To read the second part of the series click here.
" 1, 2, 3 and 4". With dubstep playing the back ground the boy had been practicing for a month now, a month since the bubble popped and he had not missed practice nor had he missed studying all he could.
His routine was looking perfect; he was practicing for the sake of it with no impending event or competition, that is what surprised everyone. A total of 3 hours everyday and this cost him a good deal of money each month. He paid mostly from his pocket money sourced from his cash prizes he won from competitions in the past they were slowly running out. In fact, this would be the last time he could pay, he would have to ask his dad.That was always a hard thing to do . This troubled him or rather fueled him to practice harder as the days went by.
Later that day. "Dad, I need to pay for my dance studio."
"Uh it's around 3k."
"I thought it was 2k. Are you participating in some other competition, asking extra for the costume?"
Trying to keep calm and answer his father's question or should I say, accusation, he replied, "No dad, it's increased since then, for reasons of rent and maintenance. And NO, I am not participating in any competition, if you let me I would not be asking you for money."
He instantly regretted saying that and the tone he had said that in.
"Ahaan, so you paid on your own for so long I suppose you can do it again this month. I got some work back home, so bye."
All the dance competitions were done, he could not think of any other way to make means meet. He would have to ask his mother.
"Your father said that huh?", replied the mom when the boy explained what happened.
" Yes mom. I was thinking if you could talk to him." he was cut off before he could finish his proposition.
"See boy he said no. You already know our financial condition and I think you should stop going to that studio of yours. You only have 5 months more till your boards and entrances..." after this point the boy didn't pay attention, he simply walked away.
It was a bright Sunday morning that day but the boy walked back to his room with no hope of paying the fees.
Little did his mother blinded by the dream of a fat pay package for her son realize that her son was only clinging on to dance as his string of hope while everything else was keeping him in the dark, well you can not blame the mother too, she lost her edge through the bad years and those meaningless fights with the father.
It had been 3 days and the father had recovered faster than the doctors had expected him to; after all the man was a fighter. He had a history of coming back alive after taking serious hits to his health and his business but only by the skin of his teeth. This would have been good to hear if he was not married and had a family to support. Sustenance is important to a family, not heroics.
The drive back home was quiet, with occasional small talk with the taxi driver to provide him with direction.
The boy unlocked the door while his parents climbed up the stairs rather slowly. He rushed inside collected his duffel bag, keys and his helmet.
"Where are you going? We only just got in!" the mother asked in a shrill tone.
"No! "cough" Let him go ...", the father said with a weak voice.
It appeared as so the boy did not wait for permission nor did he give heed to what they were even talking about and had already left.
The father and mother had settled down and had a glass of water. The mother looked at the blood stain and cleaned it up immediately. She mumbled, probably that the police had cordoned of her flat from her but forgot to clean the blood stains. Meanwhile the father proceeded to the study, locked the door and what he did inside that room, only he could answer.
The mother tried calling the son, to find out where he was and what he was doing for dinner, with no luck she later realized that he was either at his friend's place or at the studio and he would manage dinner.
Dinner for two was ordered and the table was set. Like most days the father only came out to eat and sleep, today was going to be different .
"So why suicide?" she asked out of the blue.
"You still think I tried to commit suicide, we have been married for 18 years and were in love for the first 8 years and yet you know so little and you call yourself a psychiatrist." he bumbled with food in his mouth.
"Oh no, I know you do not have the guts to take your own life and I know you well enough. I would have still been a practitioner in psychology if you did not have that male chauvinistic ego." she replied with a smirk on her face.
"Then why ask? Why not let me eat in peace?", he replied rather annoyed.
He had liked his solitude the past few days in the hospital. But his solitude was not supported with peace, since life insurances do not cover suicide attempts. His meager savings came to the rescue. Now he would have to work, harder than before. He was a 50 year old man and had spent the little he had left from his so called retirement fund. His solitude was disrupted when she replied.
Why did you say this was a suicide attempt? We both know how this happened! Why did you lie to the police and the psychiatrist?" she shrieked, a little bit of love was still left in her. For some reason she fell in love with a person whom she admired and now felt as though she was talking to a stranger. She was partially to blame, when in love you encourage your partner to follow their dreams, she only later realized that she would also have to face some consequences and in facing those consequences she would change her. From being loving and supportive to being bitter and vengeful.
And ruin my son's career even before it starts?" he exclaimed, clearly taking its toll on his diaphragm.
Before, she could attempt to answer he got up to wash his hands and walked towards the room, he turned around and said, "Dreams have their consequences. This is mine" pointing to the wound," and yours is your misery."
When all hope is lost, when you seem to be drifting of into the depths of depression you beat around and try to find the silver lining and at most times you end up latching on to the wrong mindset.
The boy only of 17 tried hard all day to do what was necessary. He asked for a favor, he looked at all possibilities and saw one opportunity.
He had videos of himself dancing, he sat down and edited them and made them look professional. He sent them to choreographers and dance academies, in hope that he would either be called for an internship which would let him dance and also pay. To his dismay they only hired 18 year olds, he was only 5 months short and everybody who responded praised his skills but asked him to concentrate on his exams and apply later.
If it was easier done than said. The fire would only become bigger after this.
To be continued ...
Cover Image by Hungry4Pics