Father overrides his strict order

 I was often admonished for my nocturnal ways; however, one day my father how soft he was inside.

My nocturnal ways:  Something reflexive in me prevents following the universal precept of ‘early to bed’. For my nocturnal habit, I drew flak perennially that began in my teens with almost daily admonitions from my father. I relate this owl-like habit partly to my acculturation as an evening student. Unlike the evening colleges of Delhi University now, which observe 2 pm to 5 pm schedule, an ‘evening’ college in our baccalaureate days of 70s actually meant so, with classes between 6.20 pm and 9.20 pm. I also relate my nocturnal habits to my time of birth in late afternoon. My plea for staying more focused, and greater ease in my writing work at night was always dismissed.

That memorable wintry night:  After dinner, if not immersed till late hours in books, I went on long strolls with a like-minded, real creative. In this slot we freely shared our concerns, mostly the plots of his prospective poems or stories. On return, all family members except my mom were almost asleep.

Over years, there was change in father’s reprimands. From daily, it turned occasional and laconic, though not less l loaded. Feeling clueless to mend my nocturnal ways and his ire full steam, one day he issued commandment denying my entry after 11 pm. This ruling was particularly targetted at my permissive mom. I tended to endorse that creativity often finds expression, and best of ideas come to fore in the stillness of night when disturbance from mundane ambience is minimal. I also drew support from the lines of Gita: The sage or the enlightened (Sthitpragya) keeps awake when others are asleep (Ya nisha sarvbhutanam, tasyam jagarti sanyami) and vice versa.

Not to incur the wrath of my strict father, on return from night stroll, I would tap the door with minimal noise that only my mom could notice. She actually always waited for me, I realised in retrospect. However, one day the scenario turned out to be dramatic.

That night it was already 11.30 and mild cold waves of end-November of Delhi were pricking the exposed body parts. Apprehending something amiss, I tapped the door with extra caution but there was no response. When second attempt also elicited no response, I thought of other options of spending the remaining few hours of wintry night. Knocking the door full steam or shouting when alternative is available has never been my cup of tea, and here I was in a way at fault!

When intention is not malafide, Gods come to rescue, they say. A cot lying in balcony of our ground floor government flat came as panacea. And though a woolen cover was necessary but the overcoat I was could partly help fight the wintry chills.

The other side of my strict father: Early morning, when I was found shivering, my mom in repentant demeanour cursed her sleep for my neglect. “Offer him special tea and make him rest undisturbed”, came the commandment from my otherwise authoritarian father.

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The article was earlier carried by Deccan Herald on 1Nov. 2019. Link of online newspaper-

https://www.deccanherald.com/opinion/right-in-the-middle/my-otherwise-authoritarian-father-772484.html

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