What is Wrong with my Father?
[When I was ten years old]
In a village far away from this town I am currently staying at.
Midnight.
It is raining cats and dogs. A roof tile house on the bank of a canal is bustling with activity. The power is gone and the whole house is dark.
The roof is clearly not doing its job properly as a lot of water has been leaking at several places.
The house has three rooms, connected in a straight line. The small hall, the bedroom and the kitchen, and a small bathroom outside.
In the bedroom which doesn't really have any bed, a young boy is sleeping as he hugged his blanket tightly. He is shivering and flinches now and then as he heard the sounds of his mother being beaten by his father.
I am that young boy and those two are my parents.
That night is the first time I saw the two people I mentioned. Don't be mistaken, they are definitely not my parents. While I was shivering in fear, those two appeared in front of me.
They appeared out of thin air, while I was contemplating whether I should wake up or not.
Sunny and Sam.
They are the spitting image of me.
Sunny is dressed in white and Sam is dressed in black. I am the one who actually named them before I could comprehend they are just made-up beings in my mind.
Sunny is a mellow guy. He is what every parent and society wants a kid to be. And Sam is… for a lack of a better word, let's say an asshole.
A real douche. He is a free spirit too if I might add.
As for why they appeared and how they appeared? I don't know and by now I don't care.
But from that night onwards, every time I need to make an extremely conflicting decision, they would appear and both of them would give different answers, very rarely, I mean super rarely would they agree on the same thing.
And on that night, I had the first most conflicting thought of my life and that is, 'Should I get up and stop them from fighting?' or should I lay down and continue to pretend that I am asleep?
At that moment, I got their answers.
Sunny wanted me to pretend to be asleep and even advised me to talk to my mother later. Because in that drunken state, he believed my father could do something over the line. Embarassed that his only son saw him in that pathetic state and my mother wouldn't like it.
Sam said something else. 'Just interrupt them. You hate him for doing this to your mother. Just say it out loud and he would definitely stop. If he really cares that much about pride, he would even get out of the house as soon as he knows that you are seeing this.'
But before I could make a decision, my mother fell on the floor beside me, because of a slap and whispered into my ear, as she noticed that I was awake.
"Don't wake up, Honey. Just sleep."
I still remember the loving voice, even though she was in pain I faintly saw her doting eyes. We loved each other so much, if only we could have stayed that way.
Anyway, I took her advice and pretended to be asleep and after a few hours, I finally fell asleep as the commotion slowly died down and I could feel my mother's tender hug.
My heart ached for her. But I didn't know what to do to help her.
The whole commotion in the night made me oversleep. My mother and Father though woke up early and when my father tried to wake me up, my mother didn't let him as she knew that I slept late.
An argument began which inevitably woke me up and I had to listen to this whole scenario that led to the argument. I bit my lips and went to get ready on my own clumsily but hurriedly at the same time. I came back to hear some more of their yelling and fighting.
"Do you want to know why I let him oversleep? It is because he couldn't sleep because of what happened last night. He woke up because of your drunken ruckus and started pretending to be asleep."
My mother yelled as she packed my backpack.
"Why would he be afraid of me? I am his father. He must be disgusted by your and your actions." My father clapped back.
"He is my son and he knows me well enough. I didn't raise him into a crook like you. I know what my son is and I know what he will turn out to be." My mother yelled.
"He is my son too and he would turn out just like me. One day he will question you in disgust. Let's wait and see."
My father replied and dragged me out of the house to the bus stop to catch my school bus.
I didn't have breakfast and they forgot to pack my lunch but for some reason, I was too afraid to ask them.
But when we reached the bus stop, I asked for something else that my math teacher asked me to bring.
A ruler.
"Okay let's go and buy one." My father said calmly and we both went to the nearby store.
When I saw the ruler that shop keeper gave me, I rejected it.
"I want a 30 cm ruler. Not 15 cm one." I said fearfully
"We don't have the bigger one." The shopkeeper said with a shrug.
"It doesn't matter, take it." My father said from the side.
"But that is what my teacher asked me to bring." I insisted somewhat stubbornly.
After all, every other kid is bringing one and my teacher said more than once to bring the bigger one. I didn't want to get in trouble at school and face that punishment. But if I had to choose between that punishment and what happened next, I would have chosen the punishment a hundred times over.
My father leaned down and gripped my arm tightly and said.
"I said it doesn't matter."
"But my teacher said…" *PAK*
That is it. I couldn't even finish my words before a slap landed. I stumbled out of the shop but that didn't stop there. He took a stick on the roadside and beat the crap out of me.
The whole street, including the students and some other people standing at the bus stop, spectated while my father beat me up repeatedly as if I am a street dog until the bus showed up.
My father picked me up and threw me into the bus and left.
I must say the looks I got that day were much more painful than the bruises all over my body. And as I survived the school alone without any food and only water, my mother came running to the school with lunch an hour after my lunch break.
I kept on thinking about one question which I didn't get the answer to until now.
"What the hell is wrong with my father?"