After an unproductive day topped off with an overcrowded 35 minute bus ride, a father and a failed businessman reaches his second home in another city.
The suburban streets are filled with darkness only illuminated by a few street lamps; the only company he could find were his own footsteps and a handful of street dogs.
As he slowly approaches the building, he climbs up the stairs to his apartment and mentally prepares himself. He sports a smile just like how his family, consisting of his wife and a 17 year old son does. There was the everyday's qualm of misery masked behind the smiles.
It was already late and the father expected a closed door and house as dark as his heart but to his surprise the door was open.
He stepped inside, considerate of the fact that both his wife and son would have gone to sleep and forgot to close the main door to their apartment.
Meanwhile, the 17 year old sat in the darkness of the hall pondering over what he was really meant for.
Like any other teenager who contemplates, he thought about what his parents wanted for him; ironically he knew that but not the other way around.
For the past two years in this new city he had adapted quickly but had he accepted it was another question altogether. He was a person of silence, he looked at things with a sense of failure, he had fits of rage and his parents only assumed that it was because of his failure to live up to his own expectations of reaching high scores in tests.
But was that really why he had those fits of rage? Was it because his relationship with his parents was rather strained? Or his girlfriend and his sweetheart had changed beyond recognition and expected something out of him?
Or was it because of his friends, were they actually his friends?
He had found solace in dance, dancing with an energy no one had seen before. People assumed his academic failure fueled his passion for dance and this time people were right but to his dismay his parents diplomatically or should I say emotionally tackled his passion down and got it locked up in a file full of certificates .
My narration of the boy's train of thoughts is disrupted by what follows.
"Son, what are you doing sitting in the dark? Go sleep!" the father said with a stern but calm voice.
"Father, what are you doing in a company economically crippled and failing everyday?" asked the son, calmly.
"That is none of your business. All you need to worry about is your academics." replied the father, slowly raising his voice.
"Father, how come you follow your passion while putting your reputation, your life savings and endangering both your family and your health? Why shouldn't I follow mine? I clearly am better and I know what I am doing unlike you!" and even after saying this, there was an eerie yet calm expression on the son`s face.
This ringed true in the father`s ears. It made a lot of sense. That hurt, a lot, but not as much as hitting the floor with a knife deep into your mediastinum.
Before he knew it, he held the knife tightly and drifted off into nothingness filled with regret ...
While the father drifted off into nothingness, the mother lay asleep unaware of her troubled sons's sins or was she?
She got married, arranged, to a pragmatic man of values, energy and a dream. They had a boy in no less than year after they got married and aspired to raise the boy like a king. They could afford to after all, until things went bad. Very bad.
A dream is never too big, they say. They were right. Dreaming has consequences and it always takes its toll; now that, they never said.
To be continued...
Cover Image by Hungry4Pics