Rich Father

I saw my friend jump off from the front bar of her Father's cycle and come smiling towards me. We both learned to dance together, Indian traditional dance. My friend and I shared a joke about the half-nuts teacher and went to the dance room.

After finishing we came out, I hailed my driver while she waited for her Father. Somehow she never looked even slightly embarrassed that her father was so poor that he dropped her himself on a cycle. There was always a bright chirpy happiness about her. 

But I thought of her great fortune as I sat in my car, driven home by our driver. My father liked to drink often, and though we had a beautiful large home with servants and several cars, he abused us by usurping many hours from our evening and  talking about all and sundry, from philosophy to psychology and if we were not absolutely subservient and agreed with him on everything he would not hesitate to verbally lash out at us. This was sometimes three days out of seven of our week. He also behaved atrociously at times though he never actually physically abused us it was a severe form of mental abuse. We lived in fear of what would happen on those evenings. My Mother was too afraid of society to take a bold step and too confused, sad, and tired to protect us . 

My friend was indeed fortunate to have a Father who loved her and dropped her himself on his cycle. Did I dream in some past birth for a rich Father? Now I dream of a poor one.


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