Third Father

The gale had started blowing last night, shaking the tree trunks, breaking branches, taking almost all the leaves away. Trees turned naked. It was hard to find anyone on the messed up streets but the miserable stray dogs…and their little pups. They were finding shelter before it got too dark and cold. I never liked dogs too much, yet I opened the backyard for them and spread the remaining grains of cooked rice down there. 

Then, came back to the bedroom, had a cup of hot tea and covered my cold bones and old flesh under a warm blanket in an attempt to sleep. For me, It's always been hard to sleep. So I lied down, hearing raindrops knocking against the window glasses and curtains were flapping loud. The sky was trumpeting as if there were thousands of war elephants taking charge against the city. It sounded like the rain had ravaged the whole city, Perhaps had destroyed all the slums another side of the railway line. Poor people. I began to worry about the dogs and their pups now, though I couldn't dare to go outside and see them. So, I looked up, various dancing shapes of curtains on the roof. It felt like walls were moving too.

I didn't realise when I fell asleep, somehow, the cruel night passed. When I woke up, I looked around and found everything soaked. Before I could figure out how the water came inside and from were, I wanted to see the dogs and their pups.

So, I put on the black raincoat, put up the blue umbrella, came outside. The yard was almost damaged but I found dogs safe, sleeping in curled up position. Though they were wet, they were still breathing. I smiled. Then, I peeped ahead. I got shocked as I spotted a Boy sleeping in the corner. 

Who the hell is he? 

I went straight to him and shook him hard, woke him up and threw many questions on him one by one. His straight-forward short answers made me sure that he wasn't a thief. Maybe, he came for the shelter too. But when I asked about his father. He stammered and lowered the eyes. The instant shame in his eyes made me gulp. The water was dripping down from his ragged clothes and was making him blink repeatedly. I squeezed his shoulder and smiled.

More than the boy, I was worried about my flapping umbrella. The wind was whooshing and raindrops hitting onto my coat. Slippers were loaded with water and turned spongy. I've never been a kind person. My heart had been frozen long ago. But leaving the boy there in the cruel rain would have made me more than an unkind person, demon perhaps.

"Come over here." I closed the umbrella and pulled the boy inside the doorway and shut the door up. He walked as though it ached to move. He looked ill and his face became pale. I made him sit on the chair by the fire and wrapped him up in a blanket. Yet, he was shivering there too. "Ohh .. tea …" I said to myself. 

"Wait! I am coming, boy." 

Then, I went to the kitchen, talking to myself, "yes ..yes a hot. cup of tea..".. the habit I developed in the last five years, I spent alone. "Can't I share a cup of tea with him? He is a boy, a boy of twelve or thirteen, he is not a dog. A cup of tea with him, Why not?" 

I never shared a cup of tea with anyone in the last few months … not even shared a single smile. I wanted to live alone, no matter I was a boring company for myself.  

When I returned with teacups on the tray, found him staring at the pictures hanging on the wall. One was of my dead wife and another one was of my dead parents and at the last, the tall one was of my Father. 

"He's my father, look how strong he was in his old age." l gave a jealous smile and handed him the hot cup and sat beside him. The boy said nothing, So I continued. "Now, tell me about your father, boy, You live with him ?"

"No, both of them left me long ago."

"Both of them?"

"Yes, both of them."

"What do you mean both of them?"

"I…I .. had two fathers." The boy answered. 

"What are you saying boy?" I sipped the tea. 

"I had two fathers. The one gave birth to me and later…the other man married my mother." 

While sipping the tea, he was still measuring the corners. I glared at his bony shoulders and duck-like neck. Such an unhealthy child he was, Though confident. 

"Your real father never married to your mother?" 

"No .. I heard them, people around us. They say … he raped my mother when she was just 15."

His words left me speechless for a moment. 

"Then who was this …The other guy? When did he marry your mother?" I asked him as he exhaled the heavy breath. 

"When I was four." The boy answered. "He was a thief. He used to love my mother .. we were moving to the city and he came along, We used to beg outside the temple, First, he begged with us, and then he begged for us too." Boy explained.

"How come a thief turned into a beggar?"

"My mother asked him so, he truly loved her.. but" Boy shifted his eyes from roof to the wet carpet and then to the windows. The rain had just stopped. I put the cup on the table and looked into his eyes. "But?" 

He continued. "He got sick .. very very sick, I remember, his forehead was burning that night, yes I remember the day, and he died, We didn't have enough money to take him to any hospital and neither time." The boy sighed, and now, he was looking at his muddy shoes he left at the doorway, shoes of some bigger man, perhaps. "He was very kind to me."

"Are these his shoes? your father's?"

"No! I stole them yesterday…" The boy said frankly.

"From the temple ?"

"Nope! From your neighbourhood."

"You? from here?" I frowned.

"Yes I, I had to." He said "I am tired of begging now. No one gives us anything more than coins, they all abuse and wave us away,"

"Cruel people, yes they are everywhere." I agreed.

"No they were so kind, cruel people kick us out and behave like we are some kind of mosquitoes droning in their ears and they could smash us down with their bare hands." He spat the bitter truth.

"So, tell me, boy, Last night, you came here for shelter or stealing ?" I leaned forward. "Be honest."

The boy made strong eye contact and dropped the jaw. "Stealing !" He declared.

I gave a moment to thought.

"So your second father turned into a beggar for the sake of love and you want his abandoned profession for yourself?"

"No, we both beg at the daytime and I steal in the nights."

"Where do you and your mother beg now ..at the same temple?"

The boy looked at me and shifted the eyes to his toes. "I don't beg with my mother .. she .. she's gone."

"Dead ?" My eyes widened.

"No! She left me, she said, I've always been an unwanted son and an unbearable burden on her shoulder… she always wanted to get rid of me." 

"And where did she go?"

"With another man to another place .. she said, I love him."

"But you said 'WE', then who? your friends?"

"No! My little sister, she begs with me too. I realised now, people give her more coins than they give it to me. Maybe because she is younger or she begs with a cute smile."

"Where is she now?"

"In the shelter, Another side of the railway line .. I left her there yesterday, I don't think she'd be any safe there. I think, I must go now."  The boy stood up. 

 "I am so sorry. I'll never come here…. and in your neighbourhood .. neither for stealing nor for the shelter, I promise." 

He went to the door. The boy with two father. I had never seen such an honest boy. When I was a child I used to steal too, the coins .. from my mamma's purse. I don't think stealing coins or shoes was so bad at all If you really need them. The boy needed something more than the coins and shoes, I guessed. "Listen up, Son!" I shouted. He turned back and glared at my old face, I felt like something frozen in my chest was, now, melting down. I was tired of living alone in this big house. I was bored of talking to myself all the time. I've always been such a bad company for myself and he was a good one. But, I was wondering, what would he think if I offer him myself as his THIRD FATHER.