Marvelous Life Of A Self-Made Man!

The entire world was at the cusp of celebrating a new millennium; it was December 1999.

But no one knew that pure mayhem was about to strike my nuclear, close-knit family in New Delhi. It was another joyful evening for us, my father had just returned from work. He gave in to my kid sister’s demand for a chocolate bar as her evening snack. They both went on a stroll to the neighborhood market.

They had barely approached the cross-roads when a drunk, speeding auto-rickshaw driver dashed into them. My father was an excellent driver, all my relatives used to boast about that fact. But I guess his luck, as a pedestrian, ran out that evening. His tall silhouette lost balance; and he dropped dead on the charcoal black road.

At his funeral, I developed an intense hatred, deep within my heart, for two things; alcohol & auto-rickshaws. Maybe because they both made a vicious concoction that burned away, half my childhood. However, twenty years fast-forward, I hire an auto every morning and devour a miniature scotch bottle every weekend. I was barely 10 when I lost my father. All the males in the cluster of relatives that we had, were filthy old hags filled with greed.

Soon the memories of my late father also turned hazy in the mind. My family shifted cities which made me make new friends. But I yearned for a father-figure in my life. Thus, I looked up to every elder man that life introduced me with, in my years of adolescence. I really cherished the bond or relationship that I built with each one of them. But unfortunately none of them were similar to my late father. But I never stopped searching; and that led me to choose my own extended family. A list of remarkable people, that I would genuinely like to invite to my wedding.

My search took me across the lengths and breadth of the country. I met an admirable army man in Pune, a spectacular Sikh gentleman in Chandigarh, and a street-smart entrepreneur in Mumbai. I imbibed all the positivity that they all showcased, in my own persona. And then one fine day, I saw my reflection in a mirror. I was half-bald and had a bushy, brownish yet well-groomed beard. 

That hazy image of my late father, in my mind, became crystal clear that very moment. I am a self-made man; and my life had finally carved me into a remarkable reflection of the man I loved the most; my late father.

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