Father’s Name: Th. Charugopal
Profession:Profession: Retired government employee, Imphal
“A father’s dream and a son’s rebel”.
This is not a unique but a very common phenomenon. Every father dreams his son to be something which he has always admired and could hold his head high. For every such father, there’s always a son who would not just deny to follow his father’s dream but also rebel against it and thrive for his personal admiration. Somewhat like this was also the relationship between me and my father.
Like any other Manipuri father,. my father also had the dream to have a son who is a doctor, and what boosted his confidence was my academic excellence. He could see the clear picture of me becoming a doctor (No! I didn’t become a doctor). A son who excels is always a pride for his parents and yes, I was their pride.
A happy and proud father he was for he believed that I will make his dreams come true. On this quest, he was just waiting for me to clear the higher secondary examination and appear the MBBS examination.
12th examination was cleared with enough credibility. It was time for the preparation of the BIG one. Preparation was also going on but there was no interest in it and they had hope in me to make them proud. Whether you call it a juvenile blood or an independent ambition, I had different dreams and never bothered about what they wished me to do.
Time passed by. Disinterest, ignorance and anger made me forget to submit the application form even on the last day. Hope, dreams and years of expectations of my father was shattered. A broken heart always makes some sound and the energy is transformed into a different form. Such was his anger. My father lost his cool after few days. He blamed me for everything and decided to boycott me from all the facilities, even the books. The anger or may be the disappointment made him explode all his emotions channelizing his anger in such a way that he started expressing regrets for how much he spent on me for my career. This really hurt me and provoked the rebel in me. I couldn’t resist and stand the uncalled torturous accusation.
In an instant the furious me stood up and approached towards my study table and extended my arm stretching over it. With all the energy from the anger, I ran my hand across the table thrashing all the books down the floor.
Since that day, for a long time, there had been a gap between us. Now if I think of it, it sends a shiver through my veins. The rebellious me had realized how much he had sacrificed and dedicated for me and my future which I had always misunderstood as his dictatorial wish. Despite of all these, he continued to fulfill my wishes and I continued to overlook.
I know he is not going to read this and maybe he would never come to know how I feel for the past, because like every other son, I had never shared my emotions with my father. Do I still need to say it? I think why I shared the story says it all.
Grateful to have such parents and feels so safe, secure and sound to have such a father. Any difficult situation or trouble I am in, whether or not anybody comes in rescue, I know for sure that he will be there. Neither can I ever appreciate him nor ask him for forgiveness, in person. But as much as he had been for me, I will try to be there for him as well.
Father, Father, you are my strength.
Never ever will you be stained by shame.
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