And so the mirror cracked....

That’s the one. That slimy, icky feeling. He got it every time he had to pick up a razor to shave. It’s sad, actually. When a man is 14, he can’t wait for a wee bit of facial hair to start popping their heads out. He can’t wait to lather the cream around the lower part of his face and use the razor like his father does. He can’t wait to be a man. At least feel like one as he tries to look majestic in front of the mirror. The majestic look of course, consists of merely a silly grin. He fails to see that a 14 year old boy who just shaved looks less like a man and more like a 14 year old girl. As the years go by, he begins to realize that shaving might just be a pain in the backside. His skin is rough and itchy. Worse, the stubble hurts his girlfriend and he soon finds out that a close shave and sex go hand in hand. If you don’t get one, you can’t get the other.

The man was in a fix. When a man has a hangover, he wakes up late. When he wakes up late, he just wants to get into a pair of trousers, run out of the damned house and reach office on time. The last thing he wants to do is pick up that razor and rip the bejesus off his face. Not a fix really, because he had already decided what he’s going to do. But, he was still in the process of deciding if he’s….decided.

So the man, in a moment of ingenuity, decided that it was time he became a little more assertive and a lot more decisive. He took out a coin and flipped it saying, HEADS!!. And tails it was. He looked around for a moment to make sure no one’s looking, and made up his mind, Best out of three. This was one of those rare times he wished he was married. These decision-making-thingies are just so much easier. Every question has a simple answer. And the answer always begins with a “Honey,…….?” For example, Which shirt should he wear? “Honey.........” Or for that matter, does he like tomato sauce? “Honey.........” Simple, very simple.

Outcome of the toss notwithstanding, the man thinks he shouldn’t weigh his decisions over a dumb coin and so he listens to his ‘wise inner self’, erases all thoughts of shaving and office and goes right back to sleep.

He woke up at six in the evening to that annoying ring tone on his mobile which meant he had kept a reminder. A little confused and surprised, he read the message. It said, “8.00pm: Dad leaves”. Cursing himself he sprang out of bed and started to get ready. He couldn’t believe that he had forgotten. His father had come over for the weekend to meet a relative. He didn’t want to make pointless conversation with his relatives, so he told his dad he’d come to drop him off at the station. Actually, he just wanted to party and make pointless conversation with strangers. A pang stung his heart when he thought about it but; Never mind, he thought, It’s only dad.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Suave, clean shaven, hair neatly combed and wearing his best suit. He wondered why there was this pressure to impress his own parents. Shouldn’t he? After all, he was an extremely successful investment banker. He should ‘look’ the part. But he hasn’t worn the suit to office and being an investment banker doesn’t impress anyone in office. Every one there is an extremely successful investment banker. It’s a hard job, he thought, I deserve to show off once in a while. But he realizes that he could have easily been happier in a ‘lesser’ job, there’s no way he can spend all he earns. But, there is that pressure to impress. To impress not just his parents or his friends. There is that pressure on his parents to impress their friends and relatives as well. Anyway, it feels nice when people look up at you, when they are impressed by you, he reasons. It’s a pity that it comes rarely, simply because every one at office and at those parties, every one inside of your personal and professional circuit is of the same league. And then it hits him. Like a hammer from heaven. He frowned as it dawned upon him that he studied hard in school, slogged his way through graduation in far away places, landed a great job and worked like a dog for sixteen hours a day, every day. In silence and loneliness, with sweat and for gold, he did all this, so that a few times a year, a few people that he might not know or care for, can be impressed.

I have a good life. I am in the upper class of society. Unfortunately, every class of society has a higher class of society, doesn’t it? Aarrgghh! The conscience is a prick. Oh yes, I most definitely am.

So, he got into the car and started driving down to the station.

The man didn’t like too many people and probably looked up to none. In the very convenient haze that a super-ego provides, he could see none superior, none greater, no flaw in himself and nothing lacking. In fact, there was very little he could see. He couldn’t see anyone above, below or around. All he saw was himself. In spite of being supremely self-centered, the one person he would have died for was his father.

You know, it’s weird really. Some of the people you love the most are the people that you hardly ever talk to, that you barely ever get to spend time with. Sometimes, that’s why you probably love them. Anyway, that is not the case here. He truly loved his dad. He never understood the concept of sacrifice and therefore, he doesn’t remember when he last helped anyone out and therefore, he doesn’t remember any of his friends ever helping him out. But, he remembers his dad. He remembers a father who in spite of a mediocre job, managed to give his son more than just the bare necessities, strived to give him luxuries. A father who never let him feel that sting. The one that the lack of green fabric in your wallet can give. A father who never frowned. For the one man who ever did anything for him without regret or worry and without receiving or expecting anything in return, he was ready to give his life.

Touchy, aren’t they? Humans that is. Sentimental fools, I think at times. Here is this guy who wouldn’t bother to look twice if he saw a man strapped onto the railway track or bother to wrinkle his trousers doing something about it. Unless of course, it was his father. Not any father who has sacrificed or any one else’s father who also has sacrificed, but only his father. The problem with them, I thought, was never sentiment or attachment. It was the callousness to someone else’s attachments or sentiments.

And this was the person he has spent the least time with in the last six years. He almost always avoided thinking about it. It hurt him, but he didn’t do anything about it. Strange again, you see. The man would die for his dad, but he will not pick up the phone and speak to him. God, he’s a walking, talking contradiction. The idiot does not realize that a phone call will probably make his dad happier than if he really died for him. Anyway, he did feel bad. He really did feel bad for his dad.

He parked his car and went to the platform. He looked up to see a big clock that read: 1930 hours. Half an hour of quality time, he thought. Through the swarm of people, he saw his old man on a bench, reading a newspaper, patient as ever. As he got closer, a strange calm filled him. With each step he took, a primitive peace rose within. He could not say if he was happy or if he was sad. He was not numb, but he could not say what he felt. At least this time, he would tell him. He would tell his dad how much he means to him. How bad he felt for him. Walking up to his father, he gave him a hug and sat down.

"How've you been, Dad?"
"Retired, but not yet tired.", he said, smiling as he realised it was a poor joke. "Seriously, I'm fine. My life hasn't changed much. This train keeps the same pace, stops only at the same old stations."
He shrugged as he felt even worse."But, how can you live like that Dad, doesn't it get monotonous?", he asked.
"Do you have an interesting life son? Do you keep doing new things everyday to keep you from getting bored?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, I know. I did that for sometime. Then I got bored of doing interesting things. Some ass said that change is the only constant. It's not only constant, it's bloody monotonous. You'll find out, don't worry.", his father said and ruffled his hair like he was a three year old. "Anyway, how's work at office?"
"It's getting hectic, but it's ok. They're paying me more as well.", he wasn't sure if he was informing or justifying. As he said this, he noticed that the train had begun to move. Realising there wasn't much time left he said, "Dad, I have to tell you something."
His father looked at his watch and turned to him, "No, I have to leave now. Listen to me. You don't know how bad I feel for you son."
The heavens opened, and hammers fell. I'm laughing but the man is being hit all over.

"You work night and day without direction or purpose.", he continued. "You earn, but you don't have anyone to spend it with. You aren't getting any younger, you know. You can't sleep around with strange women forever. Tell me, where do you think you're going with life? Look at me, son. I had a lovely wife and a beautiful child. I earned enough to keep them happy. I spent enough time at work and even more at home. I was never troubled, worried or harassed. I'm hitting seventy, looking forty and feeling twenty. Peace is all my life has been about." He got on to the train, stood at the door and said, "Do something about your life, darling. I feel really sad for you."

I'm rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off. The man didn't know what to say, he just stood there and watched as the train went past. Now, he felt numb. I don't know why he bothered to think like he did. It's weird, really. Man will only look from an angle from where he looks best. Perspective doesn't really mean you look at things in one way. It means you can't or you don't want to look at it in any other way. I don't know why he bothered to think at all. Men think. Hmmm...... I think that's where the problem lies.