Except for the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he saw his father smile, his had been a normal family, content and at peace with the world.
Then something strange happened. His mother suddenly withdrew into a shell, his sister simply stopped talking to anyone and his father seemed too busy trying to mint money ‘for the sake of the family’. At least that’s what he told the kids when he left a decent paying job to start his own ‘business’.
He seemed unwanted, lost and a stranger in his own house. Repeated prodding brought out nothing from his mother. “Go study, son,” was her standard reply. The almost zero interaction between his parents and the ‘outbursts’ of his father, which were becoming more frequent these days, led him to conclude that something was seriously wrong.
But he had other things to worry about. This was his ‘crucial’ year (as they describe the 12th grade in India) he was to take the Engineering entrance test early next year, and given the cut-throat competition, he couldn’t afford such distractions.
He used to go to a local coaching institute and the situation at home clearly reflected in his performance. His parents were summoned. Little did he know that day was to change his life.
After the usual ‘counselling’ from his teachers and assurances by his parents to be more involved in his progress, they started for home.
Lately his mother always sat in the rear seat and today was no exception. His mother took the first step and told his father “If only you had paid more attention to things at home, he would have not performed so badly.” This brought out his father’s patented ghastly and frustrated look; he shot back that he could not be expected to be bothered by trivial matters such as these and expected things at home to be handled by her.
“Yes, I understand, if you spend more time at home who would sit around and have coffee with Sruti all day?” This comment had a bombshell effect on his father. He was not used to being questioned and here he was being accused of being disloyal to his wife right in front of his son. Nothing could be worse than this.
What followed was something he still shudders to think to this day. All he could remember was stopping his mother from jumping out from the moving car and screaming hysterically to his father to stop the car, who didn’t seem to give a damn.
They reached home. The first thing he did was to keep his TV on full volume and take his sister along with him to the terrace. However, his parents’ arguments were so heated, even the TV proved futile. Then he heard a loud ‘thud’ and everything fell silent. He felt scared to go down and check. Later in the night, he mustered courage and along with his sister went down. His father was deep asleep and his mother nowhere to be seen. They checked the entire house and finally heard sobs coming from the bathroom. It was locked from inside. He called out to his mother, pleaded her to come out, to no avail. It was only after four full days locked in the bathroom did she come out.
Since then things have never been the same. Though the ideal way out would have been a divorce, his mother could never bring herself to deal with the social stigma such an act would bring upon her kids and her and hence continued her wretched existence to keep up appearances.
Since that day he had lost his emotions. He fared badly in his examinations and had to settle for a college in a faraway place. But in the inner recesses of his mind he was happy to leave this hell-hole.
Time passed. Though his mother used to call him up sometimes, it was mostly to unload her worries rather than inquire about him. His father was even more blunt. A call at the start of the semester to find out about his fees, that was about it.
He had a hard time trying in ‘fit’ in with the crowd; everyone else seemed to have perfect families. Not that he complained but he often used to wonder, “Why me?”
His past clearly had an effect on his social bearings. He could not communicate freely lest he opened up and broke down, and always remained aloof and remained a mystery to his batch-mates.
Obviously he again failed in the second bar set by Indian society: college placements. His father was furious, though he didn’t know if it was because of sincere concern about him or because of losing the money spent on educating him. His mother was nonchalant.
He had no job, no goal and was absolutely clueless on what to do in his life.
He knew he had to do something and this was when he chanced upon one of his friends (one among his few) at the local market. His friend’s father was a civil contractor and made quite a decent living. During their conversations his friend happened to mention that his father had got a contract to lay a road in the naxal-infested Bastar, Chhattisgarh and was facing difficulty in finding a person to monitor the project as no one was willing to go there.
He saw his chance. He needed to escape the jeering remarks of the society. He explained that given a chance he would only be too willing to go. After all, he was a civil engineer (though not a good one) and could be of some help; his friend’s face lit up and he promised to discuss it with his father.
Thereafter things moved quickly. Within two weeks he was packing his bags for Bastar. His father grudgingly realised that this glob of fat (his son) was good for something after all, and his mother (like all mothers) told him to take care of himself and be safe.
Everything said and done, he left home, promising to return after six to eight months.
Time flew, and the situation in Bastar continued to deteriorate.
One sunny morning his father got a call from his son’s employers. “Your son was killed yesterday when a naxal group raided his construction camp. Please accept our condolences.” The news didn’t numb his father; he knew something bad would happen some day, though he did regret not asking him to come back.
What did numb him was another phone call that followed. This was one from one of the survivors of the attack. He was his son’s cook. What he told him had an effect of a bombshell on his father.
This was what he had to say: “We had just finished the day’s work and had come back to the camp. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity at the gates with two to three police vehicles approaching at high speed. The police personnel met saab (his son) and told him they had received actionable intelligence that the naxals were to strike the camp either that night or in the next few days. Since they were quite thinly stretched, they told saab to vacate the camp and relocate to the police camp till the threat subsided. Without entirely dismissing their case, he assured them that he would do the needful that night itself. He told us men to get ready to move immediately, and said he would join us the next day. Since I doubled up as saab’s cook, I stayed with him in the camp. Around midnight, the attack came.
The naxal horde descended on the camp and wiped clean whatever semblance of protection that existed. We were already awake and I ran to get the vehicle started to make a getaway. This is when I noticed a strange smile of serenity on saab’s face. He pulled me closer and told me that once this got over I should call you and say: “I win, dad.” I thought he had gone mad and escaped with my life. The last I saw of him was he walking with a spring in his step, as if nothing was going on, towards the gate. It was as if he was waiting for that moment for his whole life. I am sorry sir, but I was helpless.”
Who do you blame? Was it his parents, was it society, was it peer pressure or was it because he was just plain old stupid and couldn’t adapt to the times?
Whoever it was, it was the ‘misfit’ who had the final laugh.
Are the failures we see around us, really failures because they had failed to adhere or achieve certain socially stipulated norms by which ‘success’ is measured? Isn’t it time we broadened our mindset? Isn’t it time we realised
that there is a story behind everyone? Isn’t it time that we truly evolve into an “inclusive” society where people are not stigmatised and judged at every step?
