Adi

Adi walked home, his mind in a state of turmoil. He had got his mid term marks and he had yet again managed to score below 90 in Math. He could sense the look of rage and fury on his father’s face when he would break this news to him. He felt his legs go weak and throat go dry. It was a long walk from the school to his house and he enjoyed this daily trekking, sans on those days when he got his math marks.
Adi was bad with numbers and no amount of pleading about his indifference to this subject could make his dad understand. He simply could not conquer the notions of the elementary arithmetic and always was in a state of daze when kunjunni master went on droning about geometry, in his raucous phlegm cluttered voice.
His father was a mechanic and a god fearing, hard working person. Unlike his group of friends who wasted a good part of their earnings on the local arrack and toddy, adi’s father never dwindled away money. “Raman nair is a man of character” thus the village folks spoke of his father. Adi had lost his mother at a very small age and did not have any recollections of her.
The respect with which the village folks treated his father for his hard work, did not translate into love, which adi had for his dad. His dad was quite adamant about the fact that he wanted adi to do well in his studies, particularly math, and become a collector one day. During those times, this office represented one of the highest seats of achievements that parents would wish for their children. And his father had some notion in him, which was partially correct, that you needed good math marks to succeed in life.

And how he got angry when adi scored below 90. adi would never forget those days when he would have to break the news of getting low marks and the image that came to his mind was his father pushing his plate of porridge away and getting up from the floor in a fit of rage, reaching for the wooden cane and flagging him on his back, till it made red marks. He would then curse math, he would curse his father and for good measure, would curse his mother also, for not being there to take his side in this punishment.
He would cry to sleep on those days and would wake up the next day and take the report to his dad, to be signed for the school. He could never understand the look of sadness in his father’s eyes when he signed the report without muttering a word. Adi knew that his father would not go to work that day.
When his friends boasted about their dad’s job or how they were taken to the nearby pond to learn swimming, adi could not bear to think of his father. He hated him. He hated him because he could not imagine his father loving him. He hated him because he hated math. He hated him because of the marks on his back and thigh, which came from the flagging.

It was the monsoon season. Adi fell ill and could not get up in the morning. He called out to his dad “Accha..enikku schoolil pokan vayya” (“Dad, I am feeling ill to go to school”).
His dad barked back “you rascal, you don’t want to sit in the math class do you? Get ready quickly and scamper off”. This continued for 3 days and adi became weaker day by day. His appetite went out and he was scarcely eating now. He was running a high temperature and he never had the courage or the inclination to tell this to his father.
And then one day, he fainted in the middle of the class. In the math class.
Kunjunni master rushed to the principal’s room and told his about this. The principal, a man of wisdom, came to the class, shooed away the on-looking boys and girls, took a handful of water and poured it on adi’s face. He did not respond. He ran a hand over the boy’s forehead.
“This looks to be serious” he called out to the peon
“Babu, get sulaiman’s taxi and inform raman nair”.
Word was sent to raman nair and adi was taken to the local dispensary.

Adi could feel the principal keeping a wet cloth over his forehead, while the taxi was taking them to the dispensary. He could hear the words and feel their actions. He could not open his eyes. He felt as if he was losing his senses and he could just manage to breathe. He could sense the rancid smell of the dispensary and the hardness of the hospital bed. He could hear the principal enquiring of the peon
“Hasn’t raman nair been informed yet?”
“Yes master saab. He would be here soon”

And then, his father came into the room.
“What is this raman nair, this boy has been running a temperature for the last 3 days. Didn’t he complain of illness?”
“Principal saar, he had told me, I didn’t believe him”.
“You could have at least made sure. I am going back to the school. Let the boy rest for a couple of days. The doctor said he is lucky not to have died”

The door closed behind the principal and adi could feel his father come and sit beside him. He could feel the silence hanging there in the room. He could not open his eyes, still.
Then he heard it. He didn’t know what the sound was. It started as a stutter and then he heard a soft sob. Then the sobs became loud till he could not, but believe his ears, that his father was crying.
Adi was scared in his dazed state also. He had never heard or seen his father cry.
Then it dawned on him. His father was weeping for him. He loved him. It made him feel shameless about his hatred of his father. If only he could open his eyes and tell his dad that it was okay.
All those years of hatred dissolved within him and he could feel the fever draining out of his body, taking along with it, the hatred. He felt at peace and he felt his father’s hand on his forehead. He smiled.