He has the same lop-sided smile, Vijay thought as he observed a photograph of his 18-year old son. The photograph was taken almost five years ago when he was a happy adolescent standing beside his mother. He hadn’t seen a smile on his face in a long time. At first sight, Gautam seemed like any other teenage boy his age: brooding, quiet and holed up his room all the time. But only very few people knew that Gautam’s introverted nature had to be attributed to more than teenagers’ hormones. Gautam and Vijay shared a deep connection. A bond that went beyond the father-son relationship. They shared a common past, a common pain and a common loathing for each other.
Vijay had a deep-seated hatred towards his son. He had not spoken a word to him since that ill-fated, rainy July night four years ago. The day he lost Chitra, his wife of sixteen years. Deep down he knew that Gautam was just a child and not to be blamed for what happened to Chitra. It was an accident. But he couldn’t help but wonder what if. What if Chitra hadn’t allowed Gautam to drive that night? Gautam was a skilled, but underage driver. He didn’t have the necessary foresight or presence of mind to act quickly when their car hydroplaned.
The entire night was a blur to Vijay. He vaguely remembered being rushed to the hospital to tend to a son who was gravely injured and a wife who was pronounced dead on arrival. Overnight, he was transformed to a widower, a single father. His Chitra, the love of his life, would never return to his life again.
Slowly, he got used to living without his wife but the pain and the sense of loss never left him. And something changed forever. He would never be able to love Gautam. In every silent gaze, every unspoken word, he despised him. He wanted to punish him for taking his life away. Vijay knew he was being a bad father. He knew Gautam yearned for his affection. He knew he was failing miserably at being a good father to his motherless son and that made him hate him even more. No moral fibre in his body could make him change the feelings of bitterness he had for his son.
Ever since Chitra’s death, Vijay’s life had been the same old drill every day. His parents would take care of Gautam while he was at work. He made it a point to return as late as possible. He hated confronting his parents and after a few months, his parents didn’t bother talking to him either. There was minimal contact between him and Gautam, he made sure of it. Every night he would drink in sorrow till he passed out in the living room. It wasn’t fair. Gautam had his entire life laid out in front of him with a whole lot of possibilities.
Vijay’s life was over.
Gautam lay on his bed, listening to The Rolling Stones on his phone. It had been his mother’s favourite band. He had not paid much attention to her taste in music while she was still alive. Now, the more he discovered about his mother, the more he yearned for her presence back in his life. He missed her terribly. Four years ago, he had lost his childhood. He had lost his dear mother, and in all real sense of the word, he had lost his father too. He would never forgive himself for what he had cost his family. But he was old enough to realize that he would never forgive his father for punishing him either. The events of the fateful night played out in his head a million times, with him looking for different ways by which he could have saved his mother. He could have braked slower. Or stopped accelerating. He could have steered in the opposite direction. Or he could have just not convinced his mother to let him drive that night. But no amount of imagination would undo what had happened. Things would never be the same in his life again and with each passing day, the suffocation reached a more intense level.
He waited and waited for the day when he would finally move on. It had been more than four years since he had had a good day. He was a complete loner with no friends or acquaintances. He had not shed a single tear since his mother’s death. He tried his best to cry and let loose some of the gut-wrenching pain he was in. But it was as if his brain was denying him even the temporary relief. The sorrow consumed him completely. Each night he felt like the grief would swallow him altogether. Time heals everything, he was told. But with each passing day, he lost faith in that statement. Time had only added to his sorrow.
One night he came home to find his father already in a state of inebriation. He looked terribly gaunt and hopeless. His 47-year old father looked at least sixty years old now. The anguish in his glassy eyes made Gautam ache. When Gautam made eye contact with him, his father slurred out, murderer! and started crying inconsolably.
That was when Gautam decided to take his own life. He realized that he would never heal. He would never embrace life again. Hell, he wouldn’t even have a genuine smile on his face for the rest of his life. He was tired of it all. Of having to put up a brave face. Of having to endure his father’s scorn and his own internal battle for shredding his family to pieces in one instance of carelessness. He couldn’t take it anymore. He came back to his room and prepared to slit his wrists. Tacky, but effective, he decided. He was filled with newfound strength, a feeling of determination. I’m coming to you, mother. The pain would soon be over. He’d be happy finally.
Just as he felt the cold steel razor blade on his wrist, there was a frantic knock on the door. His grandfather stood outside with a worried expression on his face. Something was wrong. He came out to the living room to find his father motionless, sprawled over the carpet. And it was not like the daily episodes of passing out that he was used to witnessing. His father’s face had a certain calm. He looked peaceful. And suddenly, it dawned on him that his father was not part of his world anymore.
The entire thing was a haze to Gautam. The hospital doctors confirmed his father’s death. They called it acute liver cirrhosis. Basically your father drank to his death, they told him. He died of heartbreak, Gautam knew. He was drowned in a pool of emotions. Confusion, shock, but the strongest of all – and to his surprise – relief. Relief at finally being free. At not having to live under the same roof with his bitter, alcoholic father. At not having to share his sorrows. The cross he was carrying with him was almost too heavy to bear and he could finally let it down. He was alone now, but as far as knew, he had been alone ever since his mother left them. He hoped that his father was okay now, happier away from this world, probably reunited with his mother. Gautam was maimed for life, but he now believed that he had a chance after all. He stared up at the dark grey sky. I’m sorry , he mouthed. His eyes finally welled up. And the tears didn’t stop streaming down his face for a long time. He sobbed his heart out, silently. He was glad he could finally cry.
They had accepted his apology.
The fool on the hill 