Early Teaser

Dad would often reiterate a point to me while I was growing up. Something he had hoped I would learn. How did he use to put it? The proverbial "rise and shine" applies here. However, I've realized that this adage doesn't hold true in my case. I'm not someone who enjoys getting up early. I've never been a morning person. I don't want to wake up with the sun, as many people advise, especially on Sundays.

              Who wants to wake up early on a Sunday?

              My dad, without a question. And perhaps people like him.

              People like me love to spend as much time as possible cuddling in our beds. The only price I pay for this is I have to listen to my parents' long-winded lectures.

              Like every other Sunday, I am greeted by the sound of my mother's voice inviting me to the breakfast table. After hurriedly cleaning my teeth, I go into the living room and sit down across from my dad. Even when he reads the headlines in the newspaper, I can feel his attention on me.

              He glares at me. That's all he does these days, as far as I'm concerned. We haven't had much of a conversation in over three months. I doubt I've ever heard him say anything other than 'hmmm' and 'aha'.

              The fury in his eyes is palpable. If the flames got to me, I'd be dead.

              "What happened, Dad?" I poke an angry bear in the ribs and ask him a question.

              "Nothing," he continues, "nothing's happening, and that's what I am worried about."

              I know he's not discussing current events. It's undoubtedly a nasty allusion to my boring life.

              A speech follows soon after, as expected. Every night, the same old recital of the song that makes my mother cry. The same old lullaby that makes me feel guilty for being alive.

              His remarks are wise, yet I always struggle to understand them. They are so heavy that I become tired of hearing him speak. Now, for instance. Is it necessary for him to chastise me so early in the morning? What is my fault if employers reject me as a fresher? I'm doing everything I can... but my folks... they never understand.

              "Enough, Dad!" Tossing the bread onto his plate, I shout at him.

              Infuriated, I stomp into my room. I go get my jeans and come back here hoping to just walk out the door. Adding to the tense situation, I pass by the living room and see Mom come out of the kitchen with a spoon in her hand. I just go out the door and out of the house as quickly as I can.

              As I rush by, our neighbor, Lele Kaka, stands outside his door. With his two-battery glass, he stares directly into my eyes. He wears a dhoti, and his Janeu wraps around his middle and winds its way through his thick mane of hair. He is aware of the familial turmoil that exists within my home... or any home for that matter. He mocks me with a common Marathi expression, "Kay hero... kuthe challat?" (Hero, where are you going?)

              ‘Why are these middle-aged men being so intrusive?’

              I want to tell him what's on my mind. I'm almost about to when Shrutkriti, Lele Kaka's daughter, walks in. I let out a sigh of relief.

              I've pondered if Shrutkriti is really Lele Kaka's daughter at times. 'One cannot recognize a product just by knowing who makes it,' I suppose.

              'All beautiful girls might have a father like Lele Kaka,' I muse, quietly smiling. My dad and Lele Kaka have been at one other's throats for a while. Therefore, they would be adamantly opposed to their children talking to one another. Neither....                 Curious to explore more? Dive into the full chapter and immerse yourself in the captivating narrative. https://www.amazon.in/dp/B0CRRN7543/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3ON9QG8HHJOCO&keywords=whispers+of+the+workplace&qid=1704813349&sprefix=%2Caps%2C161&sr=8-1 

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