Preference

A Story by SUGATA M

The house was left with weird silence. One-storied bungalow surrounded by a muddled garden. I was told that my father stayed here. I used to take momentary halt before the house whenever passing by to have at least a glimpse of my father. But he was never seen around.

Once I spotted a woman inside the house. She stood right behind the gate. I couldn’t see her face as it was completely under veil. She waved at me to come closer. When I neared the gate she opened the gate and brought herself out. I felt a bit scared. She put her hand on my head and murmured, ‘Please don’t come here again.’ ‘They say my father stays in this house.’ I still argued. ‘I would like to meet him.’ ‘You can never meet him.’ The woman said making her deep sigh sharply audible.’ ‘But why? Has he gone somewhere?’ I was adamant to know. The woman placed her hand on my shoulder. ‘Please go Balu and never come back.’ I was surprised that she already knew my name. ‘You know my name, how?’ She didn’t reply and pushed the gate in to put herself behind the gate again. ‘I know your everything, Balu. I pray for you every day. Don’t ask any more question. Please go and never try to search for your father. Live your life fully and happily.’ She didn’t wait and promptly vanished inside the house.

Who was the woman?

My father?

I was not sure.

They said my father had turned into a full-fledged woman. ‘They’ means my school and locality friends. Some of whom had already met the feminine version of my father. Their non-stop teasing often made my life hell. I was transformed into their preferred laughing stock being the son of a man who turned into a woman for relatively unknown reasons.

How my father could become a woman? My mother had never told me. She always stopped me whenever I wanted to ask.

My father was a forbidden name in our house. My grandparents, my uncles and aunts, everyone showered untied sympathy on my mother when my father abandoned his family for Prasun uncle. ‘He is a dead person to us.’ My grandfather conveyed his severely agitated frustration to my tearful mother. ‘Don’t harbor any feelings for a person like him in your mind. Concentrate to your son. Look after him. Raise him properly. We have full support for you.’

Those days I found my mother shedding silent tears off and on. Slowly her tears dried up. She became normal like before. My father’s name and memories were erased from everyone’s mind of the house. Except me.

I couldn’t forget my father. He loved me more than anyone else on earth. More than what my mother could even think of. He never said ‘no’ to any of my unrealistic demands. He never chided me for my childish pranks.

Absolute form of a pampering father!

He also loved Prasun uncle.

And he never loved my mother. After growing up little more I came to know that my father never wanted to marry. My grandparents literally forced him to tie the knot with my mother.

But the marriage couldn’t disrupt his linkage with Prasun uncle. He used to visit us time to time and spent hours inside my father’s room which remained locked from inside. I never missed the large piece of chocolate from Prasun uncle, so had no dearth of likings for him.

One day while playing in the garden I saw something terribly fishy through the half-opened window of my father’s room that instantly put Prasun uncle in the list of my aversion.

My father was lying on Prasun uncle’s lap. Prasun uncle was kissing my father’s lip by dipping and pressing his face hard against him. Both of them had no cloths on their bodies.

I was breathless and chocked. Next moment I rushed to the terrace to ‘Mom.’ She came up to the terrace to take a stroll daily this time in the afternoon. But that day she remained seated like a statue althrough on the arm-chair of ‘Grandpa’. Tears were constantly rolling down across her stone-like face. I bumped into her and broke in sudden, roaring tears. She placed her hand on my head and ruffled my hair. ‘This is in our destiny Balu.’ She uttered in a wrecked voice. ‘We have no way to escape.’

My father left our house soon after that. Later on I tried to figure out why he had made such drastic step.

His verboten life was exposed to his own son that probably he couldn’t digest any more.

Quest for my father started as I was growing up.

But I never met him again.

I only met the mysterious, veiled woman who knew my name.

Was she the ‘converted’, much discussed woman who was once my father?

I didn’t have the answer.

Weeks after meeting the woman I received an enveloped letter which was dropped at my school by an unknown sender. The letter said that my father doesn’t stay in the aforementioned, one-storied bungalow anymore, so I shouldn’t stop over there to meet him. It also said that my father wherever he stays in whichever way or form will always love me like before. It finally said that my father wants me to take good care of my mother throughout her life.

The letter was concluded with a direct one-liner like ‘I was surely not the right kind of father for you but I was definitely the right kind of person in terms of my preference, so whenever you would like to judge me please don’t overlook or ignore my preference.’

I didn’t know during that time what my father meant by preference.

I got the connection right after many years when there was another person like him in our family.

My son!

I failed successfully to repeat the role my grandfather this time.