It
just wouldn’t happen. Father tried everything possible to lure me out of my
hiding place, from under the bed. It was becoming a daily affair and I would
cry and throw tantrums to stop them from sending me to school. It worked for
me! Father would some days just let me be and take my elder brother to school
on his old Bajaj Chetak.
Mother
would carry me out of the bed and hold me up and brush my teeth. Then she would
get me all dressed up while I stood in half stupor. The uniform was a red and
white check shirt, bright red shorts and a little red tie. She would comb my
hair and drag me to the breakfast table and help me with some cereal, milk and
bread. And then when it would be time to leave for school, I would run and
hide.
I
had learnt the art of blackmailing form that time onwards when I would make my
mother take me to school and wait for me the entire time. And she would sit
outside the school building and wait. And then when school would get over and I
would come out of the huge wooden gates, my eyes would search for the glimpse
of my mother. For me that would be both a prize and a sigh of relief.
Now
when I reflect on those days I feel how stupid, insensitive and insecure I was.
