, joy and utter bliss. The sweet bliss of revenge.
For those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, it was her new boy friend who had been talking to her the previous day and this unearthly gentleman here had mistaken her new boy friend for me.
I relaxed; all limbs loose and easy. “The tea is so good!” I exclaimed to my father. My father frowned. I sipped once again and slipped deeper in my seat. My ease unnerved the gentleman.
At last, I played my ace, and victory was mine.
“Don’t tell it to mom. She might not like it and might spread the news. Then this gentleman’s reputation will be at stake.” I said to my father after the gentleman was gone, livid with his daughter’s ill-manners.
I looked over the saucer with the beautiful floral designs and saw him, tall, with little hair and with his usual stern look. “What’ve you been up to?” That is his usual question. I anticipated it coming even before half of him had entered my office and I answered back loudly, “I have been going over the numbers since morning! I can’t bear them anymore. I beg you; dismiss one of us from here! We don’t make a good pair.” I began complaining. Though I didn’t even half-mean my words I knew that they would produce the desired effect and my father would leave me at peace, sadly under the misconception that I was unwillingly doing numbers!
“Enough with those numbers! Come with me to my office, someone is here to see you!” my father instructed me. “No numbers?” I asked, deflated. “No.” He gave me a wide grin. I was fuming inside and he was grinning at me. It was the first time in my life that I wanted to lead a solitary life with my friends- numbers and here I was being deprived of this singular opportunity. I mean, how many youngsters of sixteen in this country of billions would be willing to sit with numbers under a fan in a smouldering afternoon? It is a pathetic fact that there is no room for daring people in this country.
Suddenly, my curiosity overcame my grief and I desperately wanted to know who had come to meet me. I took longer strides than my father and reached his office well twenty-nine steps ahead of him. I gazed through the looking glass. At first I could not recognize the face of the person, though he looked familiar. While I dived into the archives of my mind, I unconsciously stepped in and the person noticed me. What helped me find him in the archives was his reaction on seeing me. My search results were shocking indeed. What added to my shock was that I was standing in front of the person. While I inwardly cursed my subconscious muscular movements, I tried to consciously sneak out of the room.
Ill-fate was too hard on me that day, I think, for as soon as I started stepping out of the room, my father completed his extra twenty-nine steps and bid me go back inside and greet the person.
He was my ex-girl friend’s father. A big mistake, I tell you, a humongous one, mammoth, I must say, but a mistake in good earnest. Yes, I admit proposing to that girl was a big mistake. Though had you asked me regarding it while I was still with her, I would have said that that was the best thing I ever did. But, you know, perspectives change with time and here I was looking at the whole matter through an entirely new window.
Speaking about windows, I had a sudden and urgent urge to get some fresh air. The stench in that small cell was getting on my nerves. I must admit I deliberately took as much time as I could muster in my small sojourn to open the window.
Sooner than I had anticipated, the three of us were sitting at my father’s desk and waiting for each other to begin. Coincidentally, all the three of us began together, apologized together and ultimately ended up waiting for each other to begin again.
“Your son is after my daughter,” began the gentleman. And here it begins all over again, I thought. I settled myself comfortably for it was going to be a long discussion about the moral principles to be bound upon me hence and I was not ready- on account of my clear conscience- to give up my freedoms and erstwhile principles so easily. My father turned to me, a quizzical expression on his face. The least I could do was to answer him similarly. I returned a quizzical expression to my father. We both gave a quizzical expression to the gentleman. The gentleman faltered at this, but explained further, “I have unquestionable evidence that, in spite of repeated warnings, your son is still trying to contact my daughter.”
A lie. Full, blatant and shameless. Spoken as if without a care, just blurted into the air, not worrying about the consequences of such grave implications. Here we are to talk about ethics, and my opposition begins with an unethical lie, I mused. Why in the world would I want to speak to my ex girl friend? She was somebody I was dying to forget about and here this gentleman came barging in claiming I was doing the right opposite of it. The mid portion of my little finger of my right hand was fidgeting as if it wanted to wrap itself around the gentleman’s throat.
“Who are you? Who is your daughter? My son has nothing to do with her!” My father, usually a very calm person I must assert, would not tolerate any kind of silly joke. “Don’t fool yourself! Your son is misbehaving under your nose and you know nothing about it!” the gentleman seemed to be deadly against me. He was a man in his forties, and I was in my teens. He had a slight beard, and I was plain cheek. He was wearing a buttoned shirt and I was in my favourite t-shirt. He was slightly bald and I had a full set of hair. This was unfair competition. They say the older you are, the more experience you have. They are right. I say the younger you are, the more tactful you are. I was about to prove myself right.
“Or is he hiding something from me?” My father turned to me and raised an eyebrow. Did I just say my father was a calm person? I gave the most innocent look I could summon and shook my head violently. “What girl are you talking about, gentleman?” I asked the person. I had over-stressed on ‘gentleman’ and the gentleman replied, overstressing on ‘child’, “You know very well who I am talking about, child!”
“Do I?” I asked myself and sat back, acting as if I was in a super exhausting task of trying to locate what, where and how this girl has played any role in my life. “What was her name again?” I asked, interrupting myself in my mission. “I didn’t mention her name,” the gentleman said gently. I sat back again, returning to the haunted mansions in my mind. My father sat watching the both of us trying to ascertain what was actually happening. I had started liking this new game.
Tea was brought in. They brought my old cup and saucer for me. The gentleman refused the tea politely. “Ah!” I exclaimed, clicking my fingers. Both my father and the gentleman turned to look at me. Frightened, I quickly nodded my head and murmured, “No, no.” “Your son seems to have trouble remembering my daughter,” the gentleman said to my father sardonically. “So it seems,” answered my father plainly.
In the inner portions of my mind, I was secretly cursing the hot tea, cursing the floral designs that seemed so irrelevant to the situation. Why did God have to make tea-leaves? I started abhorring the liquid which lay so calmly in front of me. I didn’t drink it any more.
“Are you talking about the girl who had been after me for the last fourteen months or so?” I asked. Now it was the turn for the gentleman to ponder. He dropped his head on his chest and began thinking hard. My father was silently drinking his tea. I surreptitiously asked him who the hell this gentleman was. My father shook his head unknowingly. I nodded understandingly. The gentleman turned his head wondrously. “No,” he answered finally. “Uh, wait,” he cut himself short. There was an odd silence after that. I deliberately yawned thrice, looked at my watch twice and ruffled my hairs quadruple times during that interval. “Yes, I think she is the one,” the man declared finally.
“Then I am afraid your daughter has been misbehaving under your nose and you are doing nothing about it,” I said quickly. “No, wait. She is the one you are talking about but you are the one who is after her, she isn’t after you.” The gentleman declared solemnly, as if he was announcing the final decision on the case of my life. “Who told you that?” I question sharply, piercing the man’s confidence and ease with the glare in my eyes. The man, for once, removed eye contact from me and turned to my father, apparently taken aback. “Nobody” the man mouthed. “Hah!” I exclaimed, as if the case was closed.
The truth is that nobody was after nobody. We were just into each other, my girl friend and me. Then, suddenly, one day she gave me the break. The surface reason was that I was affecting her science studies and the deeper reason was that she had found a new boy friend.
However, such things are not to be articulated aloud. “You don’t know the truth behind it all, man. Your daughter has been after me for so long. At first, we were good friends. Suddenly one day, she went all lovey-dovey and I was influenced at first but being well brought up, later I stopped talking to her.” I glanced sideways at my father trying to gorge his reaction. Till now, he was on my side. I actually didn’t know where I was headed. “She didn’t give up on me. We continued as friends but she would bring up the topic of love intermittently and I refused her each time. She would keep on persuading me, trying to procure a yes out of me.”
“But I have seen you with her! I even warned you not to talk to her anymore,” the gentleman said.
This was true. One fine evening, when everything was fine between me and her, this Mr. Gentleman had intruded in our privacy. I was afraid of him, as every noble boy friend should be afraid of his girl friend’s father. That’s why I blurted out all my addresses honestly when he asked for them. So here he was, sitting right opposite me in my father’s office, on a chair owned by my father, and refusing the tea owned by my father.
“That day she called me up! She was all teary on the phone, begging me to meet her! I don’t know what problem she had, she wouldn’t tell me. Being a good friend, I decided I should go and meet. Then you showed up from nowhere and began demanding details. I was surprised and afraid at the same time, so I gave you my father’s office address.” I was literally shouting now. My father eyed me angrily and indicated I should soften.
“Then one day, she left me alone. She had found someone else, I believe. I didn’t talk to her after that.” I finished. The gentleman didn’t seem to believe his ears. I wondered what was going on in my father’s mind.
“If she had left you alone, why did you call her yesterday?” the gentleman asked maliciously, as if playing his last cards. I owned the ace in this hand. Truthfully, and removing all doubt, I could swear on each and every person on the earth that I hadn’t called her the previous day. Unethical, unethical, unethical, my brain was creating a ruckus. Liar, unethical, atrocious, demeaning, everything but a gentleman! My little finger was twitching again and-
Then it dawned on me. It lifted me from the chaos, the cacophony of confusion and bewilderment and placed me somewhere higher, away from the utter ignorance, neglect and dismay into a world where there was only victory, joy and utter bliss. The sweet bliss of revenge.
For those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, it was her new boy friend who had been talking to her the previous day and this unearthly gentleman here had mistaken her new boy friend for me.
I relaxed; all limbs loose and easy. “The tea is so good!” I exclaimed to my father. My father frowned. I sipped once again and slipped deeper in my seat. My ease unnerved the gentleman.
At last, I played my ace, and victory was mine.
“Don’t tell it to mom. She might not like it and might spread the news. Then this gentleman’s reputation will be at stake.” I said to my father after the gentleman was gone, livid with his daughter’s ill-manners.
