:: Daddy's Promise ::
- Jalal -
"Mr. Mohammad, this is Rachel Thomas speaking, principal of St. Mary School."
I heard the headmistress of the school, my boy goes to, on the other line.
"Yes, Ma'am?"
I answered, totally clueless about the sudden phone call. The clock read twelve o'clock. Maybe, he didn't score good in his academics, again.
"Please, come to school, as soon as possible. It's urgent. And if possible, bring Mrs. Mohammad with you."
She spoke in a monotonous tone. The solicitous feeling intensified, as this is the third call straight, in this month. I don't know, what's wrong with my son. It seems like, trouble is his middle name.
"Sure, ma'am."
I ended the call and my head automatically shook in despondency. Worry for his present and future is enough to make me depressed. Taking my laptop, I called my manager to sanction me a half day leave.
Taking my bag, I headed downstairs calling my wife, simultaneously. Settling inside my second hand car, I heard her pick up on second ring.
"Jodha, reach Salim's school, now. The Principal wants to see us."
I told her whilst reversing the gears with one hand and handling the steering with other, the gadget cushioned between my ear and shoulder.
!*!
"Have a seat, sir."
The headmistress pointed at the two seats in front of her desk. The old lady looked totally vexed upon whatsoever the situation is.
"Ma'am."
She nodded in acknowledgment, as my wife entered with my son, after me. When we reached, he was standing outside the principal's office. How much me or my wife coaxed him to tell about the situation, Salim chose to stay silent not uttering a syllable, to say the least.
After the initial pleasantries, I settled on the seat with my wife beside me. Salim stood beside me, his little forehead marred with frowns. My son is a twelfth grader, maths student. He was a bright student till his tenth but what happened afterwards was above my head to understand. My naughty carefree son has turned into an annoying reticent boy.
His academic grades with his behaviour has gone down in drains. He had picked up some bad habits, snapping, back answering, disrespecting us, are a few to recollect. We never taught him this, then where did he picked up such habits. Maybe, some bad company at his school.
I and his mother, had tried everything in our reach, sweet talking, anger, bribing gifts and even some beatings, but nothing buzzed his rebellious stance. Instead of dwindling, it has intensified.
"Your son was found smoking, at the school's terrace."
I heard the principal's angry voice booming in the otherwise silent office. Wait! What? Smoking? My eyes widened as the words sunk in. Whilst I'm sure my wife mirrored the same expressions as mine. I'm stunned, would be an understatement.
My eyes snapped up to my son, who has his eyes downcast. In a nick of moment, I heard the chair shifting beside me and in no time, a loud slap resonated in the air. My wife just hit my son.
The headmistress rendered stumped with Jodha's rigorous reaction, including me. Looks like, her patience level was up. I'd seen her succumbing into worry and anxiety watching our son, who was on the brink of destroying his career, even before it started.
"Is this what we've taught you, Salim?"
I heard her harsh tone whilst two angry tears rolled down Salim's cheeks, a bruise may have formed there. His face was contorted in acrimony. I could see his fists clenched whilst his knuckles turned white with the pressure he's digging his nails into his palms.
I held her hand and gave it a squeeze, which seemed to calmed down her a bit. Holding Salim's elbow in a tight grip, she screeched.
"Apologise now!"
It is heart breaking to see my boy turning red in indignation. His eyes couldn't hold the water in them anymore, as the hot scorched droplets rushed down on its own cord. That's it. It is my undoing.
Standing up, I tried to pry him from his mother's furious grip to which I succeeded after few attempts. Before, I could ask or do anything, he pushed his mother with all the force his lean and thin body could acquire and stormed out of the office.
Steading my wife, I looked apologetically towards the headmistress. She had empathy painted all over her face.
"I'm sorry for his behaviour, ma'am. And I assure you, this won't happen again."
From the corner of my eyes, I could perceive my wife's stupefied stance. The old lady just shook her head in understanding. As we reached the door, again she spoke from behind.
"Mr. Mohammad, I would suggest you to take it easy with him. Especially you, Mrs. Mohammad."
I nodded my head with a tight lipped smile. Whilst my wife dipped her head in something akin to shame. Well, she should be. I'm darn furious with her for the stunt she pulled up here but I can contemplate her worries. She just lost her control over her emotions. She has so many dreams and hopes attached to our child. Watching all those crush, right under her nose is heart rendering for her. I've the same feelings too but apparently in less proportions.
As we stepped out of the office, I saw a curled up figure huddled up at the corner, near the staircase. Squinting my eyes, I recognized my son. A little more my heart broke, watching him looking so... defeated.
We both walked up to him. Sitting on my knees, I ran my palm through his soft locks, same as mine. His red rimmed eyes and bruised lip rendered me agonizingly helpless.
"Let's go home, bacche. We'll talk there."
I coaxed my broken child. His helpless and defeated persona, is hard for me to take in. For a moment, I was thankful that his mother didn't intervened. Wiping his cheeks with my palms, I motioned towards the bag that laid carelessly behind him.
!*!
The moment we entered, I saw my wife engulfing Salim in a motherly hug. Pecking his cheek, she muttered an apology in his ear. Well, this bought a small smile on my lips.
Me and my wife are settled on the sofa, whilst Salim was sitting in front of us on the tea table. Beside him were the empty cigarette packets, that Jodha has taken out after checking his bag thoroughly.
"What's all this, Salim?"
For a change, I questioned sternly. However, his condition is stabbing my conscience, I won't let him have these injurious things.
"Dad, I-I... actually..."
"Tell us, Salim."
His mother tried this time, in a soft tone. This time he kept mum, not even trying like the previous time.
"Say something?"
"What's the problem?"
Even after many attempts, when he doesn't open his mouth. I'm on my peak to blast. I've left my half day at office and surely there's going to be deduction in my salary, if this keeps going. Resentment and worry descended on my face and my wife mirrored the same reaction.
I'm done playing all calm and composed. So far, this doesn't have bored any fruits. It is time to push him to edge. I know. I've noticed, when at his peak, he tends to give what's in his head.
"Enough is enough, Salim. Don't test my patience."
The stoic expression on his face turned sorrowful with my sudden outburst. Still, he won't open up. His lips are zipped so tightly.
"How we're going to keep up like this, Salim. If we receive such calls on daily basis, what would you except. Never knew, I would be so disappointed by you, son."
Though, I know his mood has turned sour, after listening me but the guy won't open his mouth. This silence of his is taking a toll on me. What I forgot was my wife's presence, but got reminded when her dam of patience broke.
"Salim, you're destroying your career. If back answering and disrespecting us wasn't enough, now you've found new ways to disappoint us. Smoking! Where did you come up with such ideas? Look Mishaal, your cousin. Have you seen his grades? What do you think, you want to do in your future? Make us shame to give birth to such a worthless son?"
She busted out in vexation. The whole thing has affected her more badly than me. Whilst the second thing I noticed, that what my words can't do, hers did wonders. The anger and agony that has subsided, is back with double force. Her each word has attacked his fragile heart like a sharp needle.
"Stop it. Stop the drama, mother."
Salim toppled the tea table on which he was seated. His fists clenching and unclenching in a hard effort, to extinguish his rage. His brows furrowed and flaring nose with clenched jaw, indicated the level of petulance he was drowned into.
"What the hell do you both think I'm."
He shouted his guts off, picking up the vase from nearby side table and smashed it hard against the wall.
"Am I some machine who could work his heads off just to get some goddamned good grades for you to show off your friends and relatives..."
"Language, son."
I reminded him sternly which seemed to have no effect on him, whatsoever. His mother looked scared with his animalistic behaviour.
"I don't care dad! I bloody don't care! What does you think I'm? Pushing me pursue things that I don't want to. When I'd clearly told you, I want to take Arts but no, the great parents don't want a son who would want to become an artist rather than a damned engineer."
He huffed out like a mad bull unleashed his wrath on his parents. Whilst we stood there frozen with the sudden outburst. And I thought, he had taken maths with his own will. Yes, he had told us about his plans but we brushed off. Arts is not something acceptable to me and his mother. What would society say?
"Arts doesn't have scope son. It won't fetch you fortune."
I tried to reason out my point of view. Reaching out for him to hold him, before he could do more damage.
"Yes, right! Maths could fetch me fortune and Arts will be my doom."
He shrugged my hand stumbling on the glass pieces scattered over the floor, of the vase. His sarcastic reply was doing nothing than flaring my rage, more.
"Salim!"
I warned him before I could lose my control.
"I don't want to study maths, Dad. I can't cope up with it. I don't understand a thing. I try dad, I try my best. Still those, theorems and formulas are alien to me. I'll fail in my boards, I won't pass."
His tone mellowed down, as anger replaced with utter agony and pain accumulated in his chocolate orbs. He slouched back in a submissive position.
"Salim..."
Jodha tried to come forward to console her crumpled son. Whilst I never knew, my son was suppressing so much inside. There was so much fear inside his brain that was depressing him to this extent. The fear of being failed has made his roots, so deep that is sucking the life out of him. This was the reason of so much distress and gloominess.
"I tried smoking... because my friend said that... that it'll help in suppressing the suicidal tendencies."
This confession of his pulled the earth beneath our feet. I heard his mother gasp in horror whilst I'm totally numb to give any reaction. Without a word, Jodha crouched at where Salim sat, all relived after letting everything out. Engulfing him in her affectionate embrace, she cried silently. Her glossy eyes questioned mine blanked ones.
Did we failed as his parents?
I don't know the answer or I don't want to accept my failure, between these choosing one seems the most difficult task. Sitting beside my family on floor, I first kissed my son's forehead, who's snuggled into his mother's chest.
"I'll make everything right, son. That's a daddy's promise."
!!*!!
Here we go with another one. Well, few days ago my mother and aunt were conversing about some children they've seen smoking in neighbourhood. And I kind of defended them. Well, my point is, not everyone smokes because it's cool or something. Most of us are aware about the hazard that smoking is to human health. But still people do it cause of the stress and depression they're into, especially children.
I think talking and sorting the problems whilst discussing with parents or teachers or even friends can help.
Ah, so how's the One shot?
Sorry, if it's not worth reading.😊
***
Itti Si Khushi Sab TV
Anupamaa
Love Friendship Dating and Relationships
79