Love to create (not recreate).. Love spending time alone contemplating over my own thoughts... Camus inspires me n Wordsworth teaches me how to write! Experience is what I put into words.. n language is my tool as I believe a pen can change the world quicker n better than any other weapon!!
In the morning, I whined for my ripped clothes. Then I saw my father wearing an unstitched shirt and a pair of broken slippers. I didn’t say a word, had my breakfast and went to school. In the late evening, father reached home and placed a pair of new trousers in my hand. I looked at him as he was clothed in the same unrepaired shirt. I was quiet and at the same time overwhelmed with something unexpressible. I went straight into my room. Then I heard a conversation behind the doors. Mother said, “With your low income we are unable to feed ourselves. I could have mended the old pair of trousers for him.” Father’s reply brought tears into my eyes. He said, “But my son wanted a new one. I earn for him. I can’t see a single drop of tears in his eyes, that too for just a pair of trousers.. Not in the least! His desires are above our needs.”
After 20 years....
I got married. I had a good job. A few years later mother died. I could no more look after my father. So I left him in one of the almhouses. After six months and twenty days I got a call from them. They said, “We are sorry to inform you that your father is no more. We’ve arranged everything for the funeral and your presence is awaited.” I reached there on the given time at 2:30 pm. Funeral was all done. I didn’t shed a single drop of tears. I don’t know why but I didn’t feel like crying. After all the rituals when I was about to leave they provided me with a parcel saying it was meant for me. I could not resist and opened the box in the next moment. And what I found left me in complete regret and I started shedding tears. There was a pair of new trousers in the parcel with a note. In that note it was written, “Probably, this will remind you of me someday. Love you, my boy.”