Scars of the early Mishaps- I

Previous- As I Am..

The scars of my early Mishaps still scare me..

Once all three of us were walking by the lane. My mom wore a Dark Magenta Silk Saree with Huge Black motifs, I was on my dad’s lap. Oh I loved it. This was my pre- school days. I happen to crave for an ice- cream & my dad bought a raspberry candy. By this time my mom stood beside a milestone a few metres away & that was enough for my dad to throw the candy in the ditch, slap me & made me swear not to drool for Ice- creams ever..

A few years later, he had made it his habit to buy a cup Ice- Cream almost everyday while coming back from Work.

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It was a few days after my award receiving day that my dad threw a huge tantrum- “Why does she spend so much time with Ashok; am not I her father?” Even though I loved him the most so much so that my mom was pretty envious & used to be said about the fact, I was equally fond of my uncle too. I used to be with my dad for all his time at home, be it for walks, Ice- creams or the night’s sleep. Even as a child then I used to be pretty uncomfortable speaking with both of them at once..! It used to be 1 on 1 conversation instead of 3 people talking together. My Uncle was so hurt that he nearly pushed me & I hurt my chin which was a minor scar. My dad blew it out of proportion & had yelled “Why does she spend so much time with Ashok; am not I her father?”

Three years later while my summer vacations were nearing end, Ashok offered to iron my Uniform & he did. I felt strange & found myself to be in a spot. My dad had called me & sad- “The day I am dead, you are to ask for any help from Ashok..” I had mustered up courage to ask back that it was only my school uniform that he had ironed; my dad repeated his words.

I have been yearning for last 21 years now to yell & ask my dad-

Are you dead??

&

When would you die so I would answer that both of my parents are dead each time people ask me about my father??

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Crankling of the kitchen Utensils when they would hit the floor & flying Groceries was an usual phenomena at our (?) home. I was strictly advised to be in the bed & never try to cram out to sneak peek. Only I would have to actually brave the Hovering Objects & collect a weeping woman from a corner to our Bed. Few days would go by peacefully after which the whole Act would be repeated again.

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My mom one day sat me down & told me to stop behaving like a kid (!!) That I should no longer look forward to any celebrations & that I would only be eligible to celebrate my Birthday the day I become Independent.. Financially & of anyone trying to suppress me. That if I don’t study well, I would have to be dependent on someone & that could be to his advantage..

I also want to ask him-

Am I born yet, since I dint see anybody rejoicing?

When will I be born so I start celebrating atleast of being Alive?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

After a few days Ashok prophesied what I am still going through- loads of Durgati (ILLFATE)

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My dad almost made it a regular issue while I used to serve his dinner. We used to sit on floor & have food. Dad in his room; & rest of us in other. He used to sit on his Diwan while I would carry his Thali to him in his room. I would move his slippers a bit, to place his Thali on floor, & he would throw tantrums that I had flung his slippers away.. This went on for some time till one day I placed his Dinner Thali right on his slippers. I feel both funny & awkward while writing this across but the satisfaction that I gained doing so then was something that my mom ought to have done.

Years later when I grew up, my mom disclosed to me how my dad would throw the food on floor & make my mom eat from it in name of Manliness. How she would be dragged across the room by her hair & made to eat the food that he would have stomped upon.

Someone please tell me what satiation did he derive out of this exercise?

I wish I had made him eat straight from his slippers instead of Thali being the barrier.

It was only after Ashok’s arrival that this portion of torture stopped.

Only that, he were to start his set of Tortures in the years to come.

This was before I was born– that Ashok & Sukhendu were best of Pals. Would spend the evening together playing cards, would not eat alone & would talk till late. After one such fight that Ashok witnessed, he had warned Sukhendu that he (Ashok) would break his limbs if he would see it ever again.

Just that Ashok managed to scar my whole Life & not restrict till the limbs alone.

Scars of early Mishaps- II

  • Filed under- My Life Instances. Follow the link for Continuity, Relevance or Reference


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About Olivia

Corporate worker, textile designer, writer.
This entry was posted in My Biopic Log, Our Society and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Scars of the early Mishaps- I

  1. Pingback: Parched Courtyard of my Life | Olivia's Life Instances..

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  3. Pingback: My (Mom’s) Red Lipstick | Olivia's Life Instances..

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