Father and his Reading Glasses
Father, like
almost every other fifty plus-something government employee, had two pairs of
glasses – one for reading and another for distance vision. That was the trend
back then, when people didn’t really have any other choice.
Hii I am Diva and
this is the story of me and my father. My family considered my teen rebellious
phase to be a problem, but Father’s glasses were an even bigger problem, because
he kept losing them more often than I lost my temper. And guess whose job it
was to look for them-mine, of course! I was the youngest in our family but
everybody seemed to have something against me. Grandmother thought I was too
wild for a girl; Mother thought I was too argumentative and adamant; and as for
my sister, that I was her sibling was problem enough. I, on the other hand,
thought that I was simply unlucky enough to be stuck with the wrong family. The
only person in our family who did not seem to have a problem with me was
Father. So I really had no reason for not doing whatever he asked of me, even
if it was repeatedly looking for his reading glasses. Father claimed that I was
the only expert who could find his glasses, and I was secretly proud of my
skill.
One morning
during the summer vacations, my sister and I had a big fight over whose bed
should be near the window. We often rearranged our rooms and it was filled with
posters and quotes on walls. On hearing our shouts, my mother came into our
room and started scolding us. Just when I was about to infuriate, suddenly
father called, ‘Diva, I can’t find my reading glasses. Come here and help me
find them.’
Mother paused for
a moment and said, ‘Go look for Father’s glasses first or else he will be late
for office.’ I exited the room and ran down the staircase muttering to no one
in particular, ‘When anyone has work, I have to do it- but when I want
something, I am always asked to compromise. Just because Sister has her board
exams, am I supposed to adjust with her on everything? What has sleeping by the
window got to do with exams?’ By the time I had finished grumbling, I was
already standing before Father. He looked up from the newspaper and said, ‘I
can’t find my glasses Diva.’ Being proud of in mind and considering me like
Agatha Christie, I enquired, ‘where did you last see the glasses and what were
you doing at the time?’ Father thought for a while and replied, ‘I was cleaning
car when glasses were with me.’
I made a wry expression with narrowed eyes and
a twisted mouth (it was my assumption of expressions of Agatha Christie detectives
solving crimes) and then announced, ‘You must have kept the reading glasses on
the dashboard of the car instead of the long –distance ones! Father obediently
handed me the keys and I procured the glasses from the very place I had said
they would be in. Bingo ! Father patted my back and said, ‘I don’t know who
will find my glasses when you would not be there one day. I smiled with pride.
By the time the two beds were by the wall and the study table was by the window
with no one winning the obstinacy.
Days went by and
each and every mission to look for Father’s glasses became more and more
extensive. Sometimes I found them in Grandmother’s medicine drawer; sometimes
they were in the newspaper rack, sometimes near the washbasin, sometimes on top
of refrigerator and sometimes even inside it. Uff! Now, my father was generally
organized man but reading glasses seemed to be the exception. Sometimes, I
wondered if the glasses had magical feet to walk away at all these strange
places. But I was sure of one thing- I was the only one who could find them.
Some years whizzed past and after my sister it was my turn to go to a college
hostel in another city. I was very excited and looked forward to the days
ahead. My only worry was how Father would find his reading glasses now without
my help.
By the time I
completed my graduation, Father too was retired. Grandmother had passed away by
then and my sister was too married in different city, so Mother and Father decided
to relocate. They were happy to have at least one child living with then and I
was happy to have the comforts of home again. It was enjoyable in the beginning
and then it became a way of life. I had grown up from being a rebellious
teenager to a working adult- I actually had a job post my MBA. Life had become
so busy that sometimes I came home just to eat dinner and sleep. Slowly the
stress of work and competition to survive made me grumpy and irritable. My
temper flared up at the slightest provocation and sometimes, without any at
all. My mother constantly complained about me being a fussy eater. I was again behaving
sometimes being like teenager. One day, I was unnecessarily arguing with Mother
over about hyped topic of my age and marriage when I heard Father call out the
same words after a long time, ‘Diva, I
can’t find my reading glasses, come here and help me find them.’
I smiled. I had
understood the meaning of that call by now. It was not only I who could find glasses.
I realized by now that I was the only one who was asked to find them! Anger and
stress management may sound like a big corporate phrase, but Father had healed
me with a simple therapy – when my fuse threatened to blow, I just had to
search for his reading glasses.
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