My Father

One day, when my in-laws distributed their property and talent among their children. I wonder what shall will I distribute between my children (a boy and a girl), after fifteen years. I and my husband had nothing, even our family was running with the support of my in-laws.

My husband inherited what the family had on which he could feel proud and sooner my children but what about me. I was also taken care of in a rich family. Please note, here I mean the love. Always, we could not be happy with just a few notes. I was a beloved daughter, sister of my family. But my father gave all his things to my brother, excluding me. I didn’t interfere as he did not have much to distribute. So, it is better to have one person happy with the stuff. Although, I loved his typewriter machine a lot on which his loving fingers move swiftly.

I still remember the day when he used to teach me to type faster, a little bit when he returned back in the evening. I could not deny the fact that when he handed his machine to an illiterate person—my brother— he never liked the old-fashioned things.

“Mumma, please feed me”, my daughter brought me back from my memories. I wanted to see it for once. I feed the food, left last night. I took some money which I was saving for last few months and put it in my purse.

I took a rickshaw and reached my childhood house. How beautiful the flickered walls were! How sweet it smelt, bringing all my memories alive!

I…I… saw which I never imagined. My brother was selling father’s typewriter machine to get some money. He didn’t use it in his whole life but this was last sign of our father. He must think twice. Fool. Bucolic boy. He never listened to me but the keys of the machine chattering to each other denying to get sold. I snatched the machine from the greedy hands of the buyer.

I declared that I would carry it. My brother appreciated my effort but in exchange demanded for the money. He was asking as if he was the only owner. Well, somehow my father gave this tittle to him. I paid him all my last savings and went home with empty purse but the love of my father. His typewriter has the smell of him.

I carried it in my hands and walked to the home as I had no money.

As I reached the home and narrated my story to the family, my children unknown from our real conditions loved their grandpa but I saw disgust fall on my husband’s face.

Some of his business partners came as he had invited them to convince them for investing in his business. I left my typewriter on the table where every one of them sat. I ran to the neighbor’s house to get either some money or food. Because, these guests were very important for our future.

As I returned, I saw the audience in the businessmen. They were admiring my typewriter. I could not see it. The eye of businessmen could make a profit of abstract things and here was my father. I lifted it, disturbing their view.

But one of the businessmen stopped me and asked if I knew to typewrite. I replied in positive as my father taught me.

He stood on his position and hired me as a typewriter. He could hire more talented ones, experienced in typing, but I had the antic typewriter extinct from the minds of the people. The businessman was fond of such things.

Father’s grace showered my house. Sooner, my husband too got his job and our family blessed with the money.

Thank you, father!