Pratul stood in the drawing room. Sitting on the sofa in the drawing room was Pratul’s father Mr Katyal. He was watching his evening news with a cup of tea.
“He is not the easiest person to be around, you know how he can be sometimes. It’s like we are from completely different worlds,” Pratul’s mother, Mrs Katyal had told Pratul before she decided to move back to her parent’s house. This was one year after Pratul had started working. More than two years had passed since then, and the photos of her trip abroad that Mrs Katyal had sent to Pratul, clearly showed that she had no intention of coming back any time soon.
“You know, you have a huge responsibility,” Pratul’s married elder sister, Sanah had told Atul
“What kind of responsibility?” Pratul had asked
“You are going to be the bridge that will keep them connected,” replied Sanah
“But I don’t want to be their bridge”
“Why, do you want them to fall apart completely?”
Pratul had not responded to that.
In the news the news anchor was talking about the upcoming elections, a time when Mr Katyal was glued to the television. He hadn’t noticed Pratul standing. Then the bell rang and Pratul went and opened the door. It was a delivery agent delivering a package.
When Pratul returned, Mr Katyal noticed the package and lowered the volume of the television.
“Is that mine?” asked Mr Katyal
“Yes,” said Pratul reading the label on the package and handing it over
Mr Katyal opened the package; it was a smartphone and one of the most expensive ones in the market (keeping aside the gold plated and diamond studded ones).
“That’s an expensive one,” said Pratul
“Yes, why shouldn’t I enjoy my life,” said Mr Katyal
Pratul understood what had led to this.
“Father, I need to speak to you,” said Pratul
“If it is about mending things with your mother than forget it, we both are happy in our lives,” said Mr Katyal
Pratul knew Mrs Katyal was happy but his father rarely left the house except for office and other necessities and this new thing about ordering online had further deteriorated the situation.
“Its not about you both,” said Pratul
“Oh,” said Mr Katyal with disappointment evident on his face, “then what is it?”
Pratul took a deep breath and began to speak, “There is this girl..”
“Does she have a name?” asked Mr Katyal
“I was going to say it,” Pratul responded calmly, “Her name his Sanah”
“Nice name. Haven’t heard it in a while. She must be your fellow colleague at the office” said Mr Katyal
“No, she was in my college”
“So, she has found a good job. Congratulations to her.”
“She has a good job, but that is not what this is about father,” said Pratul who, unlike his mother, had still not reached his limit of tolerating his father’s ‘know everything beforehand’ attitude.
“Alright I understand.. she needs some form of help and you want to help her out. Go ahead tell me. Are you both deciding to quit your jobs and start a business? It’s a risky but a good idea if you can do it right,” said Mr Katyal
In the past, when Pratul’s paternal grandmother was still alive and Pratul was still in school, he once heard her speaking about his father to his mother, “Sanjay was a very shy kid in school, we were of course very worried what would happen to him in his future. Thus, we were very surprised to hear that he wanted to study mass communication at the university and become a journalist. We were certain that this dream would end briefly. But it continued and one day we found Sanjay had found his inspiration to speak and he spoke and spoke, beyond what we were maybe prepared to hear.”
“Father… Sanah is a friend… I mean more than a friend. We are in a relationship, have been for years now and we would like to… make it more, I mean marriage. We would like to marry each other,” said Pratul at once
“Oh, okay. Let me think about it,” said Mr Katyal while something on the news caught his attention and he increased the volume of the television and got busy watching it. He didn’t get back to Pratul with a response, not that day and not the next three days.
Mrs Katyal sighed on the phone, “I will talk to him, Pratul. Don’t worry.”
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Early Morning Memories 