Sanjeev was a top student in class two. He topped every class except English. English was Sanjeev’s weak subject. But other than that, he had the highest numbers in every test in class two. His parents were really proud of their son’s accomplishment. They paraded him around in family gatherings, beaming with joy, telling their relatives about Sanjeev’s educational accomplishments.
But as Sanjeev grew up, his father noticed that his son kept blinking his eyes over and over. He was 10 years old and everytime he started to watch TV or to do his homework, he would start squinting and blinking. Sanjeev’s father, Roshan, had the latest style of leather jacket. He was very conscientious of how he looked while on his raised Honda motorbike. Looks and fashion were very important for Roshan.
"What a bad habit you have Sanjeev," his father, Roshan said, whacking the son on the back of his head. "Stop blinking your eyes like that."
Year after year, Sanjeev's eyes kept blinking more and more. He kept squinting and blinking. His parents found his squinting and blinking very unattractive. They really wished their child would stop doing it. It made the kid look a little bit crazy. In their desperation to make the child stop, they hit him every time they caught him doing it. It was their way of discouraging the child from doing it.
Finally, when he is about 15 years old, his parents took him to a doctor. The doctor did a thorough checkup and said, "Oh my goodness, this boy’s eyes have been getting successively worse year after year. That is why he has been blinking so much. Why didn't you bring him to me much sooner? He should have been wearing thick glasses years ago. Now this issue has caused permanent damage to your son."
When they took Sanjeev back home, Roshan profusely apologized to Sanjeev that they had missed all the cues. Sanjeev said, "But what about all the hittings I got for all those years? What about all my pain that I went through all those years when you didn't understand what I was going through? How is your sorry going to make up for the permanent damage I am going to suffer from for the rest of my life?"
Sanjeev’s father, Roshan, glared at his son. Here he was, the father, apologizing to his son, but Sanjeev seemed rude and rebellious to his apologies. Who did Sanjeev think he was? Roshan didn’t have to apologize to anyone. He was the father in this house dammit. Roshan did not owe Sanjeev anything. Sanjeev had not brought any income to this house or contributed here in anyway. Why did Roshan need to feel guilty towards Sanjeev?
After this incident, Roshan was very hesitant to put himself in a vulnerable position of apologizing to his son. He was afraid that Sanjeev might use the situation to lash back at Roshan. Roshan became very cautious in how he interacted with Sanjeev. He almost seemed to fear his son in some ways. It was almost like interacting with his son had the power to open up deeply held childhood wounds within Roshan. Wounds that he had locked away in a deep safe when he was a young child in his father's house.
Roshan became very cautious in looking at any signs of hostility from his son and did whatever he needed to quell Sanjeev’s indignancy and rebellion. Roshan was going to crush it in Sanjeev with whatever it took. He was the father and would be damned if he was going to sit quietly in his own house with Sanjeev becoming more arrogant and feeling more entitled and angry. Roshan was not going to be a sitting duck in his own house. He was going to nip Sanjeev's attitude in the bud.
Any small deviation did not go unnoticed. And the hittings and kicks came swiftly and strong. Sanjeev bore it all, gritting his teeth.
Sanjeev’s marks in school was dropping each year. Each successive year he seemed to be doing worse in school then the last. He seemed to lose interest in school. Sanjeev got in more fights in school with the other boys. He seemed drawn to the rougher kids.
Roshan saw this and winced. Sanjeev overheard his father talking to the neighbors explaining how Sanjeev had become a problem child.
So Sanjeev was not surprized that father's getting physical only increased.
But all the hitting did not quell the fire burning within Sanjeev. The more Roshan beat his son, the more wild, bitter and determined Sanjeev seemed to get. His mother worried what was happening between father and son. This going back and forth seemed to be ripping the peace in the family apart.
Sanjeev wasn't listening to her anymore. He seemed more callous, more hardened. He had a feral look in his dark eyes. It was almost like he enjoyed fighting, hitting others and getting beaten by his father. She could see the look of satisfaction in his eyes, like a bear that emerged from a bloody tussle. It was like he was communicating to his father that his father was weak and he, Sanjeev was strong. Sanjeev, through his steady stares at his father, despite how much his father beat him, seemed to say, "You don't have the power to change me." It was almost like Sanjeev was controlling his father through his bad behavior.
So Sanjeev was not surprized that father's getting physical only increased.
But all the hitting did not quell the fire burning within Sanjeev. The more Roshan beat his son, the more wild, bitter and determined Sanjeev seemed to get. His mother worried what was happening between father and son. This going back and forth seemed to be ripping the peace in the family apart.
Sanjeev wasn't listening to her anymore. He seemed more callous, more hardened. He had a feral look in his dark eyes. It was almost like he enjoyed fighting, hitting others and getting beaten by his father. She could see the look of satisfaction in his eyes, like a bear that emerged from a bloody tussle. It was like he was communicating to his father that his father was weak and he, Sanjeev was strong. Sanjeev, through his steady stares at his father, despite how much his father beat him, seemed to say, "You don't have the power to change me." It was almost like Sanjeev was controlling his father through his bad behavior.
The worse Sanjeev acted, Roshan had no other choice but to beat and kick Sanjeev. And though dressed in bruises, Sanjeev smiled bitterly and defiantly back at his father. He, Sanjeev, had caused his father to raise his hand on him. His father was a weak weak man who had no other choice but to do so.
Roshan would hit Sanjeev and curse at him, but he would avoid looking directly into Sanjeev's eyes. He just couldn't. Sanjeev, meanwhile, would look penetratingly and deeply into Roshan's eyes with a wicked smile on his face and then raise his eyebrows at his mother.
And as much as Sanjeev was winning the battle at home, he was losing the war in other places. Over time, Sanjeev started to lose his memory. He would feel lost and not know where he was. He would sit queitly for long hours on the benches in Ratna park or under the Peepal tree in New Road, just gazing at the random vendors passing by. Tempos, minibuses and taxis would roll by caressed by Sanjeev's uncaring glance.
It wasn't any better in school. It was very hard for Sanjeev to focus on school. He didn't seem to enjoy socializing and having fun. The other kids in school his age would make fun of him behind his back, but they were afraid to say anything directly in front of him. Sanjeev's gritted jaws and his piercing eyes held them back. It didn't take a lot to set his fiery fists pummelling.
In private, these kids would gossip about Sanjeev. They made up all kinds of stories saying he was crazy and had mental problems. Few of them understood what Sanjeev was going through with his dad at home. Few cared. Sanjeev was just a source of entertainment for them. So they embellished the stories they told about him. Each would tell about some interaction that they had with Sanjeev in bigger more colorful words than the other. They competed in ridiculing Sanjeev. Their vicious words tried to eradicate the fear that Sanjeev had instilled deeply in them. And strangely, they walked away from tiffin time, feeling good painting him as a useless clout.
Roshan would hit Sanjeev and curse at him, but he would avoid looking directly into Sanjeev's eyes. He just couldn't. Sanjeev, meanwhile, would look penetratingly and deeply into Roshan's eyes with a wicked smile on his face and then raise his eyebrows at his mother.
And as much as Sanjeev was winning the battle at home, he was losing the war in other places. Over time, Sanjeev started to lose his memory. He would feel lost and not know where he was. He would sit queitly for long hours on the benches in Ratna park or under the Peepal tree in New Road, just gazing at the random vendors passing by. Tempos, minibuses and taxis would roll by caressed by Sanjeev's uncaring glance.
It wasn't any better in school. It was very hard for Sanjeev to focus on school. He didn't seem to enjoy socializing and having fun. The other kids in school his age would make fun of him behind his back, but they were afraid to say anything directly in front of him. Sanjeev's gritted jaws and his piercing eyes held them back. It didn't take a lot to set his fiery fists pummelling.
In private, these kids would gossip about Sanjeev. They made up all kinds of stories saying he was crazy and had mental problems. Few of them understood what Sanjeev was going through with his dad at home. Few cared. Sanjeev was just a source of entertainment for them. So they embellished the stories they told about him. Each would tell about some interaction that they had with Sanjeev in bigger more colorful words than the other. They competed in ridiculing Sanjeev. Their vicious words tried to eradicate the fear that Sanjeev had instilled deeply in them. And strangely, they walked away from tiffin time, feeling good painting him as a useless clout.
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