Chapter 8

 

At least I wasn’t scared of doing homework now. Earlier I would freak out and try to avoid homework on the grounds of not liking the subject. Doing something that you didn’t like was drummed out of me in lawschool and not finishing a task was a needle in my eventual OCD consciousness.

It was surprisingly easy to wrap up matters in a couple of hours. I suddenly realized that I hated homework because I hated certain subjects and avoided them till forced to do so. Now, algebra was simple (I would have killed for a laptop loaded with MS Excel, although) and English, Social Studies were plain sailing. Science was still sticky, especially chemistry – but basic homework was a matter of repetition and not necessarily problem solving.

Engrossed as I was in resolving the problems set in maths, I did not hear my father’s car drive in and by the time I had finished, he was looking at me with such stupefaction that it was like a rush of adrenaline. I loved surprising the old man – he and I would become fast friends over the years and I would often see that look on his face whenever I did something well. As if he was expecting to be pinched and told it was a dream….Still, couldn’t help being me and gave him a cheeky grin and pointed at my homework, piled on my desk. His face showed what a loss he was at.

It was a good moment….

Dinner was largely a silent affair in our house then. Mom and Dad had unresolved issues which would get more prickly over time and result in a lot of heartache growing up. As I sat there, chewing on roti’s and seriously poly-saturated transfats, I wondered if this was what I was sent back to resolve…

I mean, seriously? That’s so corny as to be almost Bollywood….

I would do criminal psychology and even more interesting stuff in later years, but the concept of trying to resolve my folk’s differences were so .. icky that I nearly choked.

“What’s wrong? Too spicy?” asked Pa. I would grow up to adore spicy food as a legacy from him and pay for it in ulcers and worse.

“No, I was just thinking something..”

“What about? I am still trying to understand how you drove the car today. Is there something you would like to talk about?”

Shit….not where I wanted to go. But I needed a speedy resolution to this school business – I had no intentions of explaining how to get whisky and women to Amitabh and his heavies.

I decided to go for flat broke and see where it would lead me….

“Do you believe in extra sensory perception or similar matters?” I asked, hoping for an oblique angle to outright crazy.

“Extra Sensory Perception – what in the world is that supposed to be?” quizzed a perplexed Pa.

“Well, for instance – would it be possible for me to grow up, be a successful lawyer or consultant, study abroad and have loads of experiences, learn lots of stuff and yet return back to my current self with all that knowledge and abilities”

I got a solid stare from both parents – mom didn’t quite follow all that so she answered first,

“Stop dreaming about being successful and just think about passing this year without any grace-marks or red-letters” she snapped.

Ah, the angst of a failed and miserable marriage and desperation dumped on her children makes its appearance, I thought to myself.

My childhood was not particularly pretty or even unique – my parent’s generation did not get the benefit of marriage counseling and by the time, they had finished inflicting childhood trauma and indirect abuse, they refused to admit to its existence. Mine refused to believe that they had ever been horrible to us or even caused psychological scarring or trauma – it was basically “character-building” and none of this “modern nonsense”.

I wondered if it was worth baiting my mother and cause a scene – we used to have amazingly violent ones I remembered, but it was not worth it. I had bigger fish to fry and school to get out of.

“Okay, suppose I could do something that a grown up could do – would that convince you of this theory?” I asked papa.

“Just keep quiet and eat your food – you have school tomorrow and I don’t want to waste another hour to wake you up and get your brother ready as well”, Ma snapped again, clearly losing her usual temper.

I wondered how she lost it, when it was always near her, bubbling barely below the surface of her frayed existence. But, keeping my silence I chomped my food down.

By the time I was brushing my teeth, papa showed up to wish us and tuck us in. He would check the doors and kiss us both on the forehead each night – a tradition that would stay till both boys left home for college. But tonight, he looked disturbed and sat down on my bed as I climbed in.

“You know, you can talk to me anytime you want. Growing up is not easy and if there’s anything you want to talk about, I am here….” he started.

The poor man was making heavy progress on the typical birds and bees convo. I remembered that it was more brisk and confident with bro.

“Pa, I already know all there is to know about sex and all that, don’t worry” I cheerily informed him.

Ah, was that a look of relief or shock?

“You really shouldn’t read books from my shelves – you’ll get all the wrong ideas, you precocious brat” he grumbles.

I decided to take the plunge.

“Wrong ideas like quitting your job to develop the Silpukhuri property?” I asked, looking at him steadily.

Dad would eventually resign from his job and do exactly later that but was planning it for a while. I knew because he often spoke how hard it was for him to leave his job and take a chance like that. Typical of his generation, he thought about the decision, communicated with no one and just went ahead and did it one day. It was a big deal for a serviceman with two children and a wife to support to take a decision like that, especially in those days.

But now, he was absolutely thunder-stuck.

“Who told you that?” he murmured, shell-shocked at hearing his deepest ideas

“You have been thinking about nothing else but that – don’t worry, it’s a great idea. It’ll work out well and you can concentrate on other stuff eventually – like your writing etc.” I declared very quietly.

Bro was asleep by now, but Pa and I were wide awake – this was beyond belief for him, normalcy for me. An adult conversation with his 14 yr old son was definitely not something he had envisaged this evening.

He was still trying to come to grips with the idea that I could even hold an adult conversation. For him, I was his simpleton son who had very poor prospects and not much interest in studies. And suddenly, the tectonic plates had shifted.

I decided to push the damn envelope like it has never been pushed…

“Of course, the financing will have to be structured very carefully – and you should stay on with your job till the very last minute to ensure that you get every benefit of the banks as a career serviceman. You should also do the whole building, stage by stage but plan for eventual leveraging and restructuring the loan or mortgage to allow for flexibility in repayment or more development of the land”

I got that out in a very slow and controlled manner – it was like I had taken a sledgehammer to my beloved father’s mind as he digested my words.

“What are you playing at? Are you making fun of me by reading words from some novel?” he finally stammered out.

I kept silent as I watched the tell-tale signs of anger replacing wonderment and incomprehension. This would have to be delicate, but how? Dealing with your father is not like dealing with a client – that too as an adolescent who could and possibly would get a thrashing for trying to pull his father’s leg about a deadly serious subject.

“I love you papa and you cannot imagine the amount of respect I have for you. You’re my best friend and hero in the whole world. I know how much you have struggled since your dad passed away and how difficult it has been with granny first and then Ma. But I really need you to listen to me now – something has happened that I cannot explain. The only way I can explain is perhaps when we are alone tomorrow. So, let’s sleep on this and we’ll talk again tomorrow. Okay?”

My dad looked at me for a while then and finally nodded and walked away. He did not kiss me goodnight as I remembered him doing to us till we left for college.

I had well and truly shaken my father up.

What was next?