FATHER

“I think Father will have a long beard and… thick bushy eyebrows and… a slight limp and-“, said one of the two little boys sitting inside a village bus moving clumsily on a dusty road. ”And what makes you think that?” interrupted the other. The younger of the two replied innocently, “You see, Grandpa looks like that, so I think Father too will look like that because mother once told me that fathers and sons look similar.“ His brother then gave a more intelligent point of view, “No, I think you are wrong to say that. Father will look like that only when he grows as old as grandpa. According to me he will probably be clean shaven and smartly dressed, with gold rimmed spectacles like a clever businessman and he-“, but before he could get over with his description of a ‘clever businessman’ he was interrupted by a clever remark from his brother who had just had a brainwave, “Wait a minute, wait a minute, I remember mother had once told me that nobody in our family has ever had to wear spectacles, so it is unlikely that Father wears spectacles”... On and on they went, the little kids arguing about how their beloved Father would look. Little did they know what fate had in store for them.
They were excited, as any child would be to see his father for the first time or perhaps it is wrong to say that. It was not the first time they were to meet their father because they had actually stayed with him in the very early years of childhood, until a flood had forced them to abandon their village along with their mother, a religious lady but not so much ‘religious’ towards her marriage. The father, a farmer from the core of his heart had refused to abandon his fields to live in the city with his in-laws and had preferred to stay in the state-aided temporary camps just outside the cluster of flooded villages while the mother, a city dweller dragged to village after marriage grabbed the opportunity to return to the city and the ‘proper bringing up of the children’ came as a handy excuse.

Six years, six long years had passed and the two children had forgotten their father almost completely except for his name which was to be uttered on enquiry or written when the English schools which they attended demanded forms to be filled up. Their mother, her parents and her married sister was their complete family and a beautiful mansion their dwelling place. Finally she decided to let them meet their father who, she had told them was a ‘businessman’ being ashamed of calling him a farmer. On the other hand, after the floods the farmer had borrowed heavily from a moneylender to buy seed for his land but his land like his wife betrayed him. A crop failure forced him to give up farming. In order to clear his debt and to keep his body and soul together he sold his land and bought a few cows and gradually evolved to be the village milkman.
“But then, there has to be a garden. All houses in villages have a garden. Don’t they? “, said one of the little boys interrupting the other for the millionth time but before the other could reply the bus screeched to a halt. Following perfectly, the directions given to them by their mother, the two of them decided to alight and began to walk carefully observing their surroundings for a signboard that read a certain name where their father would meet them. They walked on, talking gaily about how their father would receive them. After a few minutes they noticed a thick crowd gathered around something on the road. While one of the two stood away from it, the other approached the crowd to satisfy his curiosity.
He returned saying-”They say, the village milkman was hit by a truck and is lying dead on the road”
“Oh! God”
“I feel so sad for his family”
“Yes, but there is nothing we can do about it. Let’s go. Father must be waiting.”